Chapter 48 #2
My heart stutters at the admission, the vulnerability of it hanging between us.
He searches my eyes, as if he’s looking for any shadow of doubt, but all I see reflected back is that same fierce certainty, the kind that makes my chest ache with how right it feels.
His fire softens around us, the magical restraints loosening into something gentler, more like an embrace, while my shadows weave through it, creating this perfect, pulsing blend that seems to mirror the way our hearts are pounding in sync.
Dayn’s lips find mine again, slower this time, deeper, like he’s savoring every second, every taste of me.
I melt into it, my body pressing upward to meet his, skin sliding against skin in a way that sends sparks racing through my veins.
His hands roam, mapping me with a reverence that makes me feel cherished, powerful, like I’m the center of his world.
I mirror him, my fingers tracing the scars and ridges of his back, feeling the heat of his dragon essence thrumming just beneath, alive and wild but so utterly focused on me.
We shift together, his weight settling over me, and I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between us. The anticipation builds, a sweet ache coiling tighter in my core as he positions himself, the tip of him pressing against me, teasing that exquisite edge.
My breath hitches. Gods, I’ve never done this before, never let anyone this close. There’s a sharp surge of nerves beneath the want, a vulnerability I can’t hide. But it’s Dayn. And somehow that makes it feel safe, right. Like this is where we’re meant to be.
He pauses there, his forehead resting against mine, breath ragged as he meets my eyes.
“Esme,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “there’s something you need to know. Dragons... we’re potent. Very potent.”
My breath catches, the room suddenly feeling very still.
I’ve always assumed that magical beings as sophisticated as dragons have some ancient magic to “rein it in,” to decide when and if life takes root—control over that raw, fertile power.
But the way he says it, voice low and edged with a hunger that makes my core clench, tells me I might be wrong.
And yeah, I feel like we’re stupid now for not discussing it before.
“Elaborate?” I whisper, even though I know, my hips shifting instinctively against him, feeling the hard length of him pulse in response.
He groans softly, his hands gripping my thighs, holding me steady as his amber eyes lock onto mine, dark with desire and something deeply feral.
“Humans and dragons are compatible, sexually. I believe I mentioned that to you before. But contraception isn’t a thing with dragons.
Won’t work, isn’t reliable. Though... we can choose.
To an extent.” His voice drops to a heated murmur, lips brushing my ear as he shifts, the thick heat of him pressing against my entrance, making me ache with need.
“It’s in our blood, our fire—to decide if passion leaves a legacy. ”
I swallow hard, my body trembling beneath him, caught between the raw want pooling in my core and the sudden spike of reality crashing through the haze.
A virgin, yeah, and definitely not ready for that kind of legacy—not now, not with the world unraveling around us.
My heart races, but I meet his gaze, searching those molten eyes for reassurance.
“But you can’t guarantee it?” I whisper, my voice breathy, edged with the vulnerability I can’t hide. “Not absolutely?”
He groans softly, his hips rocking just enough to tease, the friction sending fireworks up my spine.
“Not absolutely,” he admits, his breath hot against my skin, one hand sliding up my thigh in a possessive grip. “Dragons burn hot, wild—especially with you, Esme... You unravel me. But I will do everything within my power. I promise.”
I bite my lip, the words hanging between us like a spark to tinder.
Part of me wants to pull away, to think this through, but the rest—the part that’s already lost in him, in us—clings to hope.
He’s strong, ancient, a king of fire; if anyone can rein it in, it’s him.
I have to trust that, just like I trust the rest of this impossible bond.
“Then control your… legacy,” I murmur, my fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him closer despite the risk. “Until we’re ready.” If we’re ever ready.
Dayn’s eyes darken, that golden fire flaring brighter as he holds my gaze, his body tense and coiled above mine.
“I will,” he promises, voice rough with the effort of restraint, but there’s a glint of something wicked in his expression, like he’s already plotting how to push every boundary without crossing the line.
His hips shift, the thick head of him nudging against my entrance, slick and insistent.
A shiver tears through me, stoking my need into a raging storm.
