Page 60 of Dragon's Captive

"Yes," I breathe, my own fingers working at the fastenings of his garments with eager impatience that draws another rumbling laugh from his chest.

He lifts me with effortless strength, carrying me to our bed where he lays me with surprising gentleness given the hunger evident in his golden eyes. His massive form hovers above me, wings spreading to create canopy of living shadow as scales shift with colors too subtle for human eyes to properly distinguish but that my adapted vision now recognizes as desire, pleasure, possession.

"Beautiful," he says, clawed hands skimming reverently over my body as I lie naked before him. "More perfect with each transformation."

His touch leaves trails of heat across my skin, exploring with devastating thoroughness as if memorizing territory already mapped countless times before. When his fingers find the wetness gathering between my thighs, evidence of omega arousal I no longer try to hide, his satisfaction rumbles through the chamber like distant thunder.

"So responsive," he praises, scaled digits circling my entrance with careful precision that makes my back arch involuntarily. "So perfectly made for me."

"For us," I correct, gasping as one clawed finger slides inside with practiced ease, finding the spot that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. "Made for each other."

His smile is predatory, triumphant, yet carries warmth that transforms it from threatening to breathtaking. "Yes," he agrees, lowering his massive form between my spread thighs, "for us."

The first touch of his tongue against my center tears a cry from my throat that echoes off stone walls. Draconic anatomy grants advantages human lovers could never match—higher temperature that turns each lick into exquisite burn, slightly rougher texture that creates friction against sensitized flesh, unnatural control that allows him to apply perfect pressure without pause for breath human physiology would require.

"Kairyx," I gasp, hands tangling in the scales along his skull, hips rising to meet each devastating stroke. "Please?—"

"Tell me what you need," he commands, golden eyes watching my reactions with predatory focus that catalogs every gasp, every shudder, every involuntary clench of inner muscles around his exploring fingers. "I want to hear you say it."

"Your mouth," I manage, heat flooding my face at the words but beyond caring about such trivial concerns as embarrassment. "Don't stop. Please don't stop."

His rumble of approval vibrates against my core, the sensation sending fresh waves of pleasure spiraling through my system. His tongue works with increasing intensity, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves before flicking across it with precision that speaks to intimate knowledge of exactly how I respond to different pressures, different rhythms.

When he adds second finger alongside the first, the stretch burns exquisitely, my inner walls clenching around the invasion with eager welcome. The dual sensations—his mouth working my clit while his fingers curl inside me—push me rapidly toward edge I'm increasingly desperate to fall over.

"That's it," he praises, words vibrating against sensitized flesh. "Let me feel you come apart. Show me how perfectly you respond to your alpha."

The combination of physical stimulation and verbal dominance shatters my control completely. The orgasm crashes through me with devastating force, inner walls pulsing around his fingers as pleasure whites out conscious thought. My cry echoes off stone walls, back arching off the bed as waves of sensation roll through me with intensity that borders on too much, too good, too everything.

Before I can recover, he's moving up my body, his massive form positioning between my spread thighs with practiced ease. His dual lengths emerge fully from their scaled sheath, ridged surfaces radiating heat I can feel even without direct contact. The sight still inspires momentary awe—twin shafts that would be physically impossible for unmodified human to accommodate but that my adapted body now welcomes with eager slick.

"Look at me," he commands, golden eyes holding mine as the twin heads press against my entrance. "Watch as I claim what's mine."

I obey without hesitation, gaze locked with his as he begins the inexorable push forward. The stretch burns despite my body's eager preparation, the dual intrusion creating fullness beyond anything human anatomy could provide. Each ridge along both lengths drags against inner walls with devastating friction that sends aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my still-sensitive flesh.

When he seats himself fully, both shafts buried to the hilt, the sensation of absolute fullness steals my breath completely. For moment we remain perfectly still, locked together in physical connection that mirrors the deeper bond formed through blood and fire and shared offspring.

"Perfect," he growls, scales darkening with pleasure as my inner walls adjust around him. "Taking both my cocks so beautifully. Made for this. Made for me."

His praise shouldn't affect me the way it does, but each word sends another rush of slick coating his invasion, inner walls rippling with pleasure that draws answering growl from his chest.

"Move," I gasp, hands clutching at his shoulders in wordless plea. "Please, Kairyx?—"

He requires no further encouragement. His first thrust drives deep, angle perfectly calibrated to hit the spot inside that makes coherent thought impossible. The rhythm he establishes speaks to intimate knowledge of exactly how I respond to different pressures, different paces—not punishing but inexorable, each drive of his hips sending dual ridged lengths dragging against sensitized flesh with precision that borders on torture.

"Mine," he growls against my throat, words punctuated by increasingly powerful thrusts that shift my entire body up the bed. "My mate. My omega. Carrying my seed. Bred by my cocks."

"Yours," I agree without hesitation or artifice, the declaration drawing fresh surge of possessive pleasure through our bloodlink. "As you are mine."

His rhythm falters momentarily at my response, something vulnerable flashing across features not designed for human emotional display. Then he redoubles his efforts, pace increasing as one clawed hand slips between our bodies to find my clit with unerring accuracy.

"Come for me again," he commands, circling the sensitive bundle with perfect pressure. "I want to feel you squeeze my cocks as I fill you with my seed. Want to feel your body welcome what will nourish our growing offspring."

The combination of physical stimulation, possessive words, and mental image of his burning seed filling my alreadypregnant womb pushes me over the edge again. The second orgasm hits with even greater force than the first, tearing another cry from my throat as pleasure whites out conscious thought. My inner walls clench rhythmically around his dual invasion, milking his response with biological efficiency evolved specifically for this purpose.

The sensation triggers his own release. I feel it first as additional heat at my core, his twin shafts expanding further inside me as the bases begin to swell. The knots forming at the root of both cocks stretch my entrance to point where pleasure edges into pain, the burn exquisite as my body yields to accommodate what should be physically impossible.

"Take my knot," he growls, hips grinding against mine as the swelling increases. "Take all of it. Perfect omega. Perfect mate."

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