All hours are thirsting hours

Dorn should be out of bed by now. A small chronometer hummed softly, out of sight but not inaudible to him. He could hear the tiny power source humming as it tracked the time, the soft glow radiating from their side of the bed. They needed it far more than him.

Still, he should have gotten up thirteen minutes ago. He should be dressed, face shaven, boots laced. He should have already kissed their temple, fixed their blaket, and set their alarm to a delay. There was always work to do, but they had more than earned the rest.

He should be and, yet, here he was. Laying on his back, his arm wrapped around them, hand resting over their beating heart. Their smaller, softer body pressed against his side, pressed and molded against him, their hand resting on his chest.

He didn’t want to get up yet. He’d had a rare dream, a very pleasurable one. He’d woken aroused, his hearts beating harder than ususal. He could have retreated and taken care of it, purely to avoid waking them, as he should. Or, ignore it until later, when it was a far more suitable hour.

Instead, he laid here, staying in late, cock still hard, thinking of every slight dip and curve of their body. They’d gone to bed nude - a common occurrance, especially when they’d made love only the night before and their warmth radiated off of them, trapped by the shared blanket. He could still feel their soft, strong thighs in his hands as he folded them back in half.

He licked his lips, mouth oddly dry. He should get up. He should take care of this ache himself. He should leave them to rest…

They let out a soft sigh and rolled away from him, earning a deep frown from him. They settled down, though, the blanket following the gentle curve of their back and shoulders, settling over the small of their back. One leg bent up and they let out a slow exhale, breathing in deeply.

He should leave them alone. He should get ready. He should take care of his own problem.

Instead, he guided their blanket down and to the side, exposing the plump, relaxed meat of their ass, their thighs spread and revealing the space between their thighs. His tongue slid out, the taste of last night still in his mouth. His cock twitched as he reached out, rubbing the side of their leg.

The bed dipped as he settled atop them, his cock hanging fat and heavy between his legs. His eyes darted to the side, staring at their chronometer. It continued to whirr almost silently, cutting through the darkness. He reached out, deft fingers stalling the alarm for its designated time.

He gave his cock a slow stroke in a thick palm and tilted his hips down, settling himself between their thighs. He eased their thighs close, a slow exhale leaving him as their soft warmth embraced his cock. Even through his cock, he could feel the stretch marks.

Exhaling slowly, he lowered himself and started thrusting slowly. He rocked his hips back and forth, eyes closing as he bowed his head low. Their thighs were soft, almost silken, the stretch marks a wonderful texture to his cock. The heat of their genitals, now trapped against his cock.

Lowering himself on his forearms, he pressed soft kisses to their bare shoulder. They breathed slowly, their eyes fluttering as they drifted between sleep and wakefulness. They weren’t all softness and soft skin, small scars littered their body, muscles at rest but not entirely unseen. They were his and they were perfect.

He thrust between their thighs slowly, kissing their skin within reach. They made a soft noise and his eyes softened when theirs met his. Pressing his lips to their shoulder, he mumbled, “Forgive me for disturbing you. Just lie still for me.”

They made a soft noise and arched their ass back against him, crossing their arms under their head. They exhaled heavily, mumbling under their breath, a soft, “It’s fine…” Their lips quirked slightly and he pressed his nose against their shoulder, breathing in against their skin.

He continued his slow pace, eyes closing as he breathed heavily against them. Their thighs were so soft, especially relaxed as they were. The stretch marks were an added bonus, the uneven texture rubbing against his cock. The thick veins under the skin of his cock pulsed gently in time with his pulse.

His hot breath fanned over their skin and he quickened his pace, thrusting into the trapped warmth of their body. Thick cum dripped from the tip, beading and smearing across their thighs, slicking their skin. It eased his path and he ran his hand over their side, palming their hip and thigh. He pressed their thighs together, huffing against them.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed softly in the room, overpowering the tiny power source of the chronometer. His heavy sack hit against their thighs with every deep thrust. His own seed dripped and smeared over their skin, smoothing the way.

