Z

You only smile and nod, completely blissed out of your mind. Kylo had fucked you for what must be close to two hours now, leisurely in this courtyard which sits in the center of his grand palace. The both of you were sealed away for the day, an order sent out to be undisturbed as he pleasures you to your hearts’ content.

Resting on a plush padded blanket, listening to the sound of lyres and birds sing-songing together outside, surrounded by treats and pillows of all kinds, Kylo situates your bodies to best suit this need, this desire of his. He sits up against the pile of plush pillows, and you crawl up onto his lap. His cock is hard still, and though he’s just come in you for the fourth time today so far, you sigh out happily as you sink back down onto it.

“Thank you.” Kylo murmurs as his strong scarred arms wind around your middle, holding you steady as he begins to kiss along the swell of your breasts.

“Of course darling.” You twine your fingers through his hair, twisting them and carding through his locks gently, as he gives equal attention to them.

It’s been six months since your child was born, and the palace doctors have advised you to start introducing solid foods to the baby’s diet, which meant they were not drinking as much of your milk. Kylo had very shyly, painfully shyly at first, asked if he could remedy that surplus for you, terrified of the rejection. But there was none to come, and so now whenever he was in the mood, he asked to take your nipple between his lips.

He does so now, and the both of you hum at the sensation. You’re acutely aware of Kylo’s cock buried inside you, and you give him a playful squeeze. Eyes closing and those long lashes of his brushing against your skin, Kylo groans as he latches himself to your breast, his tongue prodding as he sucks firmly enough that you can feel your body reacting.

It was not only relief for you, to have your breasts emptied and not gone to waste, but it was pleasurable too. Maybe it didn’t affect you as much as it did Kylo, who breathes deeply and evenly and moans every so often while he drinks, but it would be a lie to say you weren’t affected at all.

Kylo’s hands roam across your back, whispering sweet nothing in the drag of his fingertips against your skin. Neither of you are wearing anything at all, not even jewelry, for your day in the sun. And what a day it is, you think with a blissed out sigh. Your baby is napping in their nursery, the officials and senators are adjourned for the weekend, no one is around to disturb these intimate moments.

One of your breasts feels noticeably lighter than the other, and it’s at that point that Kylo switches, kissing all over your cleavage and murmuring something unintelligible -- praise to the goddesses, no doubt. You smile, and let your eyes close, your head tilting up to bask in the warmth of the sun, breathing evenly for him, your heartbeats in perfect synchronization. The stimulation goes straight to your clit, but it’s easy to ignore it for the time being. You’ve already had so much sex, and you’re bound to have more later in the day – this can simply be an act of togetherness, calm and peaceful.

When he finishes, you’re pleased to feel him coming in you again, lucky number V. He blinks tears away from his eyes, and one day you hope that he’ll tell you why he’s affected so by the intimacy of this act. For now, it’s enough to caress his cheek, to rub across the firm muscles of his back while he comes, and sniffles softly into your flesh.

“Good?” You whisper, as he finally pulls off of you.

“The best thing I have ever tasted.” He rests his cheek against your shoulder, and licks his lips, reaching out a finger to catch the very last drop that lingers on your nipple.

“Better than my pussy?” You give his ear a playful tug, feeling even more drunk off pleasure than before.

“Hmm, I don’t know, I seem to have forgotten her flavor.” Kylo grins, eyes big and wet and so handsome.

The first time Kylo had done it, the Senators stopped and stared in astonishment. They knew their Emperor was a...physical man, intent on pleasuring himself whenever and with whomever he pleased. But until he met you, he had kept those relations in the privacy of the concubines’ rooms, or at most, the palace baths. 

So when he requests you sit on his cock in front of the entire forum, while senate is in session -- while they are in the middle of a debate!! -- they are stunned. 

Even more so when you do as your Emperor wishes, happily and eagerly pushing the see-through fabric of your skirt to the side to straddle his waist. 

Now though, now they have gotten used to his intense urge for the carnal pleasure of your body. The senators have seen him fuck you on every possible surface, and mostly keep to their business. The shock has worn away. 

The side effect of being aroused, hasn’t. And this is why it’s one of Kylo’s favorite places to fuck you. 

He loves the sounds he is able to pull out of your chest, your breasts out and oiled up, skin glowing from the light that pours through the windows. Sometimes, he keeps your bodies facing one another, as he sits on his chair in the center of the debate floor, kisses you deeply. 