“Realistically, though,” he murmurs, his lips brushing mine in a teasing kiss, “I doubt you’ll take all of me today.
Not with you being... you. And me being, well, me.
” He pulls back just enough to let his gaze drop meaningfully between us, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he emphasizes the sheer size of him, hot and heavy against my thigh. “Size has its downsides.”
I arch an eyebrow, even as my pulse races and a flush creeps up my chest. “Downsides? Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, dragon.
Or excuses.” My fingers trail down his abdomen, wrapping around him again, stroking slowly to feel the way he throbs in my hand—gods, he’s not exaggerating, the girth alone making my core clench in anticipation and apprehension. “You afraid I’ll break?”
His chuckle rumbles low as he nips at my jaw.
“Afraid? No. As I said: realistic. You’re tight as sin, Esme, and I’m not built for delicacy.
” He rocks forward gently, just the tip pressing in, stretching me with a delicious burn that makes me gasp.
“But I’ll savor breaking you in—slowly. Inch by gods-damned inch. ”
Our banter dissolves into something raw as he eases forward, that first real push breaching me with a pressure that’s equal parts ecstasy and agony.
Bliss explodes through my nerves, a hot, pulsing wave that has me arching into him, craving more, but gods, the pain laces through it like thorns—sharp, already stretching me beyond what feels possible, my body protesting even as it yields.
He’s right; we have to take this slow, every fraction of movement a careful negotiation between our bodies.
I bite my lip, a whimper escaping as he pauses, letting me adjust, his forehead pressing to mine, breath ragged.
“Breathe, love,” he whispers, voice strained with his own control, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit in slow, soothing strokes that send sparks of pleasure chasing away the edge of hurt.
It’s intimate in a way that strips me bare—not just the physical vulnerability of him claiming me like this, but the way his eyes never leave mine, watching every flicker of sensation across my face, adjusting to my gasps and moans like he’s learning a new language written on my skin.
He pulls back slightly, then presses in again, deeper this time, the pain blooming fresh but mingling with a rising tide of pleasure that makes my toes curl.
“Dayn,” I gasp, nails digging into his back, shadows flickering unbidden from my fingertips to wrap around us both, binding us closer together. His fire magic works too, weaving gentle warmth into my core to ease the ache, turning the pain into something shared, something that forges us tighter.
His thrusts continue, shallow and measured, each one coaxing my body to open for him, the bliss building in layers over the discomfort.
Sweat slicks our skin, his heat enveloping me, and I feel every inch of this process etching deeper than somewhere physical—exposing parts of me I didn’t know existed, but with him…
it somehow feels like home. He kisses me through it, slow and deep, whispering praises that make my heart swell even as my body trembles on the edge.
“You’re doing so well,” he breathes against my lips. He withdraws just a bit before easing forward, claiming another inch, enough to make stars burst behind my eyes, the pain fading into a sweet, throbbing fullness that has me clenching around him. “My perfect, fierce wife.”
I laugh breathlessly, the sound breaking into a moan as he rolls his hips, hitting a spot that sends pure ecstasy shooting through me.
“Flattery won’t make you fit any easier,” I tease, but my voice is wrecked, vulnerable, and I pull him down for another kiss, letting the intimacy of the moment wash over us.
He captures my lips, the kiss turning languid, his tongue stroking mine in time with the slow, careful rhythm he’s building between us. But then he breaks it, his hands sliding under my thighs in one fluid motion.
Before I can protest, he lifts me, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing, his strength effortless as he stands, carrying me with him in one powerful surge.
My back hits the cool stone wall of the turret, the impact jarring a gasp from my lips, but he’s already there, his body pinning me in place, his hips driving forward.
My legs wrap around his waist, locking him to me, and just like that, he has me—fully, completely, gravity and his unyielding grip giving him all the control.
The rough stone digs into my back, a stark contrast to the searing heat of Dayn’s body pressing me against it, but I barely register the discomfort. It’s nothing compared to the exquisite burn of him moving back inside me, stretching me further with every careful inch.