Chapter Nineteen
Abauna’s back arched as her release pounded through her body, a steady drum of pleasure battering her from the inside out until she was an explosion of sensation.
She had never felt a satisfaction like this. The pull and drag of her groom’s beastly cock in her channel. The constant tickle of the fur at his base bumping her clit with each furious thrust. The pleasure-glazed look in his eyes as he watched her intently. The connection between their hearts…
She had known it would begin painful, but she wasn’t scared. She’d wanted this badly, and she knew the reward would come after the searing pain of his entry. She just didn’t know it would be so perfect. So right. So… wonderful.
And now this. Something new was happening. Something she didn’t learn of in bridal training.
With a groan that rattled the walls, her groom found his release, shooting his spend deep. The hot jets flooding her and the constant growl in his throat sent her into a second spasm of relief.
But that wasn’t the strange thing.
She gasped, digging her fingers into the fur of his back as he swelled inside her. A pulsating ripple started at the engorged base, whipping its way to the tip, causing his cock to flick rhythmically against the top of her channel.
“Wh-what is that?”
Rolan had gone still, his eyes closed in pure bliss… while she squirmed beneath him, enduring a new luxurious assault.
“My cock is finishing,” he said, as if it was obvious. “It will take some time since I never want to leave you. It will retreat slower than it does with my hand.”
But before she could question him, the constant pulsing in one certain spot sent her into a new spiral of bliss. She cried out, waves of pleasure shattering her into pieces before she came back to herself, wholly changed.
Wholly his.
When she was able to breathe again, when his member ceased its pulsing and she was limp with innumerable releases, he rolled to the mattress, gathering her into his arms.
But he didn’t pull free of her, and… she found she didn’t want him to.
His purr was a steady trill in the back of his throat as he nuzzled a spot below her ear.
“You found relief many times, bride. Because of me.” Pride rang in his voice and she couldn’t help smiling.
“Many times,” she agreed.
“Never forget it.”
“How could I ever?”
He grew quiet, his lips occasionally pressing kisses to her neck.
“I have never been loved before,” he confessed against her skin. “It is far better than snuggling.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat, and she turned her eyes in time to see his lips curve into a smile that melted her soul.
“We can have both, you know?”
“I intend to.” His brow creased in thought. “How often can a female take a male? And what happens when your monthly blood comes?”
“Already planning for the future?”
He turned serious. “I must be prepared for these things, bride. A good husband prepares.”
“Of course. I will tell you all I know.”
“Good.”
“Yes, good.”
“When?”
She yawned, exhaustion taking her by surprise.
“After we’ve rested.”
Sighing, he gently tucked her head to his sternum. “I’ll endure the wait. Only for you, bride.”
Putting her first, again. Always.
“Speaking of that,” he whispered. “I wish to snuggle my cock in you while we sleep. Is that acceptable?”
“It is. And you may discover other things I’ll find acceptable if you look hard enough.”
“Will you give me hints?”
“A few,” she conceded.
Oh, he was perfect for her.
And she, for him.
Because she would always give him the respect he deserved… and the love he never knew existed.
The Ancients had gotten it right from the start, despite the workings of a cruel lord. What was meant for their demise had become their saving grace.
“I…” She felt, more than heard, his heavy swallow. “I have much love in my heart for you, female. I wish you to know it.”
“I do,” she promised. “I do.”
***
Rolan froze midstep along the path as a terrified shriek sliced through the air to reach his ears.
Days had passed, and even weeks, since he and Aubauna confessed their love, and every single one of those days he’d lived dread-free.
But that sound—the one of his frightened beloved—marked a new day.
One where fear tore him to shreds in the span of a single breath.
He’d been preparing the hot spring for a romantic bath with his bride, littering it with petals from blooms he’d collected. He was on his way back to the hut to whisk her away when the first scream resounded across the distance.
He was running for the hut before he could even register the second one.
But he was wholly unprepared for what he would find when he reached home.
In the clearing, stood a strange male. He wore no tunic, trousers only. Tall and broad and smooth, like any other man. Except upon his back, was a massive set of wings that spanned the length of two huts when outstretched as they were now. They were colored as a raven’s, black that shone as purple, and they flexed when he breathed.
Abauna stood before him, a rock fisted in her grip, ready to throw. But Rolan wasted no time getting between the stranger and his bride.