He slowed his pace again and pulled free of their thighs, pressing his cock against their ass as he spilled over their back. Their skin twitched at the sensation and he groaned low in his throat, rocking back and forth, enjoying the plush feeling of their ass. He pressed his blunt nose into their hair, breathing in deeply as his cock twitched.

They breathed in deeply, mumbling, “Better clean me.”

He smiled, kissing the curve of their ear. “I will. Thank you, my love.”

They muttered a soft ‘you’re welcome’, breathing slowing down again. He was glad he hadn’t disturbed them too much. He pressed another soft kiss to their shoulder, pulling back slowly.

​Statistically, a spontaneous genetic aberration of this magnitude should have plateaued or resulted in a population bottleneck due to the sheer metabolic cost. The fact that these phenotypes not only persist but maintain an aggressively stable equilibrium within the global gene pool suggests a powerful vector of unnatural transmission.

The most telling aspect, however, is the sheer structural precision of the dual-glandular pheromonal pathways and synchronized estrus cycles. It bears the unmistakable hallmark of the Master of Mankind’s genetic handiwork.

You theorized the entire species-population was an active test bed, an isolated crucible where He engineered a viral vector to achieve permanent germline integration. The hyper-endocrine states and rigid physiological stratification aren’t random, they are a highly calculated experiment in hardcoded compliance, utilizing a syn—

The civilized thought was violently torn away, swallowed whole by the sudden, red-hot roar of your hindbrain.

​You didn't decide to move, the reptilian core of your nervous system took total control of your flesh before your conscious mind could even begin to ask why. Your fingers ripped into the hilt of your dagger as your spine instantly locked into a defensive coil, mid-step.

​Only then did the air reach your lungs before it quickly died, curdling into something thick and sticky in your lungs, like wet wool.

A crushing pressure slammed into your chest—an alpha presence so violently absolute it made the hair on your flesh stand on end. The catecholamine rush was palpable as it dumped through your veins. Your omega instincts screamed at you to run, to bare your neck, to present like good prey.

You crushed the urge viciously and kept walking at the same measured pace, hand still heavy on the pommel of the blade.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind you. Deliberately. Each one vibrated straight through the stone floor.

You stopped, turned, and faced him.

Vulkan stood at the far end of the corridor, silhouetted by the faint magma-glow of the chamber behind him. He was immense. Even from 50-yards away, the sheer scale of him stole breath from your lungs.

Wearing only a loin cloth and bare from the waist up after long hours at the anvil, his obsidian skin glimmered with sweat. Every breath he took made the thick slabs of muscle across his chest and shoulders shift like living armor.

He didn’t speak at first. He simply stared.

You felt the crimson gaze drag over your body like a physical touch. Your heart hammered so hard you were certain he could hear it. Fear, electric and exhilarating, flooded all five of your senses. This was no mortal alpha. This was Vulkan. The strongest of the Primarchs. A living volcano. One wrong move and he could end you without even meaning to.

So you lifted your chin and gave him your coldest, most defiant smile.

“Following me now, Lord Vulkan?” Your voice echoed cleanly off the stone. “How very undignified for a Primarch.”

He took one step forward. Then another. The temperature in the corridor rose noticeably.

“I have been patient,” he rumbled, voice low and tectonic. “I have given you every opportunity to accept the old rites with dignity. Instead you mock them. No, you mock me. In public.”

You let out a low scoff, and took a step toward him instead of away. “Because they are archaic barbarism dressed up as tradition. And you…” You let your gaze rake deliberately over his colossal frame. “You keep pretending you’re above them while your scent betrays you every time I’m near.”

Vulkan’s jaw flexed. A muscle ticked in his thick neck. He took another step, now close enough that the heat rolling off his body washed over you like an open fire-pit. His scent continued to bombard you in waves, mutating the longer you stood in his space.

The initial strike was pure Nocturne, carrying dry static notes of scorched stone. But as his heat bled into the air between you, the scent bled with it, thickening into the rich tang of molten metal before finally giving way to its true, dominant core.

And it didn't stop. It continued to unravel into a heavy, dark alpha musk so dense you felt it on your tongue. Your thighs clenched involuntarily as a rush of slick threatened to spill.

