Something breaks in him.
I feel it through the bond—a snap like a chain giving way, the last of his control dissolving. He lifts me like I weigh nothing, three steps to the weapon rack, and pins me against it with his body. Swords and spears rattle behind my back, metal on metal, a dangerous percussion. The wooden frame is hard against my spine, edges digging in. His body is harder against my front, all muscle and heat and barely-restrained violence.
His cock is already free, already hard—when did he unfasten his pants? I don't know, don't care. He's huge, flushed andstraining, the head weeping precum that catches the lamplight. My mouth waters at the sight even as my cunt clenches around nothing, desperate and empty.
The blunt pressure of him against my entrance makes us both groan.
"Now," I demand, and it comes out half growl, half plea. "Rhystan, now?—"
He thrusts into me.
One brutal stroke that splits me open on his cock, buries him so deep I swear I can taste him. The stretch burns—he's too big, I'm not ready, and it's exactly what I need. I scream into his shoulder and he snarls into my hair and we're both so far gone there's no coming back.
"Fuck—" His voice is wrecked, guttural. "You're strangling my cock. So wet and tight I can barely move?—"
But he moves anyway.
The weapon rack shakes with each thrust.
Metal clangs and chimes behind me—swords swinging in their brackets, spear hafts knocking together, the whole structure creaking and groaning under the force of his hips. A blade falls and clatters to the stone floor somewhere to my left. Neither of us cares.
He's fucking me against the weapons we were just fighting with. Surrounded by steel and violence and the tools of war. Each drag of his cock along my inner walls sends sparks up my spine, each thrust punching the breath from my lungs.
This is what we are—combat and claiming tangled together until they're the same thing, until I can't tell if I want to kill him or keep him forever.
I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, lock my ankles in the small of his back, use the leverage to meet him thrust for thrust. The angle changes and he hits something inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyes.
"There," I gasp. "Right there, don't stop?—"
"I know where you need it." He drives into that spot again, again, relentless. "Can feel you fluttering around me every time I hit it. Feel how close you are through the bond?—"
"Harder," I snarl against his throat. "I won't break."
He obliges.
The pace turns punishing—brutal, relentless, each impact driving the air from my lungs. Each withdrawal leaves me empty and aching, clenching around nothing, desperate for him to fill me again. The weapon rack digs into my spine with every thrust and I don't care, can't care, can't think about anything but the pleasure building at the base of my spine like a wave about to crest.
I bite his throat again. The same spot I've bitten before—the claiming mark I gave him on the altar, scarred over now but still sensitive. My teeth find the raised tissue and tear it open fresh, and blood floods my mouth. Hot copper and woodsmoke and something wild underneath, something that has no name in any human language.
I swallow it down.
Feel it burn through my veins like liquid fire. Feel the way my body responds—fever spiking higher, slick gushing around his cock, my inner walls clenching and rippling along his length.
Feel the contamination spreading, his blood mixing with mine, changing me into something new.
The thought surfaces distant through the pleasure, more observation than concern. His blood in my mouth. My blood on his lips where he's been kissing and biting my throat. The two of us bleeding into each other, boundaries dissolving.
I should be afraid.
I'm not.
His rhythm stutters, loses its steadiness. The knot is swelling at the base of his cock—I can feel it catching at my entrance withevery stroke, stretching me wider each time before popping free. Growing bigger. Getting ready to lock us together.
"Kess—" My name comes out broken, desperate. "I can't hold it back?—"
"Don't hold back anything." I bite down on his throat hard enough to make him snarl, hard enough to feel his hips stutter. "Give me your knot. Breed me. Fill me until I can't take any more?—"
The words trigger something primal in both of us.
