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sixteen

Lenora

My pulse whooshes deafeningly in my skull as Fafnir rides over the hill, atop an unfamiliar mount.

The sight of him both churns my stomach and lights it with a tense, throbbing kind of want .

His dark eyes are more crimson than brown, but I don’t mind either color, so long as they stay locked on me.

He dismounts in one fluid motion, and for the first time, I drag my eyes from his.

My lips parting as the state of him truly sinks in.

Fafnir’s hands are coated in blood, no longer tanned but a deep blue tinged crimson, up to his elbows before it tapers off.

His strong jaw splattered, but it's what’s draped around his neck that rips a ragged gasp from my throat.

Like a blanket of roses draped around the neck of a horse…

are spines. Not one, but many . Involuntarily, I take a step back, apprehension fleeting as I knock into the wall of Valoryrx.

The beast of a mount knocks me forward toward his rider, making me stumble.

Fafnir’s eyes are heated, promising as he stares down at me, the lines of the antler and shield brand on his chest traced in blood.

It's only then that I see the wounds. There aren’t many, but they are deep.

My eyes snap wide as I rush to him when he dismounts, sending the mount off.

My hands hover frantically over his chest, unsure where to touch.

There's not much of it, not coated or splattered in gore, but whom the visceral belongs to is barely enough to stay my hands. “You’re hurt.”

I yelp as he drags the spines off his shoulders, the rattling sound they make nearly upturning my stomach as he tosses them over a nearby rung on the roof of his house. Not a trophy, but a warning. “Inside female.” He growls, and God help me, I whimper .

Faf doesn’t let me turn around, he herds me.

Stalking closer and forcing me into the doorway before he reaches around, throwing it open and letting me stumble into the house.

Immediately, the heat from the hearth hits me.

I hadn’t realized that at some point I’d stopped feeling so cold.

He keeps advancing until the backs of my thighs meet the hearth's high stone wall, forcing me to sit. My head level with the throbbing, tented slight of his cocks. I’m staring, so close I can feel the heat of them.

I can smell the coppery smattering of blood.

Odd, how it can look so different but smell the same.

When he leans forward, his long hair curtains around us.

His chest heaving as his bloodied hand grips my chin, steering my attentions from his cocks to him . “I will have you, Lenora.”

The sound of my name on his tongue does insane things to my insides, the odd off-kilter way he says it with his resonant rolled R’s.

He’s not asking permission. He doesn’t need it.

I’m thrumming, the space between my thighs soaked as he takes the slightest step back, pulling me to a stand by my jaw.

The hands that touch me are both brutal and soft.

His fingers dig in, making my flesh ache in the most pleasant way.

My body is flush with his muscular, equestrian legs, their fur mottled with blood but soft .

The color warm, dark gray, dotted with slightly lighter patches along the sides.

I follow the line of his V where fur is tapered into flesh, my hands trembling as I brace them there, my heart beating at an unsteady sprint.

Fafnir growls as he hauls me up, turning us until my back meets one of the wooden support beams of the house.

I’m panting, my head light and breath rapid as he holds me there at his height.

Supporting me with nothing more than a single hand, but falling is far from my thoughts as he rips my animal hide pants like they're made of paper, baring my soaked underwear to him. I’m hiked higher, my top bunching up my back, revealing my stomach.

His eyes focus there for only a minute before he shoves me up again, hooking my legs on his broad shoulders.

The deep primal way he inhales me makes me see stars, flush rushing down my neck and spilling onto my heaving breasts.

He doesn’t waste time, not a second of it, when he descends on me.

I cry out as he rips the fabric covering my center with his teeth, his mouth covering the needy pulse of my clit as he sucks, hard.

There are no soft kisses or gentle lapping; he devours , feasts like he’s starved.

My guttural moans echo off the vaulted ceilings and high rafters as he forces his thick tongue deep into my center, fucking me with it.

My arms that had been braced on my own thighs snap out, gripping his horns as I grind into his mouth.

My body jerking and thrusting in a way that’s not so delicate and not so pretty, but I don’t think this beast of a male expects me to be.

Tears fill my eyes as my body goes taut, his tongue curling upward and flicking the rough part of me deep inside.

Suddenly, so suddenly, I’m still. “Yes, yes, yes right there, Faf please!” I whimper, the sound of my voice as desperate for something as I’ve ever heard it.

His eyes roll up to meet mine, a scream ripping from my throat as he sucks harder, his teeth adding the slightest pain to the pleasure and I erupt.

My orgasm sends me reeling, my body jerking against his mouth, my knuckles white on his horns, and I ride out each wave.

He doesn’t rush me, doesn’t look away, doesn’t blink.

He’s growling, and the sound reverberates through my center, making me shudder.

His hands fly up to support my back as he pulls me away from the post, lapping languidly at my pulsing core.

If it wasn’t for the smear across my flesh, I would’ve entirely forgotten about the blood.

We’re in the bedroom in a few quick strides, my back connecting jarringly with the soft bed as he drops me from his height.

His eyes are as red as I’ve ever seen them, making a crazed little smile light my lips.

He crawls over me, watching me like every bit of the predator he is.

I shift up, trying to meet him, to slam my lips against his, but he’s faster.

His hand strikes out, swathing my throat and pushing me into the mattress.

At first, I panic at the abrupt lack of air, my hands flying out to grip his forearms, my nails digging into his flesh.

“Stay.” He seethes.

He waits, as if seeking some confirmation from me that he was heard.

My head struggles to nod fully with his large hand covering my entire neck, but I must manage well enough.

When he removes it, my gasp is ragged, my core soaked as I tremble against his sheets.

Sheets that smell like a lovely mix of us both, despite him having insisted that only I sleep here.

Fafnir stalks to the bathroom, leaving me panting and still as stone.

I listen as the water rushes on, trying my best not to count the seconds as he washes himself of gore.

My head tilts, ever so slightly, watching him furiously scrub at his flesh, making quick work of it, but as he turns, red eyes meet mine.

My focus only stays there for a moment before it dips to the ruddy state of his twin cocks.

They aren’t quite twins, though, not really.

Stacked one above the other, the first seems still…

large by human standards but thinner, longer and more ridged than its lower counterpart.

That one, the lower girthy one already weeping a pearlescent liquid from the tip that lets in the first tendril of fear, its… too big. He can’t expect me to take it.

I can’t. Nobody could take it.

“Female,” he growls, forcing my attention back to his face.

Whatever fear I felt must’ve shown because he forgoes washing further, stalking back toward me.

His warm gray hair dripping with water, looking darker, nearly a smoky color because of it.

I don’t know if it’s the look in his crimson eyes, or the way he prowls toward me, towering above like a god, but I know there’s no stopping him now, no getting through to him in whatever state he’s in.

I’ll take it, because he will demand it of me.

For a moment, it was almost too easy to forget; this is why I’m here, to be bred by him.

To be stuffed and filled with his seed again and again until it takes root.

His hands clasp over my thighs. I used to think they were so large, almost unseemly so, but they look far smaller like this as he drags me toward him.

The way he studies my center only makes my flush grow as he spreads me wide.

His large, thick fingers dip between my folds, spreading them.

I can’t hold back my whimper as he runs a finger over my opening, stopping to gently prod and tease my clit.

He must’ve done his research on human anatomy.

The thought of the Oozarians providing details about our erogenous zones is far less pleasant of a thought.