Don’t show it. Don’t you dare show it.

“I am trying to be better than the old ways,” he said, almost to himself. His massive hands flexed at his sides. “I have died and returned for the sake of humanity. I will not become a slave to base instinct… not even for an omega who taunts me at every turn.”

You stepped even closer, now within arm’s reach, and looked up at him with open challenge. The top of your head barely reached the bottom of his abdomen. The size difference was dizzying.

“Then maybe you’re not as strong as they say,” you whispered, voice laced with venom. “Maybe the great Vulkan is terrified that if he touches me, the noble mask will crack and everyone will see exactly what kind of alpha you really are underneath.”

For three long, agonizing double-heartbeats, nothing happened.

Vulkan’s flaming eyes bored into yours, dilating until the deep black of his pupils swallowed his stare entirely. His massive frame seemed to swell, his chest heaving with deep, ragged drafts of air that left his lips parted, baring the white line of his teeth.

You watched the noble protector war with the ancient drake inside him, watching his civil facade fracture from the inside out. A violent tremor rippled through his massive shoulders as the dense musculature of his upper body locked down. Deep within the meat of his chest, a telluric rumble took root.

Then you twisted the knife:

“Or maybe you’re just too weak to take what you want.”

The snap was instantaneous.

A savage roar tore out of him as centuries of control shattered. One enormous hand seized your waist and lifted you clean off the floor as if you weighed nothing. Your back slammed against the warm stone wall hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Enough,” he snarled, voice no longer human.

You locked every muscle in your face, refusing to let the spike of raw panic show. Instead, you glared straight into his molten red eyes and sneered.

“I’m not scared of y—”

He cut you off with a brutal motion. His other hand ripped your remaining clothes away in one savage tear. The stale air kissed your bare skin for only a millisecond before the incandescent heat of his body engulfed you.

Vulkan curled you upward with terrifying strength, folding your body almost in half against the wall. Your thighs were wrenched wide around his waist before he crushed them together, trapping the searing, impossibly thick length of his cock between them. The underside of his massive shaft nestled perfectly into the cleft of your ass, dragging over your perineum and forward through the tight, slick channel of your pressed thighs. The burning head slid all the way up your soft belly, smearing your own traitorous omega slick and his heavy pre-cum across your skin.

A broken groan tore out of him.

No. No—no—no. This is wrong. They are my mortal. My duty is to protect—

The noble thoughts were immediately obliterated, swallowed whole as the alpha drive ruptured from the deepest trenches of his mind like a hydrothermal vent fracturing the seabed.

Omega. Defiant. Mine. Breed. Claim what the fire has given you.

“I should not do this,” Vulkan snarled aloud, voice wrecked. His forehead dropped against the stone beside your head as his hips rolled in a slow, devastating thrust. The entire calid length of his cock dragged through the tight sleeve of your thighs and ass, the heavy head gliding well past your sternum. “I am Vulkan. I endured death itself. I am not… I will not become this.”

Yet he didn’t stop.

He clamped your thighs even tighter around his girth with one enormous hand, the other sliding down your lower back to cant your hips upwards, keeping you perfectly folded and helpless, feet dangling uselessly in the air. Every powerful stroke ground him from the cleft of your ass all the way up your stomach into your ribs — he was using your entire lower body like a living toy.

​A sick, shameful heat detonated deep in your gut, tangling violently with your terror. He was too fucking big. Your mind convulsed at the sheer physics of it. If he shoved himself inside you here, right now, he would stretch you to the point of tearing.

He would have to split your anatomy open just to make room for his mass.

There was nowhere inside your flesh for your organs to retreat; he would fill you until you choked on him.

The musk pouring off his skin continued to hit the deepest parts of your brain, turning your vision glassy as your lower body betrayed you completely, weeping another shiny, pathetic stream of moisture that slicked between the both of you.

You dug your nails into his thighs hard enough to draw glowing orange blood and hissed, “Then stop pretending to be noble and just rut me like the beast you are, my lord.”

Vulkan’s entire body shuddered. A savage growl ripped out of his chest as the last chains of his restraint snapped.

