Epilogue #3
He licked a single stripe from her entrance to that quivering peak, savoring the taste with a deep, guttural groan. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails scoring him as she undulated against his mouth.
He chuckled darkly against her skin. Still so greedy for me.
He suckled her gently, then flicked his tongue twirling the rim of her entrance. Her thighs shook. His name slipped from her lips in gasps and moans.
“Rune… Rune, please—”
“I am pleasing you,” he growled, then dove his tongue into her and she arched with a cry.
He summoned a shadow-self to kneel behind her. It gripped her waist as Rune parted her further, so that shadowed tongue could please her on the other end.
They feasted like it was the last rite of a dying god.
Like her pleasure could rewrite creation.
He alternated rhythm, speed, pressure—chasing the way she shuddered, the way her cries grew sharper, needier. His forked tongue thrust into her, drinking in every drop of his obsession.
Alora’s fingers grasped his horns, his hair, hips rocking wildly into his mouth. He groaned against her, loving her loss of control. The shadows around them danced with her pleasure, pulsing with each moan as she spilled down her thighs.
“Don’t stop,” she begged. “Please, don’t stop—”
When would he ever?
He closed his lips around her clit, and she burst with a cry so loud it echoed off the stone walls. Her legs buckled and he caught her trembling body.
“You taste like the sweetest sin,” he rumbled. “I will never have enough of you at my mercy.”
Alora’s eyes burned with white fire.
Before Rune could react, her shadows drew him back, pinning him to the chase sofa beside the bed. She strode toward him with the sway of a predator.
“Then perhaps I should have my way with you tonight.”
She placed the tip of her bare foot against his knee, nudging them apart. He inhaled sharply as Alora sank to her knees in front of him. Her shadows coiled around his ankles, then more shadows pinned his hands above his head.
“No touching,” she crooned, tearing his trousers open in her claws.
Rune was rock hard, throbbing as her breath fanned over him. He watched, with rapt attention as her red lips pressed a kiss to one.
Already leaking, darling? Alora teased as her tongue darted out to lick away the bead of cum.
“Alora,” he growled, his chest heaving.
She laughed and he shuddered as one of her hands stroked both shafts, her small fingers hardly able wrap around him, teasing the ridges. His breathing sharpened his cocks twitching. Then her pink tongue licked the glowing magma paths from base to tip.
Rune breathed out a curse, his head falling back. “Fuck, I love your mouth.”
She grinned and slipped her lips over the first head. I know.
Watching her head bob over him, taking him into her pretty mouth, it was enough to nearly finish him. Her lips pulled away with a pop and she stood.
“Oh no, not yet, my king. I will decide when you come tonight.”
He laughed, breathless and shocked. “Naughty thing.”
Alora stood before him, holding his stare as she undid the gold laces of her dress and let the red fabric pool at her feet. His tail coiled tightly, his throat going dry.
When he tried to stand, her shadows tightened on him, enough to sting. He hissed, feeling himself grow impossibly harder. There was a glint in her eye that made something deep and primal pace inside of him.
Her body glowed like honey in the dark as she straddled his thighs.
Her soft cunt hovered above him, lowering enough to plague him with her warmth.
She slowly ran her fingers slowly along the underside of his tail and his composure fractured.
Rune bucked with a strangled groan, his chest heaving, hands fisting.
“I must confess,” Alora murmured, licking his lips with the same agonizing motion of her folds stroking the tip of him. Barely enough to tease, but not nearly enough to fulfill. He panted, feral and desperate. “I do enjoy torturing you.”
“Alora,” he growled, straining. “Release me. I need to be inside of you. Now.”
She laughed. “Do you? But I am not done toying with you yet.”
Reaching down, she held him against her slick core, sliding her body along his lengths with agonizing torment.
Rune writhed in his growing madness. “I can only take so much, woman.”
She licked the pulsing markings on his chest. “Or is it that you resist giving up so much control?”
Her fingers tangled in his hair at the base of his neck, tight enough to make him hiss.
“You’re trembling,” Alora murmured, almost pitying. She took his chin, tipping his head back until he was forced to meet her gaze. “Look at you,” she hummed, voice dripping with something wicked. “The great God of Shadows, at my mercy.”
Rune’s lips parted in a silent snarl. Careful, love.
Her answering smile was sin incarnate. Then she took him in her hands, positioning both rigid lengths against her soft warmth. The growl that rumbled in his throat was pure animalistic.