But other times, he’ll have your naked body facing the senate, your glorious breasts and stomach on display, your legs spread, so that all may see his cock thrusting up into your aching wanting pussy. 

He sinks his teeth into the spot where your throat and shoulder meet, claiming what’s his with deep marks that he leaves behind. 

You’re loud, his cock is so big and it constantly knocks up against your g-spot, and he loves it when you moan out high and breathy, encourages it. The senators stumble and stammer over their arguments, growing hot in their robes and tunics -- it is delightful entertainment for Kylo. 

When you’re close, and you whine and beg for Kylo to speed his movements up, when you’re bounce bounce bouncing on his cock, having to brace your hands against the arm rests of his great stone chair, tears of pleasure wailing down your cheeks, Kylo makes a show of it, of giving you exactly what you want. 

He’ll grab your hair or your jaw, prying your mouth open and shoving fingers against your tongue to suck on while he blows his load right there in front of the senators, your naked body trembling and shuddering as your voice shouts out an orgasm that brings the senate hall to a stand-still. 

It grows quiet in the debate hall then, as senators try their best to keep their hands to themselves -- for Kylo has made it clear that if anyone were to pleasure themselves in your presence, they’d lose the hand for the offense. Nearly everyone in the room gulps down air, sometimes they take an adjournment to calm their nerves. 

This possession manifests in grand public displays of affection, and of lust. Some days he wishes for nothing more than to shove you against a wall and fuck you so hard and loud that the entire city can hear your moans. Some days he will lay you down softly and sweetly upon a cushioned couch and make love to you in the atrium. It all depends on his mood, which way his touch will go, and your mood, which touches you’ll allow of him.

If he is feeling particularly strong, confident, a proper and true leader, his touch is darker, rougher. He will grab at your flesh while you sit atop his lap, he will bite and suck dark marks into your throat, your shoulder. He will smack your ass loudly when you pass him by, shoot you a beaming smug grin which you only return with a fond roll of your eyes – before he begins immediately chasing you around the room, laughter bright and loud. He will pry your jaw open and spit into your mouth and you will swallow it with bright eyes, eager and thrilled that he will so openly stake his claim on you, for neither of you are ashamed of this, of this curling enveloping passion he holds for you and only you.

If he is feeling unsure of something, if he is feeling soft, sentimental, sweet, he will lay his head across your thighs and wrap his arms around your legs, fingertips skimming over the hair on your calves, delicately caressing your ankles, thumbs swirling sweet touches to your hips. He worships your flesh, will kiss and kiss and kiss at your stomach, your breasts, your hands and shoulders. He will press prayers into the crook of your elbow, the fluttering pulse beneath your jaw, eyes closed, devoted.

You and Kylo are among them, of course, and none of the events begin until Kylo gives the ceremonial speech to begin. Then, the trumpets and horns blare, the drums beat and the people cheer and cheer, as champions enter the arena. 

The games are your favorite, for they are filled with numerous tasks which the champions must complete. The chariot races bring much excitement, and many subjects placed bets on which chariot teams would pull fastest. Many subjects were loyal to certain teams, and would dress in the matching team colors and shout and cheer them on. 

However more than the chariot races, the gladiatorial challenges were the most bloodthirsty of all, for these were fights to the death, and it made you, Kylo, and the entire arena’s blood pump with excitement. 

You were known to throw yourself against the railing and shout out and cheer the champions on as they beat and bludgeoned one another to death, and the winner was given the high honor of receiving a kiss on the lips from you. This kiss was so highly coveted, that many champions could be seen praying at your temple before the games for good luck.

Men and women alike were welcome to participate, and often, the women who won their rounds and their ranks in the tournament were chosen by you and Kylo to be incorporated into the royal guard, another high honor. 

Where you adored the games, Kylo adored the executions. He loved nothing more than to watch criminals be torn limb from limb at the hands of trained gladiators, or better yet, as Goliath preferred, shredded by teeth and claws of the fierce tigers which take their entertainment out on these traitors to the law. 

Goliath herself was a prominent feature of these executions, however she was not alone. Often joined by her brothers and sisters who had come with her to Naboo, the crowd went wild as they hunted, pounced, maimed, and roared, preening under the attention. 

No matter what the tournament or occasion though, you were sat atop Kylo’s lap in full ceremonial clothing, for this arena was a special place, and as the Emperor’s favorite concubine, you were decorated in beautiful fabrics and jewelry. 

