Page 13 of Taken (After the End #6)

Reaching the mattress, I slide onto it and rise onto my knees in the rut position, but she does not present her backside to me for breeding.

Instead, she pulls me on top of her, so we are chest to chest, and she spreads her thighs around my hips, which are scaled.

I cannot rut her like this. My scales might tear up her delicate skin.

I squeeze the inside of her thigh, rubbing my fingers maddeningly over the brown skin.

It’s a lighter shade of brown than mine when I am not in my Mpo form, and so much softer than mine. So. Fucking. Soft.

Her fingers are carelessly tender on my cheek. Does she not feel how I tremble? I’m a monster born of bloodthirsty things, and she’s a tiny, lustful little angel.

Her fingers move to tangle in my hair, pulling at all kinds of sensitive nerves that have, till now, remained dormant. Maybe have never existed. I’m caught in her scent. Tangled there, too. She smells uncannily like the sun, like a raging fire, and like the brilliant room in the cave underneath us.

While the rest of the space was something from a nightmare, there was one room that was different from the rest. I liked that room and sat in it for some time.

While my fellow warriors raided and stole whatever they could find, I merely sat.

What need have I for more bones, more death?

I want life, and I felt alive in that room.

I recognize now what struck me about that room, besides the beautiful depictions of the Barrens that had been colored across the walls, was the scent.

Dragging her scent into my lungs now, my spine arches, my toes curl.

I feel alive in her arms like I’ve never felt before.

I’m not going to be able to resist her, am I? The demon has me possessed.

I kiss her a little more firmly, daring my tongue to snake out and taste hers as it demands entry.

I ignite as our tongues collide. My movements start to become more frantic, but the succubus knows how to play me.

She stays calm, gentling her kiss, gripping me firmly between her thighs to slow the erratic pace of my thrusts.

Though I am the dominant, I follow where she leads, wherever she will lead me.

Her breasts rub against my chest as I feast upon her lust. So tender, I hesitate to touch her soft chest. I don’t know what to touch, where I’m allowed to touch, so I keep my hands fisted in the one blanket atop my bed.

It’s made of a light wool, good for all weather, but scratchy. Not made to cover soft things.

I keep kissing her mouth, as that’s the only place I’ve been given permission, but occasionally, I stray. I kiss her cheek, the side of her neck, bury my nose in her hair. She smells like divinity. She smells like sin. She smells like the room of pretty things beneath the Barrens.

She snakes an arm between our bodies and I almost seed right then as her fingertips brush my penis.

She grabs hold of the shaft with confidence, despite the fact that she can’t even reach all the way around—even without the release of my latch—and fuck, if that doesn’t just fill me with a sick satisfaction.

I want to see myself seated inside of her all the way up to the root.

See how her small body takes my girth. But fuck.

I don’t want to hurt her. I need to pull back…

She tugs me forward by the cock. I don’t resist at all, but collapse on top of her, struggling to keep my weight balanced between my arms. My knees dig into the mattress. All of my restraint is in use here. The urge to look down and watch myself being handled by her is too much.

I lift my hips, see her satin stomach and full breasts and fleshy fucking mound so close to my cock now.

My cock is cradled between her fingers, appearing massive, daunting, untakeable.

But the little siren must know something I don’t because she starts to guide me toward her sex and the curls concealing it.

This is wrong. The thought’s intrusive. But I want this.

But it’s wrong. And I will take it anyway.

My fangs protract and I hiss and grab her wrist just as the bulging tip of my erection meets an even greater heat. The lips of her sex are the softest part about this impossibly soft creature beneath me.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell her, holding her wrist in a loose grip while keeping myself propped up on one elbow.

My forearm is above her head, bracketing her completely beneath me.

“I will bite you tonight to give you my mating mark, but I do not need to rut you,” I tell her, panting. “I can wait to breed.”

She licks her lips and nods her head. Is she saying yes?

Is this a gesture I understand? I tick my chin to the right, wondering if she understands the sign for confusion just as well.

