Page 32 of Feral Gods
Understanding dawns in her expression, followed by appreciation for the consideration behind my suggestion. Given our size difference, this position allows her maximum control, minimizing potential discomfort from my considerably larger dimensions.
She rises on her knees, positioning herself above me with deliberate care. I guide my length to her entrance, allowing her to take me at her own pace. The sensation as she begins to sink onto me is exquisite—tight, wet heat enveloping me inch by careful inch.
"Slowly," I caution when she winces slightly. "There's no rush."
"I know," she assures me, pausing to adjust before continuing her careful descent. "You're just... larger than I expected."
Despite the intensity of the moment, I find myself grinning. "Warrior's body, warrior's proportions."
A laugh escapes her, the sound transforming into a gasp as the movement seats me deeper within her. "Humble as always."
Gradually, with patience neither of us knew we possessed, she takes me completely, her body stretching to accommodate my size. When she's fully seated, she pauses, hands braced against my chest, eyes closed in concentration.
"Alright?" I ask, the effort of remaining still testing the limits of my control.
"More than alright," she assures me, eyes opening to reveal pupils blown wide with pleasure. "Extraordinary."
She begins to move then, finding a rhythm that brings mutual satisfaction.
My hands span her waist, supporting but not controlling, allowing her to set pace and depth according to her comfort.
The sight of her above me—head thrown back, breasts swaying gently with each movement, expression transformed by pleasure—burns itself into my memory with indelible precision.
As her confidence grows, her movements become more assertive, taking me deeper with each downward stroke.
I match her rhythm, hips rising to meet hers in perfect counterpoint.
The connection transcends mere physical pleasure, creating something I've never experienced before—intimacy beyond the joining of bodies, a meeting of spirits that defies rational explanation.
"Thane," she gasps, pace quickening as pleasure builds toward crescendo. "I'm close again."
"Together," I urge, one hand moving between us to where we're joined, thumb finding the sensitive point that will push her over the edge.
Her second climax triggers my own, her inner walls pulsing around me as I find release deep within her.
The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, washing through me in waves that seem without end.
Her name emerges as a growl from my throat, primal and possessive despite my earlier acceptance of shared claim.
When the last tremors subside, she collapses against my chest, breathing ragged, skin sheened with exertion. I wrap my arms around her smaller form, cradling her with a tenderness I never knew myself capable of before her arrival in our lives.
For several minutes, we lie in contented silence, her heartbeat gradually slowing against my chest. When she finally stirs, it's to raise her head and meet my gaze with unexpected solemnity.
"Thank you," she says simply.
The gratitude confuses me. "For what?"
"For showing me another side of yourself. For trusting me with your vulnerability as well as your strength."
Her perception startles me. I've never considered physical intimacy as revealing vulnerability—quite the opposite, in fact. Yet something in her expression suggests she's seen beyond the warrior exterior to something I've kept carefully hidden, perhaps even from myself.
"I am what circumstances have made me," I reply, uncertain how to respond to such insight. "Stone and claw and battle-lust."
"No," she counters gently, one hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw. "You are what you choose to be, despite circumstances. Protective rather than destructive. Considerate despite your primal nature. Capable of tenderness as well as terrible violence."
Her assessment strikes deeper than anticipated, challenging long-held self-perceptions.
I've defined myself by battle prowess since awakening, accepting the gargoyle's primal nature as my only truth.
Yet her words suggest another possibility—that transformation changed my form but not my essential self, that choices remain despite circumstances.
Before I can formulate a response to this unsettling insight, sounds from outside alert us to Ravik and Zephyr's return. Kaia sighs, pressing a final kiss to my chest before rising to retrieve her scattered clothing.
"Perfect timing," she observes with wry humor. "Just as things were getting philosophical."
I watch her dress with unconcealed appreciation, still processing the implications of our encounter—not merely the physical pleasure, which was considerable, but the emotional landscape she's somehow managed to unearth beneath my warrior's exterior.
"Kaia," I call softly as she finishes adjusting her tunic. When she turns, I find myself momentarily lost for words, uncertain how to express the complexity of what I'm feeling. Finally, I settle for simple truth. "What happened between us—it matters to me. You matter."
Her expression softens, understanding the significance of this admission from one not given to emotional declarations. "You matter to me too, Thane. Very much."
The door opens then, ending our private moment as Ravik enters, his commanding presence filling the small space immediately.
His amber gaze takes in our disheveled appearance, the lingering scent of intimacy, the furs still bearing evidence of our activities.
Something flickers in his expression—not anger or jealousy as might be expected, but something more complex, almost approving.
"The caves are prepared," he announces, practical concerns superseding personal dynamics. "We move at sunset."
As Kaia moves to help gather our supplies, she passes close to Ravik, their proximity generating an almost tangible current of awareness. Yet instead of possessive display, he merely inclines his head slightly—acknowledgment rather than challenge.
At that moment, I recognize a fundamental truth about our evolving situation.
What grows between the four of us transcends simple possession or hierarchy.
Each connection forms its own unique pattern Ravik's protective intensity, Zephyr's intellectual bond, my own primal devotion—creating something stronger than individual claims.
For a being defined by battle and territory, this revelation should disturb me. Instead, I find it strangely satisfying—not diminishment of connection but expansion, not competition but complementary strength.
As we prepare to abandon our temporary refuge for yet another, I watch Kaia move between us with growing confidence—no longer merely our ward but our equal in all the ways that matter.
Whatever dangers lie ahead, whatever enemies pursue us, we face them not as separate entities but as something new and unprecedented—a family forged through choice rather than circumstance, bound by ties stronger than blood or magic.
For the first time since our awakening, I find myself looking toward the future with something approaching hope.