“Damn you,” he snarled, hips suddenly slamming forward harder. “Damn you for making me want this.”

His rhythm turned brutal. He rutted against your curled-up body with renewed, barely controlled power.

​“I swore... to be the protector,” he choked out, his flaming eyes burning down into yours as he delivered a massive, hip-snapping thrust right between your knees, the sheer girth of him stretching the skin of your thighs. “I swore... to hold the line... against the monster.”

​He rocked back, the dark obsidian of his knuckles tautening into smooth, glossy glass as his grip locked like a hydraulic, forcing himself to stay back, to not breach the tight, weeping heat waiting just below him. Then he drove forward once more in a desperate, friction-heavy strike.

​“But you—”

​He ground hard against your slicked thighs.

​“—You are the catalyst.”

​Another heavy, breathless slide.

​“You smell of the sacred flame.” He hammered against your closed legs, picking up the pace, his breathing a scorched hiss. “So narrow... so slick... yet you dare... look at me... with war in your eyes.”

Another heavy, unyielding plunge buried him into your soft flesh.

“You’re mine.”

His grip tightened, crushing your thighs somehow even harder around his throbbing length as he lost himself in the sensation of you. The searing heat of his cock was almost unbearable, every vein and ridge dragging over your most sensitive places with relentless friction.

Inside his mind the war still raged, even as his body betrayed him:

They are not livestock. They are a person. They loathe this tradition—

They are dripping all over my cock. Their omega body was made for an alpha this strong. Push inside. Knot them. Fill them until they break.

Vulkan’s breathing was ragged now, deep growls punctuating every savage grind.

He pressed his forehead harder against the stone, trembling with the last remnants of resistance.

“Tell me to stop,” he snarled, voice desperate and broken even as his hips kept ruthlessly using you. “Tell me now, little omega… before I lose what remains of my honor and take you completely.”

His thrusts grew more violent, the wet slap of skin against skin filled the vaulted hall as the noble Primarch fought, and failed, to hold back the beast within.

A guttural roar tore from his chest as he rutted against you with savage abandon. His colossal hips slammed forward with enough power to jolt your entire body against the wall.

And you... your body had stopped processing sensation correctly.

Heat blurred into pressure. Pressure dissolved into instinct. Somewhere beneath the suffocating flood of pheromones and friction, your higher reasoning was beginning to fragment at the edges.

You understood with sudden horror why omegas submitted.

Not weakness.

Exhaustion.

“Emperor's blood—” he snarled, voice completely wrecked, deep and guttural. “I can feel your hole winking against my cock, greedy little ember. Sucking on me every time I thrust.”

He folded you even tighter, knees nearly at your shoulders, your body bent in half like scrap metal under a hammer. One massive hand twisted your thighs together so tightly around his girth that the pressure made his cock bulge obscenely between them. The other hand slid down the hiked curve of your spine, over your hip, until it engulfed the entire length of your thigh, lingering only to radiate heat throughout your entire core before indulgently pressing his thumb into the sensitive cleft above your hamstrings. Dangerously close to the tight ring of muscle below. He grabbed a whole palmful of the generous flesh and began kneading. His grip was so massive you rocked with every grope as he found new ways to mold your cheeks around him further. He couldn't help but admire the way the fat and muscle spilled out from between his fingers while the rest of your entire lower body was used as his righteous cocksleeve.

Schlap. Schlap. Schlap.

Mind breaking sounds filled the corridor as he rutted like a feral drake in full heat. His massive cock pistoned between your pressed thighs and ass, the heavy shaft grinding roughly through the tight channel he forged. Your slick was pouring out of you now, flooding down his length, coating his balls, and dripping in thick rivulets onto the stone floor.

Your eyes wavered. Vision blurring at the edges from the overwhelming sensation and scent pouring off him.

You could barely think anymore.

Your own omega signature flooded the subterranean air in sweltering waves. It was sweet and heavy with ash. Vulkan inhaled it like a dying man and lost what little sanity he had left.

