Seven #3
The thought settles heavily in my chest, because that’s what gets me in the end. Not the size of him. Not the mystery. Not even the bond. It’s the way he looks at me—as though I’m the answer to a question he stopped asking long ago.
The emotion catches me off guard.
Slowly, I move closer and settle beside him, letting my fingertips trace one of the glowing markings across his stomach. Beneath my touch, he stills completely.
The reaction makes me smile.
“You know,” I murmur, “for someone so terrifying, you’re remarkably easy to distract.”
I don’t give him the chance to respond. My fingers continue lower until they settle at the root of his cock.
Fuck. He’s big. A good eight inches at least, thick enough that I know I’m going to feel every inch of him when I finally take him. The thought alone sends heat spiralling through me. Hell, just imagining the stretch has me questioning how a human cock ever managed to satisfy me.
One thing I’m certain of is that I can take him.
As for the four ridges lining his shaft....
My body clenches in anticipation. I need to know how they feel. Need to experience the pleasure I already know I’m going to lose myself to. Preferably in the next few minutes—if I can stop staring at his monster cock long enough to actually do something about it.
His cock is the colour of midnight, smooth and thick, with a small slit at the tip that immediately captures my attention.
I could claim scientific curiosity.
I’d be lying through my teeth.
This is pure self-interest. I want to know everything about him. Whether he responds like a human male. Whether he’ll fill me so completely that getting dressed afterwards becomes an exercise in optimism.
With trembling fingers, I brush the slit.
Maelor’s reaction is immediate.
A silver pearl of fluid beads at the tip, and the ridges I’ve been obsessing over flutter. Actually flutter.
My brain short-circuits.
Somewhere, someone probably spent a fortune designing the perfect monster dildo.
They failed.
Because this exists.
And this one belongs to a male made of flesh, shadows, and every fantasy I never knew I had.
A Hendroy.
My Hendroy.
The deep, needy growl that tears from Maelor’s chest finally drags my attention back to his face.
I catch my bottom lip between my teeth.
The desperation in his expression is impossible to miss.
Not because I recognise it in him, but because I recognise it in myself.
I feel it everywhere—in my veins, my heartbeat, the ache low in my body.
And I’m woman enough to admit exactly where that ache is centred, right in my pussy, which honestly, is not in need of any foreplay at all.
I’m so ridiculously overwhelmed by him that I’m not entirely convinced higher brain function is still online. Every instinct I possess seems focused on a single objective: getting closer. Which is frankly impressive, considering we’re already occupying the same patch of air.
The way Maelor is looking at me leaves absolutely no doubt that he wants me. And if that gaze is any indication, he’s one heartbeat away from deciding restraint is overrated.
And so am I.
The only problem is that kissing him properly from down here is practically impossible. The male is absurdly tall, all broad shoulders and impossible reach, and right now I’m craning my neck just to keep hold of his gaze.
His antlers only make the picture more ridiculous.
They sweep back from his head in elegant black arcs, branching into sharp, shadow-dark points that should make him look dangerous.
Instead, framed by the silver glow of his markings and the naked wonder in his expression, they’re breathtaking. Wild. Otherworldly. Entirely him.
My Hendroy.
We move together—his hands finding my hips and tugging me on top of him while I’m scrambling to straddle him and sink down.
The moment I settle against him, cock at my entrance, gripping him firmly, a rough sound escapes his throat, and his eyes close briefly as though the simple contact is almost too much.
“Iris.” My name leaves his mouth like a prayer.
The intensity of it steals my breath.
His hands tighten fractionally on my hips, not enough to hold me in place, just enough to remind me they’re there. Remind me that this male could overpower me without effort and is instead choosing restraint.
Choosing me.
“You keep looking at me like that,” I murmur.
His eyes open. “Like what?”
“Like I’m about to vanish.”
Something fierce flashes across his face. “You will not.”
The certainty in his voice sends a shiver through me. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.” The single word emerges as a growl.
Mine. The sentiment sits unspoken beneath it as I lower onto him slowly, carefully, so deliciously.
We both gasp, and my legs shake. His grip turns firm, taking some of my weight, and I smile before begging, “More, Maelor. I can take it. All of you.”
