Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Being fucked by Varek’s cock is a thing of beauty. He’s so big, so strong, and he holds me in a way that feels less like restraint and more like being claimed—like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
But it’s not just that. It’s watching him lose control. Watching that carefully held composure fracture, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but raw feeling and need. Seeing it happen because of me…. That might just be my new favourite thing.
And I’m desperate to get him there again before I lose myself completely—
His cock pulses inside me, and I cry out, the sensation hitting deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. It’s overwhelming in a way that doesn’t just stay physical. It drags through me, through every nerve, every thought, until I can’t separate where I end and he begins.
“Fuck—” The word tears out of me, but even that feels inadequate. Because this… this isn’t just sex. It’s connection in its purest, most brutal form.
The bond flares between us, bright and consuming, amplifying everything until it borders on too much. I feel him—his pleasure, his need, the way he’s coming undone—and it feeds straight back into me.
And then it hits—not just the sense of it, but the full reality.
The bond surges, intense and blinding, his release tearing through me like it’s my own. It floods my system, heat and pressure and something deeper that has nothing to do with bodies and everything to do with connection.
Varek’s control slips. I feel it before I fully see it—the shift, the fracture in that carefully held restraint—and it hits me harder than anything else we’ve done.
If it’s going to feel this way—better than the last—every time, I’m not sure how I’ll survive it. But at least I’ll navigate the attempt with a huge grin and shrouded in bliss.
And that’s it for me.
Release crashes through me, perfect and overwhelming, dragging a broken sound out of my chest as I come hard, my body locking up under him. The bond flares with it, bright and consuming, pulling him into it, feeding it straight back.
“Fuck—” I grip him hard, holding on as the sensation rolls through me in relentless waves, leaving me breathless and wrecked in its wake.
For a second, everything narrows down to our connection… to him.
I’m barely coming back to myself when Varek stills above me, his breath rough, his body taut with something strained to breaking.
His gaze locks onto mine, silver eyes burning. “More,” he says, voice low, strained with need he’s no longer trying to hide.
The words go straight through me. I know he’ll be desperate for his knot to join us, which I’ve learned doesn’t happen every single time. But I know that being without this for so many years has been a strain that both of us are only just beginning to manage.
And honestly, if Varek wants to come a second time to get his knot action going, I’m here for it.
I nod, already shifting, lifting myself slightly despite the lingering tremor in my body. My limbs feel loose and unsteady, but I don’t hesitate. Not with the way he’s looking at me.
Not with the way the bond is pulling.
Every cell in my body is tuned in to him.
The slide of his cock feels unreal. I shudder, so ready to be trapped by his knot.
He pounds into me and lifts my hips with effortless strength.
The shift in position sends a gasping breath out of me, his cock skimming my sensitive prostate, sensation still riding the edge of my orgasm.
Varek’s control doesn’t hold for long. He breaks above me with a possessive roar, the sound shooting straight through me.
There’s no restraint left—just raw, unfiltered sensation as it takes him apart. His grip contracts, and he fucks me, pounding into me, his breath uneven, his composure shattering completely as he loses himself to it.
And I feel all of it.
Every pulse.
Every fracture.
Every time he lets go.
“That’s it,” Varek murmurs, voice rough, threaded with something deeper than desire. “Give me all of it.”
The bond surges again, dragging me with him even as my body protests, the connection too strong to ignore, too consuming to resist.
Brain whiting out, I come for a second time, feeling his cum coating my channel as he continues to push in and out of me, drawing up both of our orgasms. I clutch at him, holding on as the world narrows down to heat, breath, and the steady, unbreakable thread between us.
Even as the intensity fades just enough for thought to return, that connection doesn’t. It stays, deep and real. And that’s the part that hits me hardest. Because I’ve had sex before. I’ve had want, heat, and need.
But this? This is something else entirely. I’m never going to be able to pretend otherwise again.
The world comes back slowly around us, but not completely. Not yet. And not only because my brain is still struggling to catch up, but also because I can’t move.
I blink, breath still uneven, my body loose in that boneless, post-release way. “Not sure I’ll ever tire of your knot, but it makes a quickie practically impossible.” I snicker, glancing down between us.
Varek’s still joined to me, his body anchored in place, the knot keeping us locked together in a way that feels less intrusive than it probably should. There’s pressure, fullness, the lingering echo of him fucking me so completely.
