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Atlas rubs my heated skin, silent for a moment.
“There are some things for which there can be no vengeance,” he says. “Even if you had been the one to take Sheriff’s life, it would not have undone what he did to you. What he took was too fundamental, too primal. It left scars. Scars made fade over time, but they never go away.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No. It’s supposed to help you understand that what you feel is natural. But what you do… that is something else. You are becoming the monster you loathe when you kill these numahns. You are taking something that is not yours to take, and you are passing on pain that will ripple forever.”
“What would you know about being a monster?” I sniff, resentfully.
There’s a pause, and then mirth breaks out between the two of us, a chortle from him, and an embarrassed giggle from me. What does Atlas know about being a monster? He’s the most monstrous of us all.
“Indeed, what would I know?” He says the words dryly.
“I’m sorry. Sometimes, when you wear the suit, and you act so human, I forget what… you really are.”
“Then perhaps it is time I took the suit off for a little while. Maybe what you need is less human company, and more monstrous companionship.”
He shifts me off his lap and onto the bed, stands up, and peels off all semblance of humanity. I watch, thrilled, as his scythkin form is revealed, broad, gleaming, hard, dangerous. His mandibular face, his deep set eyes, his utter alien strangeness. Pieces of him click and hiss as blades extend and retract. There should be nothing relatable about him at all, but in this company of this creature, I feel kinship.
The scythkin monster picks me up carefully in hands that could easily snap me in two, and pulls me close. He then proceeds to remove every stitch of clothing from me.
“We should both be bare,” he says. “Nakedness is truth.”
He is ever the philosopher, even when in this terrifyingly powerful state. This is how he was when he ended Sheriff. This is how and who I need him to be. I do not need a clean cut, wholesome husband. I need a monster who can match me. I need him.
I run my fingers over his body, feeling how hard he his, but also feeling the musculature beneath the protective panelling that both keeps his blades stored away when they are not in use, but stops anything getting to the softer parts of him.
“I need you,” I murmur softly.
He pulls me up against him, and I feel that terrible scythkin cock rising against me. His appendage is not made for me. It is made for a matriarch of his species. A scythkin matriarch is the most fearsome creature in the universe. She is ruthless and she is massive and she is strong. She will die for her brood. She is the ultimate mother, and she makes the ultimate sacrifice.
Compared to such a creature, I am a weak, fleshy, small thing. My hunger, my fury, my capacity for terrible deeds is nothing. That is why I am safe in his arms. That is why I belong to him. I face my scythkin lover, clinging to his shoulders as his appendage finds its way up inside me, slowly but inexorably, using the lubrication of shame and punishment to spread my inner walls open.
I feel myself stretching. I feel the struggle it is to take him. No matter how careful, or how loving he is, I am a more delicate thing, and there is always the risk of damage.
His big, clawed hand grips my hair and tilts my head back. I pant with the effort of adjusting to him. He is not making this easy. He cannot make it easy. When he and I mate, it is intense. I am wet. I am sorry. I am sore. I am squirming on an alien cock several sizes too big for me, and I am getting what I deserve deep inside me.
“You’re mine,” he reminds me as he clamps me in place and thrusts inside me. “You are my possession. I share you, but I see you in every way that you are. There is nothing you can hide from me, little human. Do you understand?”
“Yes…” I whimper the word as I feel him expanding inside me.
“I don’t think you do. I think you spent so much time hiding who you were, thinking that you were an unknowable enigma, that you think nobody can know you. Emrys is blood of your blood, and you think you have secrets from him. I am your scythkin owner. I know the maps of your mind. I am intimate with your very neurons, and yet you insist on trying to defy and deceive me.”
He works me up and down on his cock, lecturing me as he fucks me, not letting this opportunity to make his point go to waste. I have to listen. I am entirely focused on him. At this moment, he is everything. He is the entire universe, inside me.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you no matter who you are, or what you do. I love every bit of you completely.”
His cock draws almost all the way out of my aching pussy, then thrusts back in, a harsh act of consummation and claiming. I let out one of those little animal whimpers again.
“Revenge is a waste of time. An impossibility. You cannot undo what has been done. But you can create something so beautiful and passionate from the ashes of what was, that it surpasses the life you would have had. Do not think about what has been taken from you. Think of what abides, and what will yet be. I will love you. I will protect you. I will give you this, and any other world you want. You are going to know love, and family, and connection and belonging for the rest of your life.”
Those beautiful words would make me cry from emotion, if I was not moaning in pleasure. Atlas fucks me passionately, taking the weight of me and my past easily as he shows me precisely where I belong - held in his heart, wrapped in his arms, and filled with his thick alien cock.
I am not yet healed. I may never be healed. But I will be loved so fiercely I won’t feel the wounds as much. Atlas makes that abundantly clear as he shifts me yet again, face down on the bed this time, my ass up high, his big scythkin hands on my hips, cock sluicing in and out of my tight, wet cunt. He knows how to make me feel like a sweet little human, he knows how to make me feel like a cherished wife, and he knows how to make me feel like a wanton owned alien slave, being used for the sweetness of her hot little holes.
“Come for he,” he demands. “Show me your submission in your filthy wet orgasm.”
A harsh swat lands across my ass. He has picked up a wooden hairbrush and is now using the back of it on my butt as he fucks me toward a climax we both know I don’t deserve after my misbehavior today.