You are not so content to sit still during the tournament games, constantly jumping off his lap to cheer and press yourself to the railings, much to Kylo’s amusement. But during the executions, Kylo’s cock gets so hard at the sight of spilled blood, that you are seated atop it for nearly the entire duration of the event. 

He’ll push your skirt up and have you sit on his cock, encourages you to clench down around him, milk his pleasure. You love feeling full, feeling so filled, publicly on display. 

No one is really watching you of course, not when there’s such excitement down below, but if anyone were to cast their gaze to the Emperor’s seat, he’d see you riding him, your head resting back on his shoulder, or his mouth latched to your neck and he gropes at your breasts. 

Your moans are swallowed by the applause of the crowd as Goliath sinks her teeth into the limbs of traitors, thieves, murderers, abusers, but Kylo can hear them all just the same. His grip on your hips or your breasts is bruising, and he often will come in you again and again, kept hard from the adrenaline. 

Even had you not been a conduit for the powers that watch high up above the clouds, Kylo knows he would still bow his head to you as he does now. He almost cannot bear to look at you, the strength of your beauty is ferocious, is fierce, the way your features glimmer and shine for him in the low candlelight. Ethereal, that is what you are, what you always will be, to Kylo.

“Hello my darling.” You whisper, tilting his face up to meet your gaze, eyes soft and playful, happy that he’s here. In all his years, he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone has glad to see him as you always seem to be.

“Hello beloved,” Kylo whispers back, a secret exchange just for the two of you. The Goddesses above are watching, they are waiting, expecting the consummation of the Summer to begin. Neither you nor Kylo wish to keep them waiting for very long. “May I?”

“You may.” Nodding, you settle yourself back down against the mountain of pillows that adorn his bed, feeling quite pleased. Not even the Empress herself has been fucked among these pillows, this is a privilege just for you.

With this new permission, Kylo’s hands begin their claiming act, their marking, dipping his fingers in honeyed wine, the deep dark scarlett drink stains his fingertips. He smears it against your flesh, bare to him yet not cold, the room comfortably warm. Dragging those fingers up and down your limbs, he spells out the prayers that the Goddesses have handed down in dreams, making sure to articulate each symbol and letter in perfect precision, making sure to be good. He wants, oh how desperately does he want, to be good for you.

Your body is a beautiful canvas for his ministrations, and where his fingers move, so does a trail of desire, shivering across your skin. Much like he is drawn to you, you are pulled to him, and wherever he moves pushes up against his palm, seeks more contact, seeks the strong soothing touch of his hand.

He begins with your face, the lightest trail of his fingertips over your cheeks, the bridge of your nose. Following then down your neck, ghosting over your breasts -- he’ll come back to them later, he always does -- the expanse of your stomach where it pushes out, round with his child, his divine heir, the curve of your hip. He kneads the flesh of your thighs and skims across your calves, not stopping until even the arches of your feet and your ankles have been covered in the prayers, the thick lines that glisten in the light.

And then, only then, does he position himself above you fully on the bed, his body caging yours. Your legs fall open for him, pupils blown wide with lust, mouth parted ever so slightly as hot breaths puff out from between your lips. This is ritualistic, but almost every time you and Kylo have sex turns into this silent admission of power, of possession. He worships you, in and out of the temples that he has built in your name, he takes pleasuring you seriously, so seriously, that your pussy is dripping for him before he can even touch you between your legs.

“What do they say?” Kylo whispers against your mouth as he leans down to kiss you, something chaste, something small before it all begins.

Your eyes close as you lean into the kiss, pressing your faces closer together, your palms on his cheeks, holding him tight.

“They say it’s time.” You smile, an eager excited grin, and almost as if on cue, a wind sweeps through the bedchambers, the candles flickering for just a moment. You grin and let out a small breath of a laugh, and Kylo smiles back, before pulling away for a moment.

He lifts the jug of wine to his mouth and swallows down a large gulp, letting the liquid course through his body. He can feel it spreading, can feel it tingling through his body. He then takes another large mouthful, but this time instead of swallowing it for himself, he bends down to meet your lips again, passing this wine onto your tongue so that you may swallow it too.

You are Holy, this Kylo knows, for when you drink the blessed wine your body glows, otherworldly, divine. The Goddesses have continued to hold you in high regard, you have continued to please them, the evidence is in the prosperity of the Empire, in the gift of the life that is growing inside of you, and for this, Kylo will pleasure you.

His cock is achingly hard, by the time you have swallowed the last drop, your limbs shaking, eyes shining at him. Your legs are spread, and he does not make you wait any longer, before spreading your folds with his calloused fingers, pressing the head of his cock against your wet cunt.

