Page 102 of Fated in A Time of War

He devours me slowly, drawing out my pleasure until I’m writhing beneath him, fists knotted in the furs, back arching off the ground. When I finally come, it crashes over me like a tide, long and consuming. I cry out his name as the wave crests, my whole body trembling.

He rises over me then, licking my release from his lips like it’s nectar. His cock—long, thick, ridged, sheened with his own precum—juts from between his thighs. It’s alien, yes, but beautiful in its own dangerous way. I reach for it, wrapping my hand around the thick shaft. He groans, eyes narrowing with hunger, claws curling into the ground beside me.

“You feel… incredible,” I murmur. “Let me take you in.”

“You’ll have all of me,” he growls, voice deep with restraint. “But we go slow. I won’t hurt you.”

I nod, guiding him to me, legs parting in invitation. He lines himself up and pushes the head of his cock into my pussy—just the tip—and the stretch is already incredible. He’s thick, his length pressing into me with deliberate patience.

“Fuck,” I gasp, nails digging into his arms. “You’re so big.”

He leans down, kissing me deeply, distracting me as he slides in inch by inch. His breath comes in hot pants, his muscles taut with restraint. “Almost there,” he whispers. “Just a little more.”

When he’s fully seated inside me, our bodies pressed flush, we both pause. I’ve never felt so filled, so complete. His cock throbs inside me, stretching me to the limit but never past. I cling to him, pressing kisses to his jaw, whispering his name over and over.

“You’re perfect,” he groans. “You were made for me.”

He begins to move—slow, deep strokes that make my vision blur. I wrap my legs around his waist, meeting each thrust, feeling his scales slide against my skin, his heat inside and outconsuming me. The rhythm builds, not rushed, but inevitable. Every stroke grinds against my inner walls, pushing me closer and closer to that edge again.

Krall grips my hips, angling me just right. “Come for me, Alyssa,” he demands, voice broken with need. “I need to feel you shatter around me.”

I do.

My orgasm hits like lightning, sharp and blinding. My pussy clamps around his cock, drawing a growl from him that echoes like thunder. He pumps harder, faster, losing his rhythm as his own climax rises.

“Fuck—” he snarls. “I’m going to?—”

He buries himself to the hilt, roaring as he comes, spilling deep inside me. His cock pulses again and again, heat flooding me, his body trembling with the force of it.

When he collapses beside me, pulling me into the curve of his arm, there’s nothing but breath and firelight and the silence of peace.

“I’ve never belonged anywhere,” he says softly, brushing his knuckles along my jaw. “Until you.”

I press a kiss to his chest, over the heart that once only beat for war. “You’re mine now,” I whisper. “And I’m yours.”

And that is enough.

The room has never lookedthis small—or this beautiful.

Krall sleeps beside me, breath slow and deep. The soft rumble of it is the only lullaby this war-scarred heart needs. His chest rises and falls beneath bare skin that feels too warm to touch, yet my fingers drift there anyway. Instinct takes over, drawing my hand across the landscape of scars.

My fingers trace one scaleline that arcs from his clavicle down to the pectoral. I didn’t give him that one—Horus IV, aplasma shard, and a choice that nearly cost me everything I held dear. I know the edges of it by heart. Every imperfection, every stiff line of healed flesh. And I don’t recoil. I hold it like sacred history.

War made him. War broke him. But war doesn't define him.

Our love does.

The silence in the room is thick—comfortable. Outside the small viewport, the solar panels’ soft hum blends with the faint hiss of night wind. In the gardens below, the spiral vines sway like quiet sentinels, their leaves murmuring against each other, holding vigil over our peace.

My eyelids grow heavy, but I stay awake, soaking in the fact that he’s here, breathing beside me, whole again.

“Home,” I murmur, pressing a kiss to the ridge of his shoulder. “You are home.”

He stirs, doesn’t wake. I smile into the softness of his skin and close my eyes.

The wind shifts outside, carrying a faint echo of distant battle—like a reminder that the war hasn’t ended. Somewhere in the cosmos someone else is fighting, someplace far away from us.

But here—in this forgotten settlement, on this quiet planet, in this fragile peace—we are more than survivors.

We are proof.

Proof that even in a time built for death, love can endure.

And not only endure—it wins.

I rest, anchored in the rhythm of his heartbeat, knowing that whatever comes next, we have each other.

That is everything.