“Whatever you want from me, I will give you. You don’t have to do this.

” And it’s true. I’ve accepted her for a prize.

She is mine to do with what I please, but is also under my protection.

She sucks in a deep breath and uses her free hand to massage her left breast while her right hand works my cock.

My senses are overwhelmed. I hang my head in defeat.

It’s too much. Fuck. I drop my hips and as my cock meets resistance, I lower mine.

I never stood a chance, I think to myself as my cock breaches the heat of her lips to find wetness inside.

She is wet for me. I can scarcely believe it.

I press the head of my cock inside her, working my way slowly forward, inch by forceful inch.

I am electrified and eager as she takes me to places I have never been.

She moans, her head tossed back, her eyes squeezed shut.

I can’t decide if the sound is pain or pleasure, and I pull back.

She clenches her thighs around me and pistons her hips up, taking more of me, more than I thought possible.

The sensation skittering across my lower back is too much.

I thrust. She moans, and this time she moans my fucking name.

“Lacchus,” she mewls.

So it is true. She is a devil of some kind.

A cold fear grips me. How does she know my name?

But the sensation of her body sheathing me is incredible.

I can’t retreat. I suppose if I am to become slave to a demon, that she’s a succubus has at least one benefit.

I may at least enjoy it, if it’s to be my final moment.

I thrust again, my head bowed beside hers as pleasure and defeat cascade through me.

I’m almost all the way inside of her. Impossibly, she’s stretched to accommodate me, a demon made for the taking, to take anything—even me and all my monstrosity.

I’m so close to releasing already.

I’m shaking. Her back is arching, and her legs are hinged at the knee. I slip my hands beneath them and rise into a kneeling position. I want to see her. I spread her thighs wider, wider, wider still, until she’s spread out like an offering before me, and I can see all of her in perfect glory.

My cock disappearing into her body is an unholy sight. “Augh,” I moan up into the sky, visible through the hole in the tent above me.

We of tribe Vironai believe that the sky is our greatest adversary.

It is unforgiving in its heat, the way that it withholds clouds and rain.

And, as we must with any adversary, it is our duty to keep watch over it at all times.

We do nothing beneath the cover of shelter.

Everything worth doing is done under the sky.

The way she spreads for me, her medium brown skin paling along the insides of her thighs, the way her brown lips flower around my cock, taking it inside of her body so hungrily. The way her back arches as she thrashes on the sheets, enjoying this or enduring it? I cannot tell definitively.

I thrust again, shaking her whole body with the movement. I pound. Watch her breasts bounce and her mouth open. I reach for her chest and squeeze one breast and then the other. She gasps, “Lacchus,” and says more soft and desperate things in her native language.

Her pretty pink tongue wets her bottom lip. She reaches for me, but I don’t let her take my fingers. I don't want her cutting herself on my claws. Even if she is a demon. Or worse. Even if she is an assassin sent from another tribe to end us.

I fuck her regardless of what she is, of what this all means.

Watch her slick glisten on my shaft. Watch my own pale orange-colored pre-cum smear with hers.

Watch her reach down between her curls and touch herself.

The sight of her eyes flitting rapidly behind closed lids makes me angry.

She’s close, but I want to be the one to make her feel pleasure.

I push her hand aside and replace her fingers with my knuckles.

Rapidly, I swish them over her most sensitive area.

All spread open, her dark-colored skin is so soft.

Her anatomy is not unlike that of the Vironai females, only her clit seems to be larger, more swollen.

She is more sensitive to stimuli and reacts wildly when I scrape my claws down her inner thighs with one hand while my other releases her other leg in favor of roughly pawing at her right breast and pinching her nipple.

Her hips buck, and her jaw smacks open and shut.

Her eyes fly open and wildly, almost in terror, she looks at me.

“La…Lacchus…oh!” She curses, and I panic, surprised and elated when her heels dig into the mattress and her hips lift, her little precious clit pulsing against my knuckle with ferocity. She’s…is she…coming for me?