“Throne— yes,” he snarled, nostrils flaring, crimson eyes wild and glazed. “That’s it. Flood the corridor with your scent. Drown me in it. You hate it, don’t you? Hate how wet your greedy hole is for your Primarch’s cock. Hate how good it feels when I use you like this.”

His cock throbbed violently between your thighs, the ridges catching and dragging against your raw nerves with every frenzied stroke.

“I should be ashamed,” he growled, voice cracking into something unhinged. “I should be on my knees begging your forgiveness… but I can’t stop. You feel too good... Do you understand what you are doing to me?” Vulkan rasped. “I have held dying worlds together with steadier hands than these.”

Another brutal grind. His balls, heavy and tight, slapped against your back with wet, meaty sounds. Sweat rolled down his obsidian chest and dripped onto your skin, mixing with the mess between you.

Your scent kept pouring out stronger with every thrust. You hated it. You hated how helpless and aroused it made you feel.

Vulkan fucking loved it.

He buried his face against the side of your neck, inhaling greedily, tongue scorching then laving over your pulse as he kept rutting like a madman. “More,” he snarled against your skin. “Give me more of that scent. I want the entire mountain to smell how badly you need my cock. How badly you need to be fucked raw and knotted until you can’t even remember your own name—”

His rhythm turned erratic, desperate, hips snapping with terrifying strength, muscles flexing and bulging as he fought the final urge to impale you.

“Do you know what Nocturne teaches its sons?” Vulkan murmured against your throat. The sudden calmness in his voice made your pulse stutter.

“Control is the only thing that separates strength from cruelty.”

His hips jerked violently against you.

“And I am losing it.”

Vulkan’s voice dropped into a dark, pleading growl right against your ear:

“Tell me to stop, little flame… or spread your legs wider and beg your Primarch to ruin you properly. Because I’m so close to saying fuck my oaths and forcing every last inch inside you.”

The stone behind you cracked.

A hairline fracture split through the obsidian wall beside your head from the force of his restraint alone.

Vulkan froze when he saw it.

For the first time since he touched you, genuine horror crossed his face.

“Emperor…” he breathed, realizing another inch of lost control would have killed you.

His massive body trembled with the effort of holding back that final line, unable to fully stop himself from grinding against your soaked flesh.

You hardly noticed.

Because you were breaking.

The relentless drag of his monstrous cock between your thighs, the burning texture of every gene-forged ridge, the obscene sounds, and the suffocating alpha scent were tearing you apart. Tears of overwhelming sensation and humiliated arousal stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You refused to break so easily.

You hated how good it felt.

You hated yourself more for what you did next.

With a shaky, furious breath you wrenched your hips up even more, practically inviting the brutal slide of his cock even deeper into the cleft of your ass. The new angle made the shaft grind harder against your entrance on every pass.

You glared up at him through your lashes, voice raw but still laced with venom.

“Is this the legendary fire of Nocturne?” you spat, voice cracking as another heavy thrust dragged every textured inch across your core. “The strongest of the Emperor’s sons reduced to grinding his cock between a mortal’s thighs like some desperate ash-whelp in heat? Pathetic.”

Vulkan’s pupil-blown eyes flashed with something wild and delighted. A dangerous chuckle rolled through his chest even as his hips slammed forward harder, folding you tighter.

“You vicious little ember,” he growled, voice like tectonic plates shifting. “Still spitting sparks while your body weeps molten slick down my shaft. Most omegas would be broken and babbling by now. But not you.”

​He adjusted his leverage, burying his fingers deep into the soft tissue of your outer thighs until the tips bit against your femurs, gathering your lower body into a single, helpless cylinder. He leaned his entire transhuman bulk into you, bracing his forearm against the cracked stone above your head until you were pinned beneath the sweltering shelf of his chest. Every restrained roll of his hips carried the weight of carnal force barely contained beneath volcanic stone. The sheer intensity forced your traitorous body to weep slick just to protect your skin from being scorched raw by his transit.

You let out a choked moan that you tried to turn into a sneer. Tears finally slipped free.