“Is this—” I huff out a breath, half laughing despite myself after a few minutes. “—length of time normal?”
Varek’s chest rises and falls heavily, his gaze still fixed on me, silver eyes darker than usual, softened in a way I hope I never take for granted.
“Yes,” he says, voice rough but steadier now. “It will ease shortly.”
“Define ‘shortly,’” I reply.
“A variable amount of time.”
“Fantastic. Love that for me.” I grin, because I really do. I’m not in a rush to be untangled from him.
A faint curve touches his mouth.
I settle for a second, letting the warmth and weight of him sink in, the quiet hum of the bond smoothing everything out… and then my calf seizes.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding—nah, fuck off—” I hiss, my leg jerking instinctively as the cramp bites hard and fast.
Varek’s focus sharpens instantly. “You are injured?”
“No,” I grit out, trying to stretch it without jostling everything else we’ve got going on. “Just—leg—cramp—fuck—” I shift, trying to extend my leg, and immediately regret it. “Okay—nope. That’s… that’s not how that works.”
“You are attempting to move independently,” he observes.
“Yeah, well,” I mutter, breathing through the lingering ache, “I’d prefer not to die because my body decided now was the perfect time to betray me.”
His gaze drops briefly, tracking the movement of my leg. “You require adjustment.”
“I require a new body,” I shoot back. “One that doesn’t cramp mid—” I wave a hand vaguely between us. “—this.”
That actually gets a reaction. While it’s not a full laugh, it’s close enough, a low rumble in his chest that I feel more than hear.
“I will not crush you,” he says.
“You say that,” I mutter, eyeing the sheer size of him, the weight of muscle and bone that could absolutely flatten me if he got it wrong. “But you are… objectively massive.”
“There are advantages to this,” he replies.
“Oh, I’m aware,” I say dryly. “Currently experiencing several of them. Still doesn’t help the leg situation.”
Carefully—very carefully—he shifts. It’s controlled in a way that makes my brain short-circuit a little, every movement deliberate and precise, like he’s mapping me out in real time to avoid causing any discomfort.
We adjust together, slow and awkward at first, until we end up on our sides, still joined, facing each other.
It’s… better. A quick stretch of my leg, which pulls a bit, but I roll my ankle, and eventually my calf loosens.
There’s a brief pause as the last of the cramp eases out, leaving behind that dull, lingering ache.
Still very aware of how connected we are, I dance my brows up and down. “See?” I say, a little breathless. “Teamwork.”
His hand comes up, resting lightly at my waist, not holding me in place—just there. “You adapt quickly,” he murmurs.
“Yeah, well,” I reply, my voice quieter now, the edge gone. “Got a good teacher.”
His gaze narrows slightly at that, but there’s warmth in it, clear satisfaction that threads low through my chest via the bond.
We stay this way, close and breathing the same air. It’s strange but in the best way.
“So,” I say after a beat, because silence like this feels new enough that I don’t quite trust it yet. “What did you do for fun back home?”
His brow furrows slightly, like the question requires more thought than expected. “For fun?” he repeats.
“Yeah. You know. Not war. Not strategy. Not terrifying entire populations with your existence or getting new mates to learn the art of romance.”
Another flicker of amusement passes over his expression. “There were contests,” he says. “Strength. Endurance. Tactical simulations.”
I smile, imagining him entering them. While I haven’t witnessed it, I can’t imagine Varek not having a competitive streak. “Okay, I can see it.”
“But also….” He pauses, like he’s reaching further back. “We had younglings in our care to teach about the early bond development cycles.”
“Really?” I say, realising the whole relationship counsellor gig was obviously a lot more than getting newly mated couples on the same page.
“They required distraction as much as instruction,” he continues, ignoring that. “Games were… effective.”
I blink. “Games?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of games?”
His gaze shifts slightly, and for a moment, there’s a softer emotion there. Less commander. Less warlord. More… memory keeper.
“There was one,” he says slowly, “where they would attempt to climb me.”
I stare at him. “I’m sorry—what?”
“They would compete,” he explains, completely serious, “to reach the highest point before being removed.”
“You let children… climb you?”
“Yes.”
“Like a tree?”
“Yes.”