Another inch as he tugs me down and my groan is loud, the neediness matching his growl.
“More.” Frustration blooms. Fuck careful. Fuck slow. I want all of him. Need him with a fierceness that threatens to steal my breath. “Maelor, more. Fuck me.”
And he does.
He trusts up, his cock settling deep inside me so we’re flush. I’m so full, so—I gasp at the sensation when my walls contract at the movement inside me.
“Holy fuck.” His ridges undulate with firm waves. Heat shoots through my system. My skin flushes, my pussy clenches, and awareness of Maelor, of the Hendroy before me, overrides everything.
And then he lifts me up and fucks into me. Again and again. His firm hands keep me from falling, and all I can do is grip his forearms and hold on for the ride as he drives into me with sure, steady hips.
Each movement is controlled, each flex devastating in the best way. “You are mine.” Maelor’s tone is steady as fuck, impressively so since I’m moments away from spiralling and leaving my body.
His “Say it” takes me by surprise, but I clench my walls around him, knowing truly what the words he is after are.
“You are mine,” I manage, nowhere near the same level of control as his tone, but fuck if I don’t mean the words just as much.
I throw my head back as pleasure spikes low in my belly. “Fuck.” I’m so close to detonating.
A deep groan escapes Maelor, dragging my attention back to him. His red eyes are fixed on mine, the intensity there my undoing.
With a roar, he buries himself deeper, stretching me so wide and perfectly as he increases his speed. It’s all too much… too perfect… too—
I arch my back as “Ohfuckmefuckfuckfuck” spills out of my mouth, frantic as I writhe on top of him.
“That’s it, Iris. Give it to me.”
The world splinters. My walls tighten, milking him, eager to draw out his cum as I release a strangled cry and an orgasm tears through me with such ferocity that tears spring to my eyes. I’m high, floating, as he rocks into me once more, his own cry breaking free.
His cock swells and pulses, and I feel it, his release, the force of his seed as it fills me up, lines my walls and… fuck. Another orgasm rips through me. There’s no holding back the scream of ecstasy as it rips from my lungs.
My limbs are weak, every nerve ending sensitive as I shiver and shake. My eyes are closed, and honestly, I don’t have the energy to open them, even as I feel Maelor lift me to release himself. Even as he settles me higher against his chest and presses his full lips to mine.
He kisses me slowly, reverently, before burying his face against my neck and inhaling deeply.
Satisfaction rolls through him.
Or maybe it’s me.
Honestly, I can’t tell where I end and he begins anymore.
All I know is I’ve never felt this content. This right. This... complete.
“Maelor,” I whisper as his large arms wrap around me.
Something soft settles over my skin.
Curiosity finally wins.
When I force my eyes open, shadows surround us. Not the frightening darkness I first encountered in the forest, but something gentler. Softer. They curl around us like a blanket, shielding us from the mountain breeze and the chill creeping in with the fading light.
His shadows.
They’re purring.
The ridiculous thought makes me laugh. Actually laugh.
The sound earns a low rumble from Maelor’s chest. “What?”
I smile and snuggle closer. “Your shadows.”
He glances down. “They are content.”
The answer is so matter of fact that another laugh escapes me.
Of course it is. Of course his sentient shadow blanket is content.
The bond hums warmly beneath my ribs, and suddenly I realise the ache that’s followed me since arriving in Terrafeara is gone.
Not the physical aches. The other one.
The loneliness.
The uncertainty.
The feeling of being untethered.
Gone.
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Maelor?”
“Yes, Iris.”
I tilt my head back enough to meet those impossible red eyes. “I love this world.”
Surprise flashes across his face, then something softer. “You do?”
I glance towards the valley beyond the cave, towards the silver-blue grasses dancing beneath the green sky, towards the mountains standing silent watch over a land stitched together from a thousand others.
Then I look back at him. “No.”
A frown appears.
I smile. “I love my Hendroy.”
The expression that follows is worth every terrifying, impossible, ridiculous thing that’s happened since arriving here.
His shadows ripple around us. The bond glows warmly between us. And tucked safely in the arms of the monster who was brought across worlds just to find me, I finally understand something important.
Maybe the lightning didn’t bring me to Terrafeara.
Maybe it brought me home.