“Female,” he says, and it sounds more like him. Still growled, still desperate, but with recognition behind it. “My female. Bred. Claimed. Mine.”
“Yours,” I manage to whisper, because what else is there to say? My body has already declared it louder than words. The bioluminescent marks covering my skin, the swollen belly full of his seed, the way my pussy still grips his tentacle like it never wants to let go—everything about me screams my surrender.
He pulses inside me again, and I moan at the sensation. I'm so full that I can feel the pressure everywhere—against my lungs, making breathing difficult; against my other organs, rearranging my insides to accommodate his claim.
“Almost done,” he says, though I'm not sure if it's a promise or a warning. “One more.”
The final pulse is different. The consistency is thicker, almost gel-like, and I can feel it coating everything inside me. It's creating a barrier, sealing his seed inside my womb, ensuring that my body will continue absorbing it for hours, maybe days.
The lock finally begins to deflate, and the withdrawal is agonizing in its slowness. Each ridge drags against my oversensitive walls, making me whimper and shake. When hefinally pulls free, I expect a flood, but the seal holds. Only a small amount escapes, the rest trapped inside me by that final barrier.
I collapse onto the moss, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything but exist in the aftermath of being so thoroughly claimed. My belly remains swollen, looking six months pregnant at least. The bioluminescent marks pulse all over my skin in patterns that match my heartbeat. Between my legs, I'm swollen and sore but somehow still aching for more.
“Female survived,” he says, and there's awe in his voice. “Took everything. Every drop of seed.”
He curls around me, his tentacles creating a protective barrier while I'm vulnerable. One tentacle strokes my swollen belly gently, and I can feel the seed inside respond, warming under his touch.
“Frenzy broke promise,” he says after a long moment. “Said three days. Couldn't wait.”
“I know,” I whisper. “It's okay.”
“Female forgives?”
I turn my head to look at him, this impossible creature who's claimed me so completely. His eyes are fully silver again, the frenzy finally passed. He looks exhausted but satisfied in a way that goes beyond physical.
“There's nothing to forgive,” I tell him honestly. “My body needed this as much as yours did.”
He pulls me closer, and I feel safe despite everything. Despite being bred beyond reason, despite being swollen with his seed, despite being changed on levels I'm only beginning to understand.
“Tomorrow,” he says, “this one shows female the difference. How breeding is when controlled. When can take time, build slowly, savor.”
“This wasn't savoring?”
“This was frenzy. Desperate claiming. Tomorrow is worship.”
I drift toward sleep, my body finally able to rest now that it's gotten what it's been screaming for since I arrived. The last thing I'm aware of is his contentment—a sound that's not quite purring, not quite humming, but something that resonates through water and stone and directly into my bones.
NAIA
Iwake to sensation returning where there had been only numbness.
My fingers move first, then my toes. The simple act of flexing them feels like a miracle after spending all of yesterday unable to do anything but exist as a swollen vessel for Aylth's seed. My belly is still rounded, still heavy, but no longer the impossible dome it was after the frenzy. The bioluminescent marks on my skin pulse faintly in the cave's darkness, creating patterns that shift when I breathe.
“Female wakes.”
Aylth surfaced near the ledge, his head and shoulders breaking the water. Silver-blue again, not the terrifying black of the frenzy. He's been watching me sleep. Probably has been all night, all through yesterday when I couldn't move.
I try to sit up and manage it, though my abdomen protests. The movement makes me aware of every change the frenzy left behind. My breasts are heavier, more sensitive. Between my legs, I'm tender but not painful. The bruising from the frenzy healed overnight, his secretions working through my bloodstream while I slept.
“How?” I touch my inner thigh where yesterday there were purple marks from his grip. Now just smooth skin that glows faintly where his suckers had attached.
“This one applied healing secretions through the night. And yesterday. And the night before.” He rises higher from the water, and I see exhaustion in the set of his shoulders. “Female's body needed time to process the breeding. To adapt. This one helped where possible.”
“You haven't slept.”
“Sleep matters less than female's recovery.”
He pulls himself onto the ledge beside me, movements careful, almost hesitant. Like he's afraid to touch me. His tentacles, usually spreading confidently around us, stay tucked close to his body. The contrast to the frenzy is absolute. Then, he couldn't stop touching me. Now, he maintains distance like physical space might undo damage.
