I grip his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle as I sink down onto him. The stretch as he fills me is deep, a pressure that makes me pause, each inch sparking my nerves. It feels familiar, yet nothing about this feels the same. He lets me set the rhythm, and for an instant I can only stare at him, surprised that he is giving me the control instead of taking it. The restraint in him is visible now, his hands trembling against my hips as thoughforcing himself to remain still. Instead, he pulls me into a rough kiss, tongue sweeping against mine like he cannot resist.
His hand moves between us, rubbing slow, firm circles until a broken sound tears out of me. I falter against him. His eyes lift to mine.
Neither of us speaks.
Distant strings drift in from beyond the throne room doors, carrying into the silence between us. My movements slow. His hands tighten on my hips, but he does not take control. He only watches. The restraint in his face is almost painful now, his breathing roughening each time I move.
“Asharin,” he says, and the sound of my name in his mouth nearly undoes me.
He reaches for me, trying to pull me closer. I catch his wrist.
“No.”
For an instant he looks ready to resist. Then his hand loosens and he leans back against the throne instead. Before he can speak again, I press my finger lightly against his mouth.
“Shhh,” I whisper. “Just watch.” My words dissolve into a moan as I throw my head back, hips rolling in a careful rhythm, feeling the drag of him inside me, the ache building low in my stomach, sharpened by the movement of his hand between my thighs. My grip tightens on his shoulders, uneven sounds slipping from me, the wet sound of us filling the throne room with every motion. Colsar’s free hand remains locked at my waist, his focus fixed entirely on me.
Then he reaches for me again. “I need you.”
This time I let him pull me close. He sits forward, wrapping his arm around me as I pause against him, my forehead nearly resting against his. Neither of us speaks. I can feel him pulsing inside me. His stare holds mine completely, one gray eye, one blue, both stripped bare in a way I have never seen from him before.
A tear slips down my cheek. I do not move to stop it. “This is what you almost lost,” I whisper.
His hand tangles into the back of my hair as he drags me into a bruising kiss, a rough sound breaking from him against my mouth.
“It will never happen again,” he rasps. “I can’t lose you. I can’t?—”
The words break apart before he can finish them.
“Asharin,” he says again, voice rough and frayed. “I’m sorry for the pain I caused.”
He buries his face against my neck, breathing me in like he needs the proof of me there. “I am so sorry,” he whispers.
I begin to move against him again, slow at first, feeling the tremor that runs through him beneath me. “Fix it,” I whisper softly. “I want everything.”
His lips press hard against mine, then trail to my jaw, my neck, touching everywhere, relentless. The emotion builds alongside the physical pull, each motion of my hips driving me closer to a breaking point, his fingers speeding that rush. My legs shake, tension winding tight, and a wave of feeling suddenly looms over me, overwhelming in its intensity. I freeze, breath hitching. “Talk me through it," I say, voice trembling. I leave the rest unspoken, but I know he understands.
I am giving you everything again. Do not leave mealone in this.
He looks at me, his expression softening even as the hunger in him remains. His fingers slow but do not stop.
“Breathe for me, Asha,” he says quietly. “I’m here.”
“I was alone,” I say, the hurt in my chest still there, mingling with the pleasure cresting through me.
A rough sound leaves him then, the words seeming to tear themselves free. “You will not lose me again.”
The promise reaches somewhere deeper than the pleasure itself, easing the fear still tangled through my body. I nod weakly, another sound breaking from me as I begin to move my hips again, now with intention as I feel myself getting closer.
“Colsar,” I whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Keep talking.”
His forehead presses briefly against mine. “That’s it,” he murmurs, voice rough with effort. “There is only us. You are mine and I am yours, Asharin. Let go for me.”
I’m his. And I realize there is nothing else I want more.
The tension breaks, pleasure flooding through in a blinding rush, my legs quaking as a raw cry tears from my throat. His fingers on my center draw it out, prolonging the release until I'm gasping, overwhelmed by the surge of sensation and emotion. He holds me tight, kissing my neck, my lips, murmuring, "That's it, I've got you, my Asha Bear" as I shudder against him. Then I feel warmth leaking from my chest, milk trickling down my skin, dripping onto his. Embarrassment burns through me, and I stop, hands fumbling to cover myself. "I didn't expect that," I say, voice tight.
His fingers catch mine, pulling them away with a tenderness that cuts through my shame, though his other hand pauses for a moment. "Don't hide from me," he says, voice quiet but firm, almost breaking. "This is us. You've given me everything, our children, our life." He leans in, lips brushing my skin, tongue tracing the milk across my breast, slow and careful. "Just don't tell Ari I took his share," he adds, a faint humor in his tone, before kissing me again, hard and deep, hands pulling me close as if he can't stand any distance. “I am in awe of you,” he rasps.
