But his gentleness makes it bearable. He goes slow. He grinds his teeth, his face taking on an agonized control. A deep, shuddering groan rumbles from his chest as he seats himself, inch by agonizing inch, fully inside me.
He is a mountain, and he is filling me. I am full to bursting.
He stays still. For a long, eternal moment, his entire body vibrating with control.
Then, slowly, he pulls back, just an inch. And presses in again.
The pleasure is a shock.
It is not sharp. It is deep. It is full. It consumes the pain. It answers the need. It is overwhelming.
My fear is gone. It is burned away by pure, primal sensation.
"Threk..." I gasp, my voice a shred. The sound of his name in this moment is torture in ecstasy.
He groans, the sound a vibration that shakes me. He moves again. Slow. Deep.
"Oh, gods... Threk..."
He pulls back farther. He thrusts deeper.
A cry is ripped from my throat. My head thuds against the wall. The pleasure is too big. It is too much.
It is everything.
"Please..." I sob, my fingers digging into his shoulders. "Threk, please..."
My plea breaks his control.
The reverence is consumed by instinct. His childlike curiosity has disappeared.
The savage is here.
"Fuck me, Threk!" I scream, my voice raw, my body arching off the floor, demanding it. "Please, fuck me!"
He roars.
It is a low sound of release. He claims my mouth in another devouring kiss, swallowing my screams.
His thrusts become deep. Hard. Wild.
He is claiming me. He is branding me. He is a storm, and I am lost in it. This is not making love. This is survival. This is a primal claiming on a dirt floor in a world of ice.
My pleasure spikes. It is driven wild by his size, his power, his animalistic cries. It builds too fast.
I shatter.
My body convulses around him, a violent, searing release that rips a spleen-splitting scream from my throat.
My climax triggers his.
He roars, a deep, agonized sound, his back arching. His tusks graze my shoulder. He slams into me, one last time, a possession so deep it touches my soul.
He spills his heat into me, a hot, gushing flood, his massive body shuddering with the force of his release.
He collapses.
But not on me. He catches himself on his massive, shaking arms. He is a cage of sweat-slicked muscle over me. A living shelter.