“Yes,” You moan when he begins to sink down down down, when he has to grasp a hold of your hip for purchase and thrusts, “Yes!”

The word, the praise, echoes up against the painted frescoes of his bedchambers, traveling heavenward, for the Goddesses to appraise. Kylo begins to thrust in earnest then, his hips smacking against yours as your legs wind around his waist, one bending and hooking around his shoulder for deeper penetration that has your mouth dropping open with a gasp.

“Stars, Kylo -- faster, you can go faster -- please!” You moan for him, loud loud loud, wanting the whole Empire to hear, knowing they’re listening.

He drops his mouth to your nipples, sucks on them with eyes pinched shut, a desperate sort of groan moaning out of his throat. They’ve gotten bigger since you’ve become pregnant with his child, and he adores them. He always has, but knowing that this change is because of him has him spurred on further, and he grunts as he buries his cock further into your cunt, giving you the pleasure that you always provide for him.

“Darling, oh my darling, fuck that’s so good, you’re so wonderful to us.” Your voice takes on a quality that Kylo can never place, but he does not fear it. How could he, when you are so beautiful, and your hands on his muscles are so gentle?

“All for you,” Kylo groans as he pulls out nearly all the way before shoving back inside your tight pussy, biting and sucking at your breasts, desperate ragged breaths puffing against your sternum, “All of this, all I do is for you, my beloved.”

You only grip his hair tight and keep him in place long enough for you to come, a gentle wave that washes over your bones, your body tensing and then relaxing all at once, the stress of the day melting away as your eyes roll back into your head.

“Beautiful,” Kylo whispers as he smears the wine that’s been so carefully applied to your flesh, “You are so beautiful.”

You’re still floating in the bliss of pleasure to respond, but that’s alright. Kylo positions you so that you might be more comfortable, resting on your side as he settles behind you. Lifting one of your legs up and over his hip, Kylo fits his cock back inside you, and continues to fuck you through your orgasm. He latches his mouth onto your neck, and you moan, your fluttering cunt clenching around his hard cock, and Kylo can swear that he hears choirs of angels sing.

Like this he stays, fucking you long through the evening, until the stars themselves twinkle with approval, impressed high up above the palace where he keeps you safe and warm. Pleasure ebbs and flows like the wine, like the tide of the Nabooian sea, and your crescendo of moans and sighs harmonizes with the songs of the Goddesses above as they play their harps in joyous celebration.

Unlike the Harvest Festival of autumn, the Summer Festival is a private affair, tucked away in the bedchambers for the entire evening. You had proven yourselves with the Harvest festival, that much was evident, but this offering was something that neither you nor Kylo wanted to deny the Heavens. The pleasure that Kylo gives you reverberates through the Empire, in each field of crops and wildflowers, in every spring and river, in the towns and cities, the soil and the sky.

“I’m going to fill you with my come, it’s going to drip down your thighs and soak into these sheets and then I will replace it all night long, again and again.” Kylo promises you with a ragged groan as he fucks into your cunt harder, steadier, a rhythm that has your body jolting and twitching, throat clicking and lungs moaning.

You’ll have them, you’ll have as many as Kylo can manage, rolling around in the sheets with you, tangling his fingers through your hair, gripping your hips, your pussy throbs around his cock as he spills into you for the first time, another orgasm meeting his own.

“More,” You demand as you plunge your tongue down his throat, your hands a possessive claim all their own on his face, holding him close, keeping him as near as possible, your bodies linked, just as your souls are. “I want more.”

Kylo grins, and positions you on your knees this time, your stomach supported by a mountain of pillows, as his still hard cock drips come all over the back of your thighs, pushing it back inside your pussy as he drapes himself over your back, bites down hard on your shoulder to gain purchase, and begins to fuck you hard again.

His hands have a hard time deciding where they want to go, but eventually, as they always do, they settle on your own, fingers twined together, as he fucks another orgasm out of you.

When it’s all over, when he’s come for the last time of the night, and the sunrise has begun to peek up over the cliffs, does he let himself nestle down against your breasts, his cheek resting against the pillow of your chest. Only once he is certain that you are as filled as you can be, with his love, with his devotion, with his worship, does he allow his own eyes to close, sleep finally overtaking him.

And when you finally hear his breath begin to even out, knowing that he is falling into a deep and sated slumber, you kiss the top of his head gently, carding the fingers of one hand through his hair, the other hand softly rubbing circles against his bare back, lulling him into dreams of a beautiful future that he knows he will make come true.

