Page 49 of Betrothed

Zax grabbed her hips, stilling her. “You will make me come,” he warned.

“Isn’t that the—ohhh.” Fawn trailed off into a moan as he thrust back and forth, unable to take his eyes away from how her holes stretched around him.

Zax realized with no small shock that he could feel his cocks rub against each other through her holes. He could even feel himself pulse, his shafts throbbing in time as he thrusted. Small thrusts. He could not will himself to pull out very far before pushing back in, more rutting than thrusting.

The circle of oil around them lit up. At first, Zax pulled Fawn closer, thinking it was fire. But no heat emanated from the circle, only bright white light. Zax watched it reflect against Fawn’s flushed brown skin and thought, not for the first time, that Fawn was gods-sent. He did not truly believe that Titans had given her to him. But he could not believe that Fawn was a random accident. She was too important to be anything but destined for him.

He could take it no longer. He snapped his hips, drawing a moan from both of them as he began thrusting in earnest.

“You are the best thing I have ever felt,” Zax said raggedly. “Tight and wet and perfect. I could do this forever.”

Fawn groaned in reply. She was shaking, still arching against him as his thrusts quickened. The drag was different in her lower hole, and Zax was glad for the slick. But he did not slow down to spit on his cock again, too lost in the impossible pleasure of both his cocks inside her.

Fawn reached back blindly, covering his hand on her hip and squeezing.

Zax reacted mindlessly. He hauled her up against him, plastering her back to his chest as he mated her. One hand gripped her breast, the other held her tight against him by her belly. If he pressed hard enough, he could feel the outline of his upper cock in her stomach.

“C-careful,” Fawn gasped. “Don’t smudge it!”

It took Zax an addled moment to realize what she meant. Then he hooked his head over her own and saw it: the circle he’d drawn over her heart was glowing with the same pale light as the circle of oil around them. His own chest was glowing, too. It was muffled between them, but glowing strongly.

They were not just mating, Zax reminded himself. They were forming a lifebond.

It filled Zax with overwhelming fervor. He clasped Fawn tighter, nuzzling her beloved short curls. The spell was spreading through him now, tingling much like the size spell, except without the horrible weakness that came with it. This tingling was hotter, more alive, spreading through him like a sunrise.

“I can feel the spell in my core,” he told her. “Tingling and fizzing. Tying us together. Can you feel it?”

“Ye-e-s,” Fawn said, her voice choppy from his thrusts. She reached up this time, gripping his broken horn with desperate, damp fingers.

Zax groaned louder as sensation ran down his horn and joined the others. His pleasure was building, but it was imperceptible from the magic coiling through him. Through them.

“You will be mine, always,” Zax said into her hair. “Mine to care for. Mine to fuck. Mine to worship.”

“And y-you will be mine,” Fawn moaned.

The tingling sensation sank deeper, echoing into his bones. He could somehow feel it sink into Fawn’s fragile mortal bones along with his own, the light swelling around them as the spell took hold.

Nearly, Zax thought, unable to form words now. He was too close. Too close to orgasm, too close to the spell’s zenith—they were so similar he could not tell the difference.

Fawn cried out and came, tightening around him. Zax crushed her close with a roar, a vicious noise that turned into a desperate whine as the magic pulsed and glowed and bound them together.

It went on and on. Zax grew less aware of his own body and more aware of Fawn’s: her softness and smallness and deep, sharp anger; her squashed desires finally coming to a head the longer she knew him. It was astounding. Zax was in awe. If he was not already on his knees, he would have dropped to them in worship of his wonderful, rageful wife.

Zax blacked out. When he came to, the spell-light was gone, and he was no longer inside his wife. The oil around them was simply oil. Fawn was curled against his side, panting softly. Come dripped down her thighs and into the twisted blanket, and Zax’s spent cocks twitched with want.

He took Fawn’s face in his hands, stroking her freckled cheeks until her eyes opened.

“It is done,” he murmured. “We are bound. You will not wither until I do.”

Fawn smiled shakily. She reached up and caressed his skull mask.

“My love,” she said. “My Zax.”

Zax kissed her. He tasted salt and pulled back to see tears on her cheeks. He licked them off, certain that he had not hurt her. There was no pain in the air, only oil and sweat and come. Zax kissed a path down her body next, losing himself in the curve of her neck and, later, the soft skin under her small breasts. Then her belly, and the near-invisible coat of down on her skin that got thicker and muskier once he reached her thighs. Then he settled there, licking away her release before pressing his tongue inside her holes.

First her upper hole, as his brother had mentioned—if he was to lick both, he had to lick the upper one first. Then, when she was writhing and whimpering but clean, he moved down to clean her lower hole, relishing how she squeezed around him. Even with the spell, she was so tight the clench felt impossible.

He stayed there a while longer, kissing her legs. He ran his tongue down the underside of her knee and pressed his lips to her healing ankle.