“Both at once?” Rune chuckled darkly. “Can you take that much of me, songbird?”
“Was it not you who said, there is nothing I cannot do?”
And when Alora lowered herself onto him—slow, purposeful, a mere inch, while never breaking eye contact—Rune shuddered.
A low, excoriating curse tore from his throat.
The fit, it was so fucking tight, he was gasping.
He strained against his restraints, wanting to grab her, to dive into her, but her power shoved him back with a strength born of desire and seduction reclaimed.
“Not yet.” She nipped his jaw. “You will touch me when I allow it.”
Then she sank down another blessed inch with a soft whimper.
Rune heaved for air, blessed and broken in the same breath. “Release me!”
“Then beg,” she said softly against his lips.
Rune’s breath grew ragged; mouth parted with the craving to devour her. The need was hollowing him out from the inside. His jaw clenched so tight it ached, muscles trembling beneath the hold of her shadows.
He was not used to being helpless. He was used to commanding armies with a glance. But beneath her, he was unraveling.
“Alora—” he cut off in a moan when her walls deliciously gripped him.
She hummed. “Yes?”
He bucked, helpless, furious, and desperate. “Let me touch you. Let me worship you.”
Rune was thrumming now, chest heaving. He never wanted anything more than to take her hard and fast.
Her smile was cruel yet tender. She leaned in, angling deeper.
“Fuck,” he groaned in surrender. “You own every part of me, woman. I am begging you.”
Alora tilted her head, studying him like a conqueror admiring a fallen king. “I do, don’t I?” she whispered.
Completely.
And then she moved. The Abyss nearly took him.
Her heat descending over him with devastating slowness. Rune’s body jolted against the bindings, and he sank deeper with a roll of her hips so sinful his head fell back, the veins in his neck straining.
He wanted to move but her shadows pinned him harder.
“Stay,” she commanded and the imprint on his throat blazed.
Rune obeyed. He would have burned worlds if she asked. He would have torn stars from the sky.
Alora rode him, slow and merciless. Rune shook from how hard his body fought every instinct not to consume her whole.
“So obedient,” she crooned, stoking a claw along the soft base of his tail. “Good boy.”
The sensation sent a shockwave straight through his spine.
And his restraint snapped.
He tore through the shadow bindings with a snarl.
He surged forward, flipping her onto her stomach in a blur of movement as they landed on the bed.
His hands were everywhere, gripping, lifting, pinning her arms above her head.
He hooked her thigh over his hip, grinding into her so deep she gasped, head thrown back.
“You wanted me feral,” he snarled into her neck, biting down. Now you have it.
Both cocks plunged into her, deep, brutal, and relentless. Alora responded with a cry that was part laugh and part sob. Her claws dug into his arms.
Once her body adjusted to him, he plowed into her. Each thrust was punishment. Each moan from her lip’s redemption. Her core was pulsing and throbbing, gushing with every invading stroke.
He would hear her beg tonight.
Taking her wrists, he hauled her up as he summoned his shadow-self to lay beneath her, hard and ready.
She softly gasped, sensing what he planned.
Rune pulled out and helped to her position herself to take the shadow into her body, bending her over it until he pressed both heads against that tight, rear little hole.
Alora gulped for air, her body shuddering. “Oh gods—”
“No,” he growled, voice feral against her spine. “You worship only one god, Alora. You know his name.”
“Rune—” she cried as he and his shadow-self pressed into her, her moan bordering on a sob. “I—I can’t—”
Yes, you can. His mouth took hers, demanding entry. Take it. All of it.
Rune waited until she inhaled a breath, then Alora writhed as he slowly pushed into her body. Shadows and magic soothed the sting as that pink little entry gave beneath him, stretching open to welcome both of his lengths with ease.
The sensation was otherworldly.
Rune was lost to it, murmuring fevered declarations on her damp skin, like it was the last tether holding him to this realm. She whimpered and shook, helpless against his hold.
Then he and his shadow-self moved.
Alora convulsed between them. He plowed into her, relishing in the sight of her body yielding to him as they fed on pure ecstasy. Her sweet cries were a song, a crescendo that carried them to another plane as they broke against the tide of pleasure.
Alora fell apart in his hands and shadows.
Rune’s world lit with her. He drank in the sight of her shaking, soaked in her cries, and let the bond sear every flicker of her pleasure into his soul as he spilled into her with a roar.