“Who are you?” he snarled, readying to do whatever necessary to protect his heart and home.
The stranger lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “I meant no harm, beast. I did not see the female when I chose this place to land, and she gave me no chance to announce myself.”
“Y-you surprised me,” Abauna snapped from behind Rolan.
“Who are you?” Rolan repeated. “Did the Empress send you?”
“I am Soren, from the city by the water. And I know not the Empress of which you speak.”
Rolan frowned. “There are no other cities aside from the Barbarian Hold. Just this land and beyond it, the Barren. I have looked.”
The stranger—Soren—raised an eyebrow.
“How far? It’s twenty days journey across the Barren, as you call it.” His gaze turned to Abauna. “And I doubt you’ve left your female for that long.”
Rolan stiffened, but the male was right.
He needed to learn more about him and his business in the Barren. And this city he claimed. If it was a viable place to get goods, Rolan needed to consider it. For a time would come when they would have needs he couldn’t find in the forest.
“I will speak with you,” Rolan told the winged man. “But you must leave my abode, and never return.” He wouldn’t have his bride at risk. “Meet me at the brook nearby, and I will learn of your reasons for trespassing.”
Soren gave him a single nod before crouching low to take flight. The flap of his wings as he leapt to the sky caused a great wind to sweep across the clearing, sending dust everywhere.
“The winged one is rude,” Abauna muttered, not seeming to care about the danger he might’ve posed.
Rolan turned to her. “Are you well? Did he harm you?”
“I am fine, groom. Like I said, he only surprised me. I likely harmed him though.” She winced with regret. “I threw a rock at his wings.”
“I saw no wound. Worry not.”
“Why do you suppose he’s here?”
Rolan considered it. “Perhaps he has been banished to the Barren as we were.”
“Perhaps.”
He drew her in to leave a kiss on her forehead. “Stay here. I will go see.”
When his bride was settled and safe behind the locked door of the hut, he made his way to the brook to meet with the winged stranger. He found Soren seated on a rock at the edge of the water, staring into it. He looked up when Rolan approached.
“I hope you will offer my apologies to your female,” he said, not bothering to stand. Perhaps he didn’t see Rolan as a threat even though he was twice his size and the wings looked fragile. Like they could be torn from his back with little effort.
Or perhaps he intended them no harm so he expected no trouble.
Rolan knew of no winged men so he had no one to compare him to.
He decided he’d choose to think the best of Soren. The same way Abauna did for him.
“I am Rolan of Vegoth. I live here with my bride, Abauna. We have made a home here in the nothing, and I will not see it put in danger.”
Soren’s expression eased, and Rolan only then realized the male had seemed worried.
“You will find no trouble from me, Rolan of Vegoth. I am only passing through. I landed here to collect water so I may continue on my journey, but your hut intrigued me.”
“Tell me of your home.” Rolan sat on the boulder across from him so they could be eye to eye.
“Beyond the Barren, where the sand turns white, is my city. It sits against the great water. It is called Magellan.”
“Is there an Empress? A court? Ancients?”
The male looked at him grimly. “There is famine and chaos. And yes, the ancient magic wielders. But don’t look so hopeful, beast.” His voice turned quiet. “Your kind is not well treated.”
His kind.
“There are others like me?”
The man nodded. “Furry ones, yes. Strong and once mighty. Once beloved even. By the magic wielders at least. But now they are despised for their ability to breed. They have done so with abandon, to the detriment of our society. And now many exist, but there is never enough to sustain us.”
The city by the water did not seem like a place he might want to bring his bride. Nor did it seem like a place that might have goods for them.
A shame.
“What is your business here in the Barren?”
“I am in search of a better place to abide. I have recently been given a wife to see to, and as I mentioned before…” Soren looked away into the water. Perhaps at the fish? “... there is little sustenance to be had in Magellan. I was on my way to the one by the rocks to see if we might be welcome there.”
By the rocks. The Barbarian Hold.
Rolan shook his head. “I come from there. You would likely be killed before you reached the gates.”
Soren blinked. “Killed? The people of your city are murderers?”
“Yes, some. The way of life there is brutal, and strangers are not tolerated. We are told that none exist beyond the walls. That the Barren is all there is, and the rest have died in war.”
