We slept tangled together. Bonded. Claimed. Complete.
Outside, the cliff pulsed brighter than it had in decades. The obsidian hummed with new life. The vertical world knew: there was a bonded pair nesting here now.
HALLIE
The bonding had changed everything about mornings.
I woke to his mouth between my legs. The bond told me he was there before I was fully conscious—his presence a constant warm pressure at the edge of my awareness, like knowing someone was in the room even with my eyes closed. But the physical sensation made me gasp and arch into him anyway because knowing and feeling were two very different things.
"Good morning," he said against me, not stopping. His forked tongue worked my clit in slow circles while one hand pressed my hip down, keeping me in place for whatever he had planned.
My climax hit instantly, a reflex I couldn't control, which seemed to be his goal.
He didn't stop. Just kept working me through the first orgasm and into a second, the pleasure cock wrapping around my clit from underneath while his tongue explored every fold. His satisfaction amplified everything through the bond—making me come harder, his own arousal building in response to mine in this feedback loop we couldn't escape even if we wanted to.
"Drav—"
"This is how every morning starts now." He withdrew slightly, his breath hot against sensitized flesh. "I wake you. I make you come. Then I breed you. That's the routine."
The possessive certainty in his voice made me clench around nothing. He felt it through the bond and growled—an actual growl that vibrated through his chest and made my toes curl.
The third orgasm hit, and I was shaking. He finally pulled back, moving up my body with that predatory grace he had when he knew he'd already won. His breeding cock was hard, ready, and he pushed inside in one smooth thrust that seated him completely.
We both made sounds.
The bond made it different, more intense than anything before we'd completed the claiming. The feedback loop was instant and overwhelming—I felt his pleasure layered over mine—the tight heat of my body around him, the satisfaction of filling me, the primal need to breed that went deeper than conscious thought. And he felt mine: the stretch, the fullness, the rightness of having him inside me like my body had been designed for exactly this.
"Feel that?" He thrust slowly, deliberately, making sure I experienced every inch. "The bond. You feel what I feel. Every time I'm inside you, you know exactly how good you make me feel."
I did. Through the connection, I felt his pleasure spike with every thrust, felt how much he needed this and needed me and couldn't separate the two anymore.
"I'm going to take you three times a day minimum," he said, his voice rough. "Morning, afternoon, evening. More if you need it. The bond creates dependency—you'll crave this. Crave me. Your physiology will demand constant recalibration. You won't just want me; you'll go into withdrawal without me."
"I already do."
That made him thrust harder, faster, like my admission had broken something loose in him. One hand found my clit, and his second cock flicked against me, working in rhythm with his thrusts in this dual stimulation that was overwhelming and perfect and exactly what my body needed.
I came again, and through the bond, I felt his orgasm trigger in response. Felt his base expand. Felt the first pulse of seed flooding into me while he groaned against my throat.
"Mine," he said, the word barely more than a rumble. "Every morning. Every day. Forever."
We stayed knotted for maybe twenty minutes. When he finally pulled out, I was boneless and satisfied in ways I hadn't known were possible before coming to this vertical world.
"I need to hunt," he said, stroking my back gently. "You should explore. The territory is yours now too. Learn it."
I watched him launch from the cave entrance and disappear into the orange sky, his wings catching the thermals with practiced ease that made it look effortless.
I spent the morning climbing.
The bond stayed active even with distance between us—I could feel him hunting somewhere to the south, could sense his satisfaction when he made a kill. It was strange and comforting at the same time, like I was never truly alone even when he was miles away.
The vertical world was incredible once I actually looked at it instead of just trying to survive it.
I'd been so focused on the hunt and not dying that I hadn't really seen what this place was. But now, moving through the cliff system with purpose instead of panic, I saw the beauty. The copper-green veins that pulsed with electromagnetic energy, creating patterns like circuit boards in the rock. The way obsidian caught light and threw it back in rainbow patterns thatshouldn't exist but did. The thermal vents that created warm updrafts smelling of sulfur and minerals I couldn't name.
I found routes Drav couldn't access without flying. Narrow chimneys that required specific body positioning and flexibility his bulk didn't allow. Traverses across blank faces where the handholds were tiny and precise. Places where my climbing skills gave me advantages his wings didn't, which felt good in ways I couldn't quite articulate.
I was mapping a particularly interesting overhang when I felt it.
