I pause and realise he wants me to sit upright. Swallowing hard, I do just that, peering down and taking my fill of his strong body and the richness of his purple skin. There are different shades obvious, so unlike my skin that’s a deep, warm brown.
I follow the movement of his hand as it moves to his cock. This time my swallow is audible when he grips himself. The head pulses at contact, the small slit opening and releasing silver fluid. It looks thick and silky.
Unable to resist, I touch the drip of silver that trickles down the smooth skin of his deeper purple cock. His gaze locks onto me, brighter now, more focused.
I glance up, meeting it. “Can I taste it?” I ask. The question slips out before I can stop it. Before I can decide whether Ishouldask.
But now it’s out there. And the moment it sinks in, the bond flares.
Heat spikes, sudden and immediate, desire threading through it in a way that makes my pulse kick harder, my body lean forward without me meaning to.
Varek’s control slips another fraction. “Yes.” The word is low, rough, almost feral.
It’s the most unrestrained I’ve heard him sound.
I don’t look away. Don’t hesitate. I bring my finger up to my lips, aware of him watching every movement and how the air between us feels thicker now, heavier.
Then I taste it.
It’s not what I expect.
It’s not metallic or bitter. It’s warmer than that. Smoother. Deeper and richer—faintly sweet, but grounded with a flavour I can’t quite name. Something that tastes like…him.
The flavour hits my tongue and then drops straight through me, the bond surging in response, heat blooming again—stronger, fuller, as if that single act just pulled me deeper into it.
“Fuck,” I breathe. My eyes flick back up to his.
And the look on his face…. Yeah. That’s not restraint anymore. That’s hunger. The kind that’s been waiting a long, long time.
My pulse stutters as he coats his fingers and reaches for me. Scooting forward, I bend, my groan flying free when his hand finally touches my arse.
“Do it,” I order, needing his thick fingers stretching me wide. I want the sting. I want to commit everything about this moment to memory.
More than that, I want to be open and prepped and riding his giant cock, fucking him until I pass out while his knot keeps us connected.
Varek drags his fingers over my arse cheeks—slower this time, like he’s taking stock instead of just touching. I drop my head back when he dips one finger between my cheeks and taps lightly at my hole, the sound I make tearing out of me before I can swallow it down.
He answers with a low, rolling growl, and then he’s there—pressing, circling, testing. Not rushed. Never rushed. A measured slide of his finger in, out, in again, each movement deliberate enough to make my breath hitch harder every time.
It wrecks me fast. Too fast. My breathing goes jagged, my thoughts scattering as heat coils low and vicious. I rise higher, arse lifted, and whatever restraint I usually cling to snaps clean through.
“Varek—fuck—mate.” The word bursts free unbidden. “Please. I need you to fuck me.”
The words sound wrecked, desperate—too honest—but I don’t take them back.
My hole opens, the sudden brush of air making me twitch. The wet slick of more lube being pushed inside me joins my ragged breathing, but I barely register it before two of his thick, coated fingers press inside.
“Pax.”
My name threads through me, low and steady, not loud, but heavy enough to settle in my bones.
“You were made for me.”
“That’s what I’m begin—” I choke on the rest when he adds a third finger, deeper, angling just right. Stars burst behind myeyes. My breath stutters, tears pricking hot and fast as I grab at his chest. “I—fuck—I need you.”
“You will have all of me.”
Not a promise. A decision.