“It is good fortune I happened upon you first then.” A look of dread passed across his narrow face. “I cringe to think what might’ve become of my female if I’d continued on.”
Rolan nodded in solemn agreement. “She would have missed you greatly, I presume. A great loss for her.”
Soren laughed wryly. “Miss me? No. I don’t think my Vega would miss me even for a breath of time. But I do believe she would miss the food I bring her. And the wood to make fire.”
Rolan frowned. “Do you treat her well?”
Soren looked offended. “Of course. Didn’t you hear me say I feed her and keep her warm? Even when it’s nearly impossible to do so. I never let her go without.”
“Then why does she not like you?”
He scowled, staring again into the water. “I do not know.”
“Do you bring her pretty things?” Rolan suggested.
“Pretty things? No.”
“Ah. You should try bringing her pretty things.”
Soren was silent for some time.
“I wouldn’t know what to choose. I’m not sure we have pretty things where I’m from. We have functional things. It isn’t like this place here, with all its green.”
“You have nothing pretty in your city?” Rolan asked, skeptical.
Soren looked away. “My wife is very pretty. Though… some don’t think so.”
“Does she look like mine?” If she looked like Abauna then Rolan would be able to tell him with certainty—
“No.” The winged man scowled in disgust. “She looks nothing like yours.”
Well, then. Perhaps the people were right about his wife.
But if Rolan had learned anything from his time in the Barren, it was that love could bloom out of the ugliest situations, given enough time… and understanding.
“Perhaps you should bring her here.”
Soren eyed him warily. “To your home?”
“No, you are not welcome to stay at my dwelling.” Rolan hated the idea of sharing their home with others. It was theirs. And contained their special memories. “It is for me and my bride only. But you could bring your wife here to live in the Barren. There are other abandoned abodes. You can find one for yourself. And there is plenty of sustenance to be gathered here.”
Soren lifted an eyebrow. “Indeed?”
“I have never struggled to find food here.” Rolan gestured to the brook. “You should take a fish before you go. Have many, in fact. Return to your bride with a treat.”
“I will consider it, beast. You have given me much to think about.”
They parted ways soon after, and Rolan returned home to his bride, his thoughts heavy with the information the winged man imparted. Another city existed, overrun with people and beasts. With inadequate food to sustain them.
Nothing good could come of a situation like that.
He had never been so grateful for this secret place he’d discovered with his bride. For the banishment that led them here.
Trudging up the bank, he bypassed the hot springs and headed for the hut. Abauna met him at the door, her expression curious.
“Has our stranger gone?”
He pulled her into his arms, curving his palm around her soft cheek. “Our stranger?”
She gave him a coy grin. “You know well what I mean. Besides, what have you to be jealous of, beast? I only look for you upon waking.”
“And only I can make your body release so many times you lose sense. Only I do that.”
“Mmm,” she hummed as he kissed her deep.
“Come, bride. Let us bathe so I can have you the way I want you.”
As they walked hand in hand, he posed a question.
“Bride, what is your flower called?”
She laughed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, my sex is also called a cock. Or by other names. Prick. Meat, dic—”
“Meat?” She shook her head. “We will not be calling it meat.”
He turned, gently trapping her against a rock so his hand could slip under the tunic and cup her. “But by what other names does this sweet flower go by?”
She moved against him, just barely, but he noticed.
“Well, some people used to call it… a pussy.”
He frowned. “Odd name for something so wonderful.”
“Also, a cunt.”
“Cunt.” He liked that one. “Tonight, I will eat your cunt, pretty wife, and then I will have use of it at my leisure.”
Her smile was slow and seductive, anticipation glinting in her eyes.
“Do you plan on keeping me up all night again?”
“If that’s how long it takes to quench you, yes.”
He rubbed her gently, his thumb bumping against that pearl at the top to make her moan. It was a magical button, and he loved being the master of it, using it to make her squirm and call his name.
“I fear it will take a lifetime to quench me.”
“Very well,” he said, nipping at her jaw. “But we will have to take it one day at a time.”
“That sounds fine to me, dear groom. Better than fine. It sounds like a vow.”
“One I will keep always.”
“Until death parts us,” she agreed.
And he kissed the promise from her lips, knowing now that no matter what hate existed in the world—for him, for her, for the societies among them—love, pure and steady, would always win in the end.
********