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At first, you are amazed by the acrobats as they toss themselves through the air, their garments shimmering and sparkling as they balance on wires high up in the sky. You are enthralled by the contortionists that fit themselves into boxes, play instruments with their feet as easily as one would with fingers. You are astounded by the strength of the performers as they swallow swords and breathe fire.

But then the animals are brought out from their cages, and your heart begins to break, as the beauty and amazement falls to the wayside. There are a great deal many animals, all with their own acts, and each making your heart grow sadder than the last. Elephants larger than you had ever seen, whipped into standing on overturned baskets, a chariot of horses whose ribs poke out far too prominently. And then, the showstopping conclusion, a team of tigers who are riled up with firecrackers and whips, forced to do tricks and are beaten when they fail.

It's too much for you to bear.

“Enough!” Kylo recognizes your distress and immediately stands, his booming voice demanding a halt to the festivities. 

It is a flurry of action, all at once, as the secret guards which Kylo brought along with the two of you suddenly pour down from the rafters. Chaos, pandemonium, screaming people both in the circus troupe and the audience are everywhere as the guards begin capturing these abusers.

Kylo looks to you for guidance, and is thrilled to see bloodshed in your eyes.

“Kill them.” You say in Kylo’s ear, and he echoes the sentiment louder, you slipping out of his grasp as you run down the steps towards the stage, careful not to trip in the blood which now spills hot and thick.

You approach the animals with caution, with care, for they are frightened as you approach them. They have a lifetime of hurt and harm from hands which look like yours, so you hold your hands out to them in a nonthreatening way, lower your head for them, kneel on the ground at their mercy. On your hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor, you bow your head and pray to the goddesses of wilderness and animals, ask for their help in freeing these creatures, in delivering swift punishment to those who should cheer at their pain.

They must have heard you, the goddesses, for when you lift your head, it is the animals which now bow. The elephants, the horses, donkeys and camels all taking one knee in respect to you, the birds lower their heads and do not flutter their wings, and as you blink slowly to show your respect for them, so do the tigers.  

“You are free to go wherever you might wish,” You speak to them, not knowing if they can understand you at all, not knowing if they know what you’ve done for them. “If you stay here, you will surely be captured again.”

“They’re listening to you.” Kylo whispers, approaches you cautiously. The animals do not move, but he does not risk going any closer.

“Kylo what shall we do, we cannot risk future harm.” You are nearly in tears with the way there are healed scars on their sides, in their flesh. 

“Tell them they are welcome to live at the palace, on the grounds. They will be sacred, they will not be harmed.” Kylo says, and the animals turn their gaze towards him.

“They hear you too.” You whisper in amazement, with a smile. 

And then, as if in response, one young tiger steps forward from the rest. Her mane is dull and her blue eyes are cloudy, and you wish more than anything that you had something to offer her. She does not ask for offerings though, instead, she circles around you and Kylo, getting a good look at you. You do not fear her eating you, for she would have done so already were she in the mood. No, instead when she completes her circle, she lays on the ground before you, head resting atop crossed paws.

You step closer to the tiger, place your hand on her large forehead, and ever so carefully, pet back the short striped fur.

“I shall name you Goliath, so that you will grow up to be big and strong, and your teeth will grow long and sharp, and you shall never want for anything.” You whisper to her, to them all, to the goddesses who shine favorably down upon you.

Goliath’s eyes close, and her spotted ears fold back, and this seems to be some sort of signal, for all at once there is a cacophony of noise – the rest of the tigers roar loud from their chests, the elephants blare their trumpets, the horses and donkeys neigh, the birds squawk.

And now, many years later, your promise to your dear friend has come true. Goliath’s fur is thick and glossy, she wears a collar, not a chain, made of gold and precious stones. She shreds apart the men which harm others the way men have harmed her. 

She follows you about and protects you from everything, from anything that could pose a threat. She swims in the pools with her tiger family and all the animals live in harmony at the palace, all of them having made the decision to journey away from Corellia to Naboo.

“I am not worthy of this, of your presence, I am not worthy.” He kisses your ankles, whispers the words into your bone. The temple is sealed away just for you two tonight, and though he speaks softly, the words are loud in the room, the vast space, your shrine. He rubs his cheek against the tops of your feet, “I cannot believe I have found you, they have led me to you.”

