Caution: Explicit Content Below!!

Elian;

"Ahh!!" I scream, and I feel him fill me up, but he doesn’t move.

"Fuck!" He breathes, and I gulp.

"Are... are you okay?" His raspy voice breathes against my face, and I struggle to nod.

"Just... just give me a second." I breathe in response, and when I open my eyes, I see pure lust burning furiously in his eyes.

"Can I move?" He whispers, and I nod.

"Slowly..." I whimper, and shivers rush through me as he slowly pulls out of me, but not completely.

I feel all my nerve endings spark mind-meltingly as he slowly shoves himself back into me.

My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and I sling my arms over his neck as my back arches off the bed completely.

I bury my face in his shoulder as he starts moving with deliberately slow motions.

"Fuck! You feel so good!!" He groans, and I begin to tremble as every thrust hits something deep and starving inside me.

Instinctively, my legs wrap tighter around his waist, pulling him closer and forcing him deeper.

My mind goes blank as I bite his shoulder to stop the moan about to rip out of me.

"Am I being too rough?" He asks amidst thrust. And I pull back to look at him.

I smile when I see the sweat dripping down his jaw, and I reach up with not though in mine.

I run my tongue across his cheek, licking off his sweat, and he shudders.

My tongue finds his lips, and I pull him closer as I lock my lips with his. I suck on each delectible lip passionately as I feel him continuously slide in and out of me with that maddeningly slow pace.

I pull back panting, and our warm breaths mingle as our foreheads touch.

"To be honest... You’re being too slow, Alpha." I breathe, and his thrusts flutter for a second.

"You Omega is craving you... This isn’t all you intend to give him... right?" I add, and I watch something shift in his eyes as he looks at me.

Something dark, hungry, and consuming that tells me I’m about to get exactly what I asked for...

********

Zethar;

I wipe sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand as I steady myself.

My sword crashes against the soldier’s blade with so much force that it makes his arms tremble.

I see it clearly. The way his stance falters. The way his grip tightens desperately around the hilt of his sword, like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.

He is good at combat.

Better than most.

But today I am not interested in good.

I just want something to break.

The soldier lunges. His green scales catch the light as his blade arcs toward my shoulder. I twist, deflecting the strike neatly before driving my elbow into his ribs.

He grunts as he buckles over, but the sound barely registers in my mind.

"Again," I order flatly, and the young soldier looks up at me with horror in his eyes.

He hesitates... Just for a moment, but he knows better than to disobey.

I step forward, not caring if he’s ready or not, as I lift my blade.

Steel collides again.

He blocks, but the impact knocks him back two steps across the sand. His boots drag lines through the dirt, and I stop because I know ifIi strike now that he’s open, I’d kill him.

The training yard has gone quiet.

Soldiers standing along the edges have stopped speaking. I can feel their eyes on us...

On me.

They all know.

They may not know why, but they know something is wrong. They know I am after something that will break them before I find it.

My opponent tries again. He swings lower this time, aiming for my thigh. A mistake.

I leap away from him, hook my blade beneath his, and slam my shoulder into his chest.

He stumbles.

Before he can recover, my sword presses against his throat.

His breathing is ragged as he looks up at me, but mine is perfectly steady.

"Again," I order as I pull my sword away, and the soldier swallows.

"My prince... perhaps we should—" He begins, but I cut him off.

"No." The word cuts through the yard like a blade.

He rises and lifts his sword again. Steel meets steel, and this time, I do not hold back.

My strikes come faster. Harder.

With each swing heavier than the last.

He blocks four. But the fifth strike sends his blade rolling across the sand.

My fifth strike slashes his shoulder. He cries out.

The strike is not deep enough to cripple him, but it’s deep enough for blood to soak through the fabric of his training uniform.

Fresh silence falls across the yard, and before I can make another move, a voice stops me.

"Zethar."

The voice is calm. Familiar, and utterly unimpressed.

I pause. Slowly, I turn my head and find Aunt Queen standing at the edge of the training field, with her arms folded behind her.

Her golden eyes move from the wounded soldier... to me, and then she sighs.

"If you intend to spar like that," she says mildly, "then perhaps you should choose an opponent capable of surviving it." She adds, and I stand straighter to look at her.

The soldier beside me drops to one knee, breathing hard, but I do not react.

Selthía steps forward, with her dress dragging across the sand as she approaches.

"You know very well that there are only two people in this kingdom who can match you when you are like this." She says slowly as her gaze lifts to mine.

"And that poor boy is not one of them." She says, stepping between the soldier and me.

The soldier looks grateful enough to cry when she gestures toward the exit.

"Go," she tells him.

He does not hesitate, not wait for my approval.

He simply stumbles away from the yard with a limp, clutching his wounded shoulder.

Just then, Aunt Selthía reaches down and picks up the sword he left behind.

Then, with elegant efficiency, she gathers the fabric of her long dress and ties it at her waist.

She tosses the sword playfully as she steps away from me.

"If you really want to vent... now is the time," she says with a smile, and I grit my teeth in annoyance.