Page 109 of Feast of Sparks (Thornchapel 2)
This is power. Power that comes not even from strength—though every carved muscle in his arms and chest and stomach is sweat-sheened and poised to strike, though I can feel his firm thighs tightening and readying against mine.
No, the power is coming from him, from inside him, from whatever wild and thorny heart beats in his chest, from whatever thoughts are flickering behind those forest eyes. This is not only my Auden, already a king with kissable feet and a knack for tying knots, but something old and young and holy and earthy all at once.
This is my wild god and he’s about to devour me.
With a noise, I try to twist away, not because I don’t want to be devoured but because I’ve surrendered myself wholly to the inevitability of being devoured and all that’s left of me is instinct.
And instinct is saying, he will take you, he will eat your heart.
The god’s eyes darken at my attempt to get free. And before I’ve even managed to sit up, I’m tackled back to the platform, his body heavy and unrelenting over mine. He noses over my throat while one of his hands is down at his jeans, shoving them farther down his hips. When I try to wriggle free again, I see the hewn, sun-kissed muscles of his back sloping down to his narrow hips and then beyond them, the hard swells of his ass, so firm that shadows gather in the hollows at the sides of his cheeks.
He pins me down again, his shoulders and arms like steel bars, big and immovable, and as we struggle, I feel the broad tip of his erection against my thigh. My body doesn’t know what to do, what to feel—surrender, it whispers at the same time it also chants flee, flee, there’s no mercy here, not from him.
His hips shove forward again as he growls down at me, all primal fury that his sacrifice is trying to escape. There’s the flash of dancing fire reflected in his eyes, the white edge of his teeth as he growls again, and then the hot press of his crown against my opening. I gasp as he pushes forward, gasp again as my soft, wet flesh yields to him, and I realize exactly how wet I am. How swollen and ready to be fucked.
“Please,” I breathe up at him, not even sure what I mean, because it definitely isn’t please, stop. It’s more like make me surrender. Make me yours.
One eye is orange and glittering with reflected firelight and the other eye is black with creeping forest shadows as he looks down at me. “You’ve always been mine,” the god says simply.
What can I say but yes?
I’ve always been his.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.”
The god takes my lips with a hard kiss, as if to stop me from ever trying to take it back. He keeps his weight on me—hands on my wrists, chest to chest as his hips give a powerful thrust, and I’m impaled on his arousal.
He hisses as he pulls back, as if my cunt is almost too good, and I feel the cool air kissing the wetness along my folds. When my May King finally penetrates me fully and buries himself inside me, every inflamed inch of my body sings to vivid and ecstatic life. Not because he’s inside me, although it hurts so good I think I might come just from being filled in this way, but because he’s taking me. It wouldn’t matter how he took me—if he used my mouth or my hand or spread me wide and ate my cunt until I screamed—it’s the taking that matters, it’s the claiming and the possession and the undeniable brand he’s carving onto my heart.
He held back before. For me, for Saint. For the three of us.
He’s holding back no longer.
His massive cock slides free and then slams in again with a thrust that has us both grunting, and then the god is pumping into me in earnest, his hips moving fast and faster as the drums around us beat madly. I can hear the others around the fire singing and laughing, and surely there’s no way they don’t know, but also of course they know, it’s what we’re here for. And when I look over and see Saint and Becket kissing while Delphine whoops and dances around them, I know they’ll be joining us soon.
The thought of having even more hands and mouths to play with has me purring underneath the toiling god, and the sound seems to drive him to some new, insatiable hunger, because he ducks his head down to kiss my breast as one of his hands searches out my waist, my hip, my ass. He squeezes a cheek with a giant hand, using it to angle my cunt better to his liking, to open my hips so he can fuck me with hard, filthy strokes.
There’s no part of my body that isn’t his right now, there’s no secret place left, no curve or hollow or hole that doesn’t belong to him and his hunger. He sucks on my nipple as he gives me short, grinding thrusts that have my clit plumping and begging for more. He plays with the rosette between my cheeks as he rams into me. He kisses me like I was born to pay him a tribute in kisses. He buries his nose in my hair and breathes me in, he smells along the column of my throat. He sneaks a hand between our slick bellies to toy with my clit, he palms and kneads my breasts with undisguised lust.
There’s no way to claim him as much as he’s claiming me, not with him fucking me into the ground, but I do my goddamn best. This isn’t club-style submission, this isn’t a scene. This is a rite, this is a feast, and I feast on him as much as I can. I bite at his chest, just enough to feel the firm, barely yielding muscle against my lips. I lick at his throat and suck his fingertips into my mouth until he’s frenzied and half-roaring with pleasure. I nuzzle against his bicep, and when my hands are free, I scratch at his back and clutch at the narrow hips and powerful ass currently surging between my thighs.
Everything has disappeared now, the rules, the history, even Dominant and submissive. Even Auden and Poe. There’s only god and bride, stag and goddess. King and priestess.
“I’m—I’m—”
The words are snatched away by the drums and the shouts of the others, but they’re unnecessary anyway, because the god already knows. My surrender was never in doubt, was always part of the bargain, and I know that he would have wrung it from me by any means necessary if his ferocious fucking hadn’t done it. But it has, and I think ferocious fucking is the only kind of fucking I ever want again, with each driving thrust slamming the breath right out of me, with his hands digging into the flesh of my ass and tilting me up so that my clit gets stroked by muscle and cock with every thrust. With his kisses so wild and hard that we have to breathe together to survive them and sometimes I’m not even sure we’ll survive them because we’d rather kiss than breathe—
The god fucks me and I come.
I come with a worshipful wail, with tears, because each pulse and clench of my body, each wave of brutal pleasure, belongs to him. I am his, his own, and it’s inevitable that I would surrender everything to him, even the things that should belong to a lover and not a god. They belong to this god, because he demands everything.
The wet, holy agony of coming on the wild god’s cock has me writhing, breathless, dying, and then he surges forward a final time, going absolutely still as his organ swells bigger and harder. And then with low, ragged noise, he ruts into me so hard that I scream, riding me through his peak with vicious thrusts that send me over the edge once again. Hot, wet seed erupts inside my climaxing cunt, and I have the distant thought that he’s not wearing a condom, that he’s just come in me bare, and it’s so filthy and so wrong and so fucking raw to feel his release like this, that I think I might come forever just thinking about it.
“You,” he growls, still spending inside me with heavy, hard throbs, “are mine.”
I clutch his straining shoulders and look up at him, his eyes hooded and his jaw tight with male pleasure. His hair is back down over his forehead, and the firelight lovingly bathes his long nose, his high cheeks with light. It shows off the small, barely there scar under one eye and the firm, finely chiseled mouth—finely chiseled save for the one hitch in his upper lip. His body is etched in sharp, reddish relief, every muscle clenched as he spills inside me, and all I can think is this is magic. This is love.
“I love you,” I breathe up at him, making his eyes hood even more. “I love you.”
