"Maya," I warn, my hands fisting at my sides. "If you keep doing that..."
But she's determined to prove herself, to show she can handle pleasuring something so much larger than any human male. She works with careful enthusiasm, using her tongue andlips to worship the head while her hands stroke what she can't fit.
The sight of her—innocent and eager, learning to pleasure my inhuman anatomy—pushes my rut to dangerous levels.
"Show me more," she whispers when she pulls back, and the simple request nearly destroys my restraint completely.
"You don't understand what you're asking for," I manage. "When my rut takes over completely, I become something else. Something that will claim you so thoroughly you'll forget your own name."
"I want to forget my name," she breathes. "I want to forget everything except being yours."
The last thread of my control snaps.
I'm on her before she can take another breath, my mouth claiming hers with desperate hunger while my hands map her fevered skin. She tastes like magic and submission and everything I've ever craved.
"Mine," I growl against her throat. "Perfect little omega, finally ready to be claimed properly."
My vines respond to my loss of control by multiplying, emerging from both forearms in greater numbers than before. They begin exploring her body with methodical thoroughness while I devour her mouth.
When one vine trails between her legs and finds her dripping wet, we both groan at the contact.
"Please," she gasps when I break the kiss to breathe. "I need... I can't think..."
"Don't think," I command. "Just feel. Just respond. Let me show you what it means to belong to a Fae completely."
My cock pulses painfully against her thigh, leaving trails of precum. The need to knot, to lock inside her and breed her properly, is becoming physically painful. My rut demands Iclaim her completely, but the rational part of my mind knows she's not ready for that level of intensity yet.
"Let me show you what you do to me," I say through gritted teeth, positioning my cock so it slides between her thighs without penetrating.
The prehensile length moves with purpose now, the head finding her clit and beginning to stroke with perfect pressure. I'm not inside her, but I'm claiming her pleasure completely, using my unique anatomy to stimulate her in ways no human male could manage.
"Oh God," she gasps. "It's like you're touching me everywhere at once."
"Feel how perfectly we fit together," I manage to say, though speaking is becoming difficult. My knot is beginning to swell even without penetration. "Even without claiming you properly, your body knows what it was made for."
She's shaking within minutes, her hands gripping my shoulders as I drive her toward another climax. When she comes, crying out my name, the scent of her release nearly destroys me. I let myself follow—spilling across her stomach and thighs—but even the relief can't ease the ache in my knot.
"That's it," I murmur as she shakes through the aftershocks. "Perfect little omega, learning what you were made for."
When she finally opens her eyes, they're hazy with satisfaction and wonder.
"I've never felt anything like that," she admits breathlessly. "And seeing you lose control like that... it's incredible."
"You did that to me," I tell her. "Your touch, your responses—they pushed me past eight centuries of control."
She's mine now in ways that go beyond the physical. Her responses, her pleasure, her desperate need for my specific touch—it's all claimed, all conditioned to my exact anatomy and pheromones.
"What happens next?" she asks, though her body is already responding with renewed arousal.
"Next, I teach you to crave this above everything else," I tell her, my vines beginning their exploration again. "Until my touch becomes more necessary than air."
"I already can't function without it," she confesses, and the admission makes my rut surge with possessive satisfaction.
Perfect. She's exactly where I need her to be—completely dependent on my specific touch, craving my anatomy above all else, ready to accept whatever I choose to give her.
The only question now is how long I can maintain enough control to prepare her properly for what's coming.
Looking at her flushed, eager face, feeling the way her body responds to every touch, I'm not certain I can maintain control much longer at all.
