Heirot

Havitharon cried out. The grip on his horn, shoving him down, pressing him into her... it called to every need and every instinct tearing at his sanity. He found the place she wanted him and immediately covered her with his mouth. The taste of her sent a low moan rumbling from his throat, vibrating against her sensitive skin. He shuddered and dipped his tongue inside her. Pre-come oozed from his member and dribbled onto the marble floor beneath him.

Tenara's back arched, her hand tightening over his horn. Her bandaged hand splayed across the cold floor, nails dragging against the smooth surface, wanting to hold something but afraid of the pain. She wasn't quiet with her appreciation, and she didn't think about the line of guards standing outside Havitharon's room turning red-faced. She knew only bliss. Her hips rocked against his lips. His mouth drove her higher, until she was gasping, clinging, begging. "Havi... Havitha—" She locked her legs on his head, shuttering as a wave of pleasure ripped through her.

Each time she moaned, it was like hands dragging over him. He groaned against her skin, sucking and kneading with his lips and tongue. When her climax swept over her, he could feel her clench around his tongue, just as her legs locked around his head. He succumbed to her grip without reserve, letting himself be pinned, drinking her until she shook under him.

She felt liquid and warm and breathless. For a being who had not been with a woman, he was frighteningly good at that. Her legs eventually released him and she gently tugged his horn so that he was back lying next to her on the floor. She nuzzled into his side, curling her leg over him possessively for a second before she rose up next to him, and then over him. She sat on his belly, bending to kiss the mouth that had drank her in, and when she'd had enough of him, she slid up and back, hovering over the thing she wasn't quite certain would fit—no matter how wet and loose and ready she felt.

But she was determined.

Tenara rested a hand on his chest and touched him gently with the other, guiding the head of him to the center of her heat. She met his eyes as she lowered herself to him. Her body resisted at first, but her lithe weight eased down until the head of him filled her. She tilted her head back, her breath caught in her chest.

Havitharon arched against the marble, panting. It was impossible. He couldn't survive this. It was like his heart wanted to fight its way out of his chest. "Tenara," he tried to protest, but it just came out as a moan. He wanted to retreat, but he secretly wondered if that was just because he wanted to be held down. He was already at his limit. He couldn't.

He looked up at her face, at her sparkling eyes. "If it hurts," he warned, or begged, or moaned... he wasn't really sure anymore. He couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't bring himself to give her a request, let alone a command, in his current state.

Tenara didn't care if it hurt, not really. She could get used to it, she told herself. And she wanted him to feel it—passion and pleasure and what it was to be with a woman, after so many had hurt him before. Tenara let herself fall onto him, mistakingly assuming it could be like tearing off a bandage or ripping out a thorn, but it most definitely was not. The act tore the breath stuck in her chest from her lungs, a sharp cry that could have been mistaken by the guards outside as something decidedly not pleasure.

But it was, in some strange way. It was agony and bliss. She let herself stay seated on him, as much on him as she could possibly be. Not daring to move or breathe or blink. She was still for so long she lost track of it, and then she grew brave again to move atop him in slow, rounded curves of her hips. She'd never felt so full. There was something sinfully wonderful about it. She'd taken him. He was inside her. Gods he was inside her and it was... She looked down at him, watching how he reacted to the feel of her body and that alone could be pleasure. She saw the silvery-black lines her nails had painted on his chest, and she bent to kiss them, to drag her tongue over them and wipe them clean.

Havi's concern for her safety made him pause, but she kept moving, and the sensations were like rocks piling over him, making it impossible to move or resist. He reached up and took her hand, holding it to help her balance so she wouldn't get hurt in the unbearably sexy dance she was performing on top of him. Then her tongue was sliding across his chest, along his pectoral, over his stiffened nipple, and he broke. "Hngh... Ah! Tenara....Hah..." He squeezed her hand like a lifeboat and spasmed inside her with a sharp cry. His orgasm crested over and over... much longer than a human's normally would. At the same time, he actually grew, a hard knot taking shape where he was deepest inside her. He growled as it tightened until it locked him within her.

His cresting orgasm struck her, a endless ripple of heat burning its way into her. She cried out, rocking against him as her own blurred the pain-tinged pleasure she'd been riding. But as she felt his powerful end, she felt a stranger sensation. Pressure spread through her lower belly, a tightness she had never experienced before pressing into her deepest place. She gasped at the feel because it was strange but also... nice. Really, really nice. She moaned, closing her eyes and relishing the pressure capping the fire that had spilled inside her. Then, she waited atop him for the pressure to ease. It didn't. Tenara decided not to think about it, to enjoy the rippling aftershocks of ecstasy still rolling through her. But her legs grew tired and she began to tremble and longed to curl along his side and rest. She pushed to slide off him and... couldn't.

She couldn't get off him.

Not that her legs were that tired—okay, they were—but she couldn't get him out of her. He was stuck. Fuck, she knew he was big but she didn't know he was that big. Maybe he'd shrink. Most men did afterwards. Right? Tenara stretched forward, resting against his chest as she waited for the inevitable feel of him falling out of her. He didn't.

"Havitharon," she said meekly from where she rested, her cheek against his sternum. "I'm... stuck."

Havitharon pressed his lips to the top of her head and traced his fingers along her back. "Of course you are," he purred.

Tenara's brow scrunched, and she drummed her fingers against his ribs until she gathered the courage to ask, "Ugh... Why am I stuck?"

Havitharon glanced down at her. "We're knotted already...I apologize, I lost control too soon. Your voice was..." His knotted erection tried to respond to the thought of her. He flinched, his
breath rushing out in a hiss. It was too soon to be so aroused again. He'd never had a rutt as intense as this.

Tenara grew increasingly confused, and clenched her teeth at the pleasant twitch inside her, exhaling a ragged breath across his skin. Knotted? She sat up again, looking down at him, and then placed her palm on the lowest part of her belly, where she felt the pressure of him. "You're... Are you saying... Did you just... and we're stuck? Havitharon...” She put her face in her hands. “This is the sort of thing you should tell a girl before she lets you inside.” Granted, his need of her had seemed urgent, and she hadn’t really thought about the possible differences in anatomy beyond the fact he was quite large. She probably should have asked a few clarifying questions. “Will this happen every time we make love?”

She wished she could pull the words back. He might never want to touch her again. Whatever had been happening to him, it seemed to have been tamed a measure by her distraction. She wasn’t sure if she was his Yurivis. She thought there would be more ceremony to it, but maybe not. Maybe it was as simple as impaling herself on him, and now that she had, he might not have need of her to do it again. He might not want her to. Maybe he was like an animal and only felt desire when his seasons changed. She kept her face covered to hide from the impending rejection.

She liked being with him, even if she was stuck to him like a mated dog.

Havitharon paused before answering, trying to digest what she'd just said. She seemed so confused. Possibilities began to slowly register in his short-circuited brain. "Do you not...knot?"

She shook her head, lowering her hands. "No, we don't. When the man finishes... we detach. He pulls out, or she gets off him. He softens." She traced a circle on his silver-gray abs, looking at the differences in her warm, tanned flesh and his. "How... long are we like this?"

His hands on her back stilled. "I... it should only be a few minutes more," he said. He pushed back the temptation to feel bitten by her dismay. It was hard to fathom what she'd just described. To pull away from each other as soon as they were finished... They might as well throw their mate out on the street naked too. "I'm sorry that I did not explain. This only occurs during a male's rutt. If it displeases you, the rutt can be tamed without knotting. I will explain everything...If you still wish to keep me."