Page 69 of His Realm

We didn’t get up, instead stayed in bed, moving around sheets and blankets, and he was now lying on his stomach as I was tracing up and down his spine, watching goose bumps appear in response to my touch, the cool breeze from outside keeping the beads of sweat at bay. I loved these intimate moments with him, touching him, tracing the muscles under his skin, the veins in his arms, breathing in his scent that was, at the moment, sun and wind, the outdoors, grassy with a hint of leather and musk. I could have stayed there forever, sprawled out next to him, my soul soaking up the closeness.

His chuckle turned my attention from his gorgeous form to his mischievous green eyes.

“What’s funny?”

“Not funny. I’m just so at ease right now. I forgot I could feel this way.”

“Me too,” I said, leaning in to kiss him, only to have him pull me close and pin me to the bed under him. The feel of him, his weight over me, made me shiver.

“I need to remind you that you belong to me,” he murmured. “That you’re mine.”

“I could never forget,” I said, smiling up at him, slipping my arms around his neck and easing him down to me. “You know better.”

His tongue sank into my mouth, and I returned each of his deep, drugging kisses, savoring the taste of him, his dominance and my overwhelming desire to give him whatever he wanted. No one before Varic had ever taken all that I had to give, emotionally, physically, and demanded more. I had always been too much for others, too clingy, too invested, a man who needed to back off and love less. That wasn’t the case with Varic. He wanted me to be all over him, he wanted to hold hands at any available opportunity, he wanted to carry me to bed, and he wanted to fuck me and claim me until he felt it was enough. Never had I been with a more voracious lover, and every part of me, heart, soul, and body, sang with the certainty of our mating. The thing was, he couldn’t taste the truth in my heart or soul, but I could certainly show him with my body.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and made sure to slide my tongue around his fangs slowly, seductively, until I got the long, loud growl I was after.

Breaking the kiss, his voice, when he spoke, was thick and gravelly. “Hands and knees, my consort,” he ordered, then added, “Now.”

I scrambled to do as told, and once I moved, he was on me fast, my cheeks spread before his tongue, his talented, wicked tongue, slid into my ass.

“Varic!” I yelled, because it felt so much better than good, the pressing and licking, my muscles relaxing, succumbing to his languorous ministrations.

I heard the snap of the lube, and then his fingers slid inside me, two, then three, in and out, deep and then shallow, circling, making sure I was slicked and ready.

“I’m ready to be eaten,” I teased him.

Normally, I’d get a filthy chuckle in return, or a slap on my ass, but there was only more of his fingers inside me, and when I turned to look at him over my shoulder, I saw it, the flicker of gold there in his eyes, feral and untamed, the need in him to claim me far greater than I had considered.

We’d been apart longer than ever before, and as unmoored as I’d felt, not myself, weak, a shadow of my former self, he hadn’t confessed what it had been like for him other than to say he’d missed me as well.

Maybe it had been worse for him. Or if not worse, then new, different, and he’d found himself altered. Perhaps a darkness had built, filled him up with uncertainty, eating away at what he took for granted in himself, the ability to always be ruled by logic and calm. It was possible that holding himself together, keeping the veneer of civility had become untenable near the end. I knew him, and he was always so careful not to let anyone see the toll that loss or estrangements had on him. It was hard when you were the prince and expected to be a rock for all others, to remain forever steadfast and unbreakable. There could be no yearning in him, no insistent sadness, nothing that would ever imply weakness. No one around him had ever seen him separated from me, without me, so perhaps there had been great reserves of strength that had to be used to hide his wolf under layers of humanity. No one saw Varic come apart but me, and at the moment, in bed, there was only the ache and yearning for his mate that he could finally allow out because I was there, beside him, to slake the hunger.

“Varic, come, lie down with me,” I whispered, rolling to my side, lifting my left leg, opening myself for him, showing him my submission, letting the animal see, because I knew that every other part of his facade had burned away, leaving only a basic, primal, carnal need.

He turned my head to the right—he didn’t want me to see him—and I held it there, the side of my neck exposed as I grabbed hold of my thickening cock and stroked myself.

I heard him breathing in my scent, sniffing me, and then his tongue licked over the head of my cock, the pearly drops of precum swallowed before he was behind me, at my back, his right arm shoved under me, his hand gripping my right pectoral hard, the claws abrading my skin, piercing. His left hand slid down my abdomen, pressing there, holding me as the head of his cock pressed at my entrance.

“Oh please,” I begged him, hot, moist breath on my neck and shoulder before he bit down, rows of teeth clamping at once, pinning me against him. He couldn’t drink my blood, not in his wolf form, his only desire to keep me close.

The saliva and lube and endless rimming allowed for the breach, the push into my body that wasn’t fast but also never stopped or slowed, just stretching and filling, the taking in of the impressive length and girth of the wolf.

There was so much of him, but still Varic, still my love, and the feeling of fullness was incredible, and that hand on my cock squeezed tight and released. I needed more of him, and so begged him to move.

“Fuck me,” I pleaded, squirming on his cock, straining for more, needing him to have all of me, to take utter possession of my body. It was what we both needed.

Slowly, he began to move and opened his mouth a bit, his tongue licking over the bite as he thrust.

“You know I love you,” I murmured, reaching up to stroke over his muzzle, once and then again. “That will never change.”

That fast he was shivering, my name coming out in a snarl, but I heard it and turned my head because I could, my lips grazing over stubble on his cheek.

“You’re mine in any form you take, my prince.”

I cried out as he eased from my clasping hole. I didn’t want to let him go. But he only rolled me to my back, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and slid to the hilt easily, before beginning the rutting he could not manage in any form but a man.

Reaching over my head, I slipped my hands under the headboard, holding tight as he pounded inside me, fast and hard, our skin slapping together loudly.