“Keep pretending then,” you hissed, squeezing your thighs even tighter in open challenge, daring him. “Keep playing the noble forgemaster while you soak me in your pre-cum. We both know the truth, Vulkan. You’re terrified that if you actually push inside me, you’ll never want to leave. That this proud Primarch will become nothing more than a mindless breeding drake for one sharp-tongued mortal.”

Vulkan’s rhythm finally faltered for half a second. Then he snarled, and slammed his hips forward with restored savagery.

“Terrified?” he rasped, leaning down until his burning forehead nearly touched yours. His breath seared your cheeks. “No, little flame. I’m reveling. I have slain leviathans and walked through death’s own forge, yet nothing has ever tested my restraint like you.”

He pulled back only to ground the thick, ridged crown of his cock hard against your entrance, stretching the tight ring threateningly before dragging it back up between your thighs with a sodden sound.

“When I finally claim you,” he growled, voice dropping into some horrible and ancient register, “I will forge your body around me so completely the mountain will remember your screams. I will stretch that tight, stubborn hole until it molds to the shape of my cock alone. You’ll feel empty for weeks afterward… aching for the only alpha strong enough to fill you.”

His thrusts grew faster, more erratic, the blistering heat of his shaft rubbing you raw in the most exquisite way. Your defiant tears kept falling, but your gaze stayed locked on him.

Vulkan’s eyes burned with wild joy as he watched you fight to hide how badly you needed him.

“Keep fighting me,” he snarled, lips brushing your ear. His next words came even quieter, which somehow, frightened you more.

“You have no idea how long I have denied this.”

His hips stilled against you for the first time since he had pinned you to the wall. The sudden absence of motion felt almost unbearable.

“If I lose control completely…” The words emerged slowly, forced through the same pressure that kept volcanoes dormant. “Your body may not survive the claiming instinct.”

The confession hung between you in the heat-thick air.

Vulkan shut his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

“And the most shameful part,” he admitted softly, “is that some part of me still wants to risk it.” His hand flexed against your thigh. He drew back and then pressed the swollen head of his cock against your entrance once more, holding it there with agonizing restraint.

“So go on then, little flame,” he murmured.

His burning gaze lifted to yours again.

“Insult me one more time… and see what your Primarch becomes.”

---------------to be continued?--------------

Tysm for reading (*´ω｀*) ... i am ridiculous.

A/n: Hello, more mean men are coming and mournival frat au enemies-to-something-else has eaten through my brain like a prion. School is so hard but im regressing so good. Silver linings?

“Roboute, my dearest son,” she starts, somehow still managing to give him a wisened, chastising look as though he was a toddler once more from many, many feet below him, “we need to talk.”

He takes a seat solemnly. 

Tarasha was never typically this serious or frank with him, instead opting for a gossiping or political approach which had taught him greatly over the years, learning to search for the meaning in other’s words and such.

So, it must have been extremely serious. 

Requiring of his full attention.

“I’m fed up, and as your mother I’ve had enough - you need to court that woman and you’re starting today.”

What.

How did she- 

He can feel his face start to burn as he tries desperately to formulate a response.

It’s not as if he hadn’t tried to court you! 

It’s just that every time he went to speak with you something in his brain stuttered that he couldn’t quite work past. He could not deny that you had optimal aesthetic attraction to him, but there were plenty of beautiful women on Macragge - it wasn’t that which had captured his attention. 

You were confident, but you were not confident without competence. Suave, charming and charismatic without being cocky or completely audacious. You were a woman who knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it - and most refreshingly without being an obnoxious snob. 

You were disastrously intoxicating. 

He hadn’t yet found a way to broach the topic to his adoptive mother, and the fact she had instead noticed from his behaviour was even more alarming to him, his blush steadily spreading out to his ears.

Did that mean you had noticed too?

Tarasha politely sips her tea while he takes a moment to compose himself, allowing him to clear his throat before speaking, “I will admit I have attempted courtship… but have not been reciprocated.”

She hums to herself for a moment, setting down her cup.

“How did you do it?,” she questions slowly, “If you would humour me for a moment.”

Just when he thought he had recovered you fill his thoughts again with the way you looked the day he decided to finally approach you.

