Page 68 of Craving His Venom
I shift upward, wrapping my arms around her back as I sit, pressing her against my chest. Her thighs straddle me, one hand on my shoulder, the other buried in my hair. She bounces in my lap, each thrust shallow but sharp, both cocks stroking her from within.
We’re flush together now—breath mingling, heartbeats crashing.
And then her body stiffens. “Now Vahziryn—please?—”
She shatters.
Her pussy spasms violently around both cocks, milking the ridge between them, drawing a guttural growl from my throat. My barbs flare as her orgasm hits, locking me inside her slick heat. And in that moment, I angle my face to her neck and sink my fangs in.
She cries out, not in pain—but in surrender.
My venom flows—a small dose, ceremonial. Enough to mark her, to seal us. Her pulse races under my tongue as herbody clenches around me again, dragged into another wave of pleasure by the bite alone.
That breaks me.
With a roar, I thrust once more and come deep inside her. My lower cock jerks, releasing in thick, hot spurts. The sensation is unbearable—pure ecstasy, sharpened by the way her walls squeeze every drop from me. The upper shaft throbs against her soaked clit, overstimulated by the pressure, the slickness, the way she shakes in my arms.
I lick the wound at her shoulder clean, soothing it with soft strokes of my tongue. “You’re mine now,” I murmur, chest aching with how much I feel. “Not by force, not by tradition. But by choice.”
She smiles through the afterglow, tears clinging to her lashes. “I’ve always been yours.”
We lie back, limbs entwined, her body soft and boneless on top of me. My cocks slowly soften, barbs retreating as I pull out, careful not to cause discomfort. Warmth leaks from between her thighs, and I hiss softly at the sight—satisfaction, possession, love.
Candlelight flickers across her flushed skin. I brush my fingers over her belly, then up to the mark on her neck. The bite is faint, but it’s there. Proof of our bond. Proof that no council, no law, no ancient curse can break what we’ve built.
I kiss her temple, whispering promises I can’t yet name.
And in the hush of our jungle estate, with her heartbeat steady against mine, I finally understand what peace feels like.
She nods, eyes closing as she snuggles closer, a soft smile curving her lips. “More than all right,” she manages, voice hoarse. “That was... everything.”
My chest swells with relief. I brush my palm gently over the bite on her shoulder, finding only a faint mark, a slight break inthe skin. “You carry my venom again,” I whisper. “This time not in challenge, but in devotion.”
She shivers, placing her hand over mine. “I feel it, a warm pulse in my veins, but no pain.” She meets my gaze, eyes brimming with contentment. “I love you, Vahziryn. No matter what tomorrow brings, I’m yours as an equal, never a servant.”
Emotion wells in me, overwhelming. I cradle her face, tail winding around her waist again. “You’ve never been a servant,” I say, voice unsteady. “I was too blind to see it at first, but you were always my equal. My sanctuary.” My heart hammers as I let the final words spill: “My mate.”
Tears spill down her cheeks. She presses her mouth to mine in a tender kiss, lingering and reverent, no frenzy, just the echo of everything we’ve fought for. The bed creaks as we shift closer, her belly resting gently against me. A hush pervades the room, deeper than any silence we’ve known before.
Eventually, she lays her head on my shoulder, lulled by exhaustion and the afterglow’s softness. I keep an arm around her, tail draped protectively over her thighs. My double shafts retract carefully, barbs no longer pressing, the wave of ecstasy fading into quiet intimacy. We share a few slow breaths, then she murmurs, “We’re truly free now.”
I hold her closer. “Free to shape our life,” I say softly, chest tight with gratitude. “I renounced everything, but gained so much more: a mate who accepted my darkest secrets and survived my venom not once, but twice.”
She chuckles, a sleepy warmth in her voice. “Your venom can’t scare me anymore.” Her eyelids droop, and she nestles into the crook of my arm. “Tomorrow, we can plan the orchard replanting, or decide to roam beyond the nest’s borders. The choice is ours.”
My throat constricts at the thought of such simple, precious plans. “Yes,” I whisper, tail flicking once in satisfaction. “We’ll do all of it, at our pace. No council, no forced exile.”
She nods, drifting. Her breathing deepens, the tension draining from her limbs. I remain awake a while longer, stroking her hair in the dimly lit chamber. My eyes roam over her shoulder, spotting the faint bruise where I bit her. Guilt stings for an instant, but then I recall the ecstasy in her cry, the acceptance in her gaze. This mark cements our bond, not in pain but in a final vow of trust.
A gentle wind wafts through the open window, rustling the curtains. The jungle’s nocturnal chorus rises—chirping insects, distant croaks, the hush of wind through tangled vines. I close my eyes, letting that lullaby wash over me. She rests against me, warm and safe, our child tucked between us. I sense a faint stirring through her skin, perhaps the baby responding to the swirl of mother’s contentment and father’s devotion.
I think of the long path that led us here: her arrival in my domain, the venom challenge that nearly claimed her life, the capital’s tribunal, the serpent tree vows. All culminating in this final moment: she’s no longer a servant, no longer overshadowed by fear. She’s my mate, carrying our future. And I, no longer a warlord shackled by the nest’s cruelty, cherish her freely.
I brush a final kiss on her brow, letting my tail coil more snugly in an embrace that wards off the night’s chill. My heart beats with a slow, steady pulse, unburdened by condemnation. For the first time, I feel entirely at peace, no hidden corners of shame or worry. We overcame everything, forging a bond revered by archaic law and sealed by personal choice.
Sleep comes in gentle waves, my mind hazy with images of an orchard in bloom, a child toddling between scaled arms and soft human hands, laughter echoing through the refurbished hallsof this manor. And through it all, Mira stands with me, never cowering, always equal, her voice carrying that subtle, defiant softness that both humbles and enthralls me.
Before oblivion claims me, I whisper her name again, voice hushed and reverent. She stirs, half-smiling, pressing unconsciously closer to my scaled chest. My tail holds her in place, a silent vow that I’ll never again let any force tear us apart. We are mates, bonded by venom, law, and love—and that final truth is all we need.
Beneath the still breath of the jungle night, our child sleeps safe between two hearts that once fought the nest’s darkest traditions. Now, in this quiet room, we forge a future that belongs to us alone, bound by the softest bite and the strongest devotion. And I know, as I slip into a restful slumber, that this is only the beginning of a life we shape on our own terms, each heartbeat echoing the vow: mine, ours, always.