That flame is now an inferno of pleasure, lust, and love.
It is all-consuming, burning within me until I can no longer think, until all I can see his him.
And it is only then that I let my fangs sink into his skin, marking him as mine.
He cries out, his cock erupting once more, his hole clenching around my hard, pulsating length, and I feel my cock expanding, my knot forming, opening him up even more.
I suck at his bleeding wound, feeling his essence move into my mouth, the final phase of bonding. Consuming an integral part of him.
He wails, writhing in my arms as I swallow more of it, my release so powerful, I cover his ears and bellow. It shakes the walls and rattles the windows of his home. And in that moment, I feel my body trying to breed him, to plant my seed deep within his womb. I know it’s not possible, but still I want it.
It goes on and on, my body shaking and trembling, curled up around him, shielding him from the violent tremors that wrack my body. But he is moaning, clawing at my skin, his cock in a constant state of release, pulsing out so much cum that it will take hours for me to lick it from his body.
And then he goes limp in my arms as I suckle on his tender skin, lapping at the mating mark, our bodies still connected. We will be like this for a while.
My knot feels as if it never wants to return to normal. My cock would like to stay within my Dante for the rest of time.
Dante snuffles as I hold him close. I feel he is at peace. He is only in a short slumber as his body adjusts to the feeling of being mine, of being knotted to me. I hold on to this moment, memorizing each movement he makes, staring at the mark I made on his skin.
It looks good there, just as he does in my arms.
When he finally wakes, his eyes are hooded, his words slightly slurred.
“Cielo.”
“Dante,” I reply, kissing his lips gently, walking us to the bed, and setting us gently onto it. We are still connected, my knot still pulsing inside of him.
Perhaps we will have to live like this until the end of our days. Me buried inside of him.
I am sure he would not like that, but it seems my mind and body would not mind being tied to him like this.
He winces as I shift above him, and then he sighs happily, wriggling beneath me as I hold myself over him. He looks perfect, his skin shining, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. And I can smell the cum lingering on his skin. It makes my mouth water and my tongue ache to lick.
His fingers brush the mark I left on his neck, another sigh leaving his pretty lips.
“So, um, does this mean we’re bonded?”
I nod, meeting his stare, wanting to make sure he does not regret this. For I shall never regret a single thing about my Dante. Never in a thousand moons.
And what I see in those depths is nothing like regret, not even close. It is love.
“Good. You’re mine, baby.”
“Baybeee,” I repeat and then kiss him again. “Mine.”
We sleep soundly, my dreams full of lakes lapping the shore and the taste of Dante on my tongue. He is fully mine, the bond winding its way around my chest and tightening the longer we are together. It is now more than mind-reading.
It is our essences woven together.
I wake before my Dante does, leaving him behind in the dream as I roll over and stroke a finger through his hair. It is soft and clean, and smells like him.
He murmurs quietly, his body turning toward mine, and I trace a touch over his marks. My marks on his skin. Marks that may heal with his zitha, but I will always know they are there.
It will always be beneath his skin, thrumming a steady pulse, beating my name.
“Love you,” I murmur. I like those human words very much. I like the way they feel on my lips. Dante smiles, but I can tell he is sleeping. He is drifting in and out of the memories of the lake, and the bed. He is dreaming of the oyen, of being filled and bred.
Of me licking his cum off his skin when my knot finally went down and I was able to leave him.