Beauty and grace as always, but with a hint of boldness. You’d done a traditional look as was expected of you but woven fresh blooms through your hair to create an intricate weave that was somehow delicate and brazen in its design. Rebellion against the gems and jewels that were expected of you and yet pulling it off flawlessly.

Not to mention the soft floral scent it gave you as you walked by…

He recalled the way he’s resolved himself to finally speak with you properly, not just passing generic conversation of work or politics in a formal setting but personally. 

Theoretical: greetings, then appropriate and relevant compliment.

Practical:

“Salutations, the arrangement of your hair is aesthetically optimal,” he repeats back what he had first said to her, but for some reason this time it sounds wrong the second it leaves his lips - perhaps it was the disapproving look it made on his mother’s face?

She drags a hand down her face good naturedly suppressing her chuckles, “Ah, young love - it’s like you’re still just my little boy all over again, now let’s run through your etiquette.”

His second attempt at inviting you on a date is far more successful - after his mother’s tutelage of course, and evidenced by your acceptance of his proposition.

A private sailing trip, captained by himself, onto the Pharamis Ocean, not too far of course, but far enough to allow you both some privacy and a trip away from the hustle and bustle of life on Ultramar. 

Tarasha had decided to personally pick out his dress for him for the occasion too - a quality, if simple, white robe accented with gold and blue trim, and simple sandals, with his hair laying in looser tousled curls. Tasteful yet still casual.

He’d tastefully decorated the boat too, with a little help once more, with the same fresh flowers he’d seen you wearing, light and gauzy coverings and even packing some refreshments for you both to enjoy while on the water.

The weather was perfect too, it was on a touch of the too high side of hot in the city, meaning the sea breeze would be perfect, and there was not a cloud in the sky for miles to be seen.

It also allowed him appropriate close proximity, though the very act of helping you onto the small boat was simultaneously exhilarating and daunting. You’d let him take your smaller hand in his and steady you aboard, affording him thanks and one of your winning smiles that made his gut flip.

Then you’d sat, lounged back with your legs crossed over and figure accentuated by the drape of your robes, looking across at him as he manoeuvred sails and pulleys to adjust course and start you out of the harbour.

It was an easy conversation for the ride out to the spot he’d picked out prior, a route he knew easily now from his practice runs. He could partially busy himself with the physical aspect of sailing too, having something that needed doing a calming balm to his racing mind and trembling hands.

It was something to look at that wasn’t into your electrifying eyes that always seemed to paralyse him.

Still, you lead the conversation while he works, but he contributed easily too, coaxing laughter and more as the docks grew smaller and smaller until they arrive.

“We have arrived, it’s the ideal location to settle - geometric views combined with calm waters and superior privacy.”

The ocean is spread wide before you now, endlessly blue and sparkling in the sun like millions of crystals, framed with perfect rays of light. Fresh spray mists the air around the boat. It was completely perfect, and all that was left was for your approval.

“I must admit, the view from here is absolutely phenomenal," Guilliman sighs a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, “… and I suppose the scenery is lovely too.”

There is no dignity to be found in the sounds he makes when his brain catches on to your words, following the exact trail of her gaze he’d been too focussed to notice before. 

Words are stuttered as his brain freezes - you were, you - he - 

Then somehow you were in front of him, stepping up from the seat and swaying slightly with the bob of the ship, looking up at him like you’d decided something. 

He gulps, wondering when the sun had become so hot on his face.

“You are many, many things, Roboute,” you start, “kind, intelligent, handsome, cute - but you aren’t particularly forward, so I suppose I will have to decide these things for the both of us.”

You finish by reaching up to grab his toga and pulling him down to meet you, claiming his lips still parted in surprise.

This kiss was soft and sweet, not too chaste but not too long either, just enough for him to get a breathless taste of you before you pulled away.

It was shattering to him - utterly addictive. 

The taste of you slightly tinged by the salty sea air and breeze. 

Then he kisses you, sweeping down from where you’d pulled back to capture you in return, but this time you deepen it, allowing a swipe of his tongue before pulling back for more air. 