“I’m all yours, I was made for you, and you, me.” You beckon him up, and he rises on unsteady legs as you offer a hand to him which he happily takes. You lead him through the temple, back behind the altar to a hidden room, where a small bed is laid out surrounded by a thousand softly burning candles. “They have brought us together so that we may stay together always, my beloved Emperor.”

You lay yourself down upon the bed, and Kylo begins immediately his ritual of worship, the way his hands reach for the sacred oils which have been kept liquid and warm by the fire of the candles.

“Divine, you are divine, you are heaven here on earth, here beneath my hands.” His hands shake with devotion, but he does not let a single drop of oil spill before smearing it from your clavicle down towards your belly button, three fingers drawing a broad line, voice catching and breaking in his throat, “I cannot scarcely touch you, these hands are not worthy of your holy skin.”

“Touch me, Kylo. Touch every inch of me, leave no piece unturned.” You lick your lips and relax your body for him to lavish attention upon. You smile, eyes closing as his hands move with your permission, “Touch me, I command you.”

You wear no clothes, but your body is decorated with golden jewelry. Chains wrap around your ribs and your throat, framing your breasts beautifully. Golden armbands are snug around your upper arms, your wrists adorned with bracelets and your fingers covered in jeweled rings. From your ears hang hoops of the metal, a single large fresh water pearl from the oceans of Naboo dangling from them.

Kylo tips out more sacred oil, oils which have been blessed by the sun and the stars, the goddesses have shone down upon it, have imbued it with their wisdom, with their strength. Kylo can feel it, can feel that strength as he moves it over every part of you, every single spot covered and slicked up by the oil.

“Stars above, you are so warm, so sweet.” His voice shakes, trembles, eyes glistening with tears for he is sure this must be a dream, this must be, with the way your legs spread so nicely for his fingers, the way your pussy opens up for him as he softly rubs his fingers through the hair above your crotch, “May I taste you? Oh please, please allow me to taste you.”

“Every inch of me, Kylo, my skin misses the feeling of your lips upon it.” You nod, your hands guiding his head down between your legs.

His grip on you is slippery, but eager enough that it doesn’t matter. He licks through your folds easily, slowly, carefully. You know he won’t spend much time down there, not yet, not now, not when there’s the whole rest of your body which must be tended to, but you don’t want to deny him this, this taste. His eyes close and he hums happily, groans into your cunt in a way that tickles, that makes you sigh happily even as he pulls away.

“Will you eat the fruit from my hand?” He asks, and you smile with how diligent he is in all things pertaining to you.

“I will.” You nod, and he plucks a vine of grapes from a bushel which has been given as offering, holds the bunch above your head and watches as you bite the grapes one by one, watches as your teeth split the skin and juice trickles down your chin, watches as your throat bobs as you swallow.  

“Will you drink the wine from my tongue?” Kylo asks, putting the grapes down.

“I will.” You nod once again, and he fills his mouth with a swig of honeyed wine, leans over to you and kisses you, lets the wine flow into your mouth and groans when you swallow that down too.

“Will you accept the love I have to give?” His voice trembles against your lips and he situates himself above you, his cock hard in his trousers that he dare not free until you give the word.

“I will.” You wind your glistening arms around his bare shoulders and he falters for a moment with love, with affection, with adoration, with worship, and you can feel it all, can feel every ounce of it seep into your pores.

“You will?” He asks, and this isn’t part of it, this is just him, just Kylo.

“Always.” You nod, opening your hips up for him and arching your back with the way his cock presses gently yet firmly against your folds.

He gasps out loud when he sinks in, when your body gives way for him in that secret room in your temple, the temple which he constructed so that all may worship you the way he does, so that all may pray to your name, your face, the way he does.

You are so tight, hot and wet and velvety around his cock, and you moan while he gasps out his pleasure, grunts through it as his hips move in soft slow undulations, sweet rolls of his pelvis against yours. This is not hard and fast fucking, no, no this is reverence.

He makes love to you for as long as it takes for you to both shudder out and call one another’s name, and when this happens he is sobbing, the tears flowing and beading up upon your oiled skin, joining together in small puddles in the crook of your neck as he comes and comes and comes inside you.

“Thank you – oh stars, thank you thank you thank you.” He sobs, for he knows he is not worthy, not worthy of this, and yet here you are, wanting him anyway, giving him this anyway, taking your pleasure from him anyway.

“Shh, you are the king, my emperor, take what is yours, you are so good to me, the goddesses will be good to you.” You whisper in his ear, pet his hair back and ride out the high of your own orgasm.