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"More?" I ask, because I already know the answer, because I want to hear her say it.

She nods, wrecked, eyes wide and pleading.

And then I stop holding back.

The force of me pours into her all at once—sharp, endless, raw like teeth scraping down her spine—and she splinters apart beneath me, legs trembling, voice breaking on a cry that shatters something in me. I lean over her without thinking, mouth at her throat, her skin salt-sweet and soft and mine. The bond pulls tighter, humming under my tongue as I drag it over her pulse point, and her fingers find my shirt, yanking me down like she’ll drown if I’m not anchored to her.

I slide my knee between her thighs, pressing her open, grinding her down, still pouring every last thread of want, need, hunger into her. Her body bucks and shakes, and I feel her fall apart again—this time with a sound torn from somewhere deep, her nails biting into my back.

I catch her mouth in a kiss that’s filthy, messy, desperate. There’s no distance left between us now, no restraint. I kissher until she can’t breathe, until we’re both gasping, and then I murmur against her lips, rough and raw and wrecked:

"Let me have you, Luna. Let me ruin you properly."

Her thighs lock around my hips like a vice, her body already pliant and wrecked beneath me, but the look in her eyes—gods, it’s worse than her moans, worse than her shaking limbs. She’s looking at me like she wants me to consume her. Like she’ll let me. Like she wants nothing left of herself except what I give back to her.

My fingers slide beneath her thigh, gripping, lifting, positioning her, and her breath catches when I grind against her, my body already hard and aching from every noise she's made. My restraint cracks at the edges. I’ve starved for her, kept myself tucked away, broken and bleeding after Branwen—but Luna? She’s the only thing that’s ever made me feel alive.

I dip my head, dragging my mouth over her throat, tasting the salt-slick of her skin, her pulse thundering wildly. She shudders beneath me when I kiss lower, across her collarbone, slow, deliberate, like she’s the last sweet thing I’ll ever taste.

And when I press inside her—slow, brutal, careful—it feels like the world stops spinning. She gasps, her fingers digging into my arms, nails sharp, dragging me deeper. My power hums beneath my skin, slipping into hers like liquid heat, like a current neither of us can resist. She’s wet, warm, already spent but still wanting. Always wanting.

"You feel it, don't you?" I murmur against her ear, voice like gravel, like sin. "How full you are. How much I want you."

Her breath hitches on a moan, her hips rolling to meet me without shame, without hesitation. "Yes."

That one word is my undoing.

I start to move, slow at first, just to feel the way she clenches around me, but the second her thighs tighten again, I lose whatever fragile restraint I had left. I fuck her like I’m starving,like I’ve bled for her and would again, driving into her hard enough that the bed creaks beneath us.

Her back arches, her mouth falling open around a sound she can’t bite back, and I catch her lips again, swallowing every broken noise. My power keeps spilling out of me, feeding her, winding around her nerves until she’s shaking, until her legs quake around me.

"You're so good for me," I rasp, driving deeper, rougher, hands gripping her hips like she’ll disappear if I let go. "You’re mine, Luna."

Her hands tangle in my hair, dragging me closer. "Yours."

That word wrecks me.

I feel her pulse under my tongue, her body spiraling again—her third, fourth, maybe fifth climax—I’ve lost count because every time I push into her, it drags her back under. I can feel it through the bond, the way she’s coming undone, the way she’s losing herself entirely to me.

And I love it.

My mouth trails lower, biting her throat, kissing her lips between ragged breaths. "You’ll feel me for days," I promise, voice rough silk. "You’ll still ache tomorrow."

Luna whines under me, her hips bucking, her body liquid and trembling and so goddamn perfect.

I thrust harder, chasing my own unraveling now, her body slick and tight around me, her nails biting into my skin like she wants to leave scars.

When I finally let go, it feels like falling.

It feels like her.

I bury my face in her throat, breathing her in like she’s air and I’ve been drowning, still moving, drawing every last drop of pleasure out of both of us until we’re nothing but wreckage and want and need.

And when I finally still, when her hands soften in my hair, her legs loose around my waist, I don’t move away. I stay there, buried in her, her breath warm against my ear, her body molded perfectly to mine.

"Better?" she asks after a beat, voice a hoarse little tease.

I laugh against her throat, the sound raw and shaken. "Much."