Vulkan lingered around the familiar bay for a while, not yet content to leave the area. He tried to indulge himself in the others that arrived to mate and breed, but none were quite… suitable enough. A variety of mers came together, young and old, small and large, but none had soft legs with thick thighs, able to stretch and flex individually…

Warm, soft skin able to wrap around his hips, even. Fingers not tipped by claws or webbed together, stretching and flexing without interfering with each other. No slit hiding delicate organs for pleasure, but entirely external.

Others would like to call him a fetishist, that much he was sure of. He couldn’t deny the claim, especially when he was so fond of this one in particular. It would be more apt to say he was a fetishist of his human rather than humans in general.

Yes, he mused to himself, hard claws carving delicate designs into a pearl. He’d collected a handful of them - and he did wonder how much of his handful was twice of hers - and busied himself with cleaning them before setting to carving small designs onto them. Surely, she would like them even more.

His tongue dragged across his lips and he inhaled deeply, wishing to taste her again. She was so delicious. He had little taste or craving for blood, but hers had added a certain metallic flavor that had him hungering for more. Would she be willing to indulge him again? It was a monthly occurance, or so she said once. Bleeding like that once a month… he would be honored to be the one to taste her again.

He shifted his hips, keeping them partially pressed to the smooth rocks he laid on, the salt spray lapping over his tail. They’d met here a few times before, late after most of the humans had left, admiring the sunset and talking about their lives - so different, yet so similiar.

His ears twitched at the soft sound of her feet crunching the sand. Smiling, he set his collection of pearls down and pushed himself to sit up straighter, leaning on his forearm. She stepped onto the smooth rocks, one hand held out for balance.

She smiled when she saw him, waving her fingers. “I had a feeling you’d be here.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I would be. I’m happy to wait for you.”

She carefully approached him, taking his hand when he offered it and down with him. “What do you have?”

The small pearls clicked and clattered in his palm as he held them out, tilting his head. “A gift, for you.”

She cooed softly and held out her hands cupped together, letting him pour them gently into her palms. Rolling her thumb over the pearls, they sparkled in the soft sunlight, revealing their intricate little designs. “They’re beautiful, Vulkan.”

He smiled at her and reached out, cupping her cheek. His thumb rubbed over her cheek, careful of his claws to not scratch her delicate skin. “And, yet, they can never compare to you.”

Her cheeks flushed and she slid off the wrapped fabric around her waist to bundle her pearls safely. “Thank you.”

He didn’t let her go, even as she shifted away slightly. Instead, he pulled her closer and kissed her lips this time. She returned the kiss, resting her hands on his broad shoulders. He toyed with her damp hair with his fingertips, letting it tangle gently around his claws.

His lips still on hers, he murmured, “Would you let me…?” He let the words hang in the shared breath, red eyes warm as he admired her. His hand dragged down over her side, his thick thumb brushing over her thinly covered breast before skating down to tug at the waist of her bottoms.

She nodded quickly, reaching back to untie her top. His slit ached to open and free his cocks, her arousal thick and sweet. She all but tossed her minimal coverings off and reached out for him, kissing him deeply.

He smiled on her lips, his sharp teeth scratching the soft, plush skin. He was careful to not press as he guided her to lay down, his hands already exploring her body. It was true, he was obsessed with every inch of her soft body. Soft stretch marks were a pleasant texture against the hard meat of his palms and slight dimples guided his rough fingers to touch her lower.

“I want you,” she muttered against his lips. “Don’t make me wait.”

He chuckled softly, lifting his hips as he pressed his weight into his heavy tail, the thick muscle and fat within supporting him. His twin cocks extended out from his slit, hanging heavy and dripping with slick. “So eager,” he lightly teased, though he was no better than her.

She spread her legs wide, pushing a hand down to spread her lips and reveal her glitening, wet pussy. Tilting her hips towards him, pouting. “Come fuck me already, Vulkan.”

He nipped her pouting lip and pulled himself up the rock to press one cock to her pussy. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, rubbing it gently and coating her hand in the slick. His exhale was hot and heavy, gills on his neck flaring as he pushed the fat head into her.

It shouldn’t surprise him how easily he slipped in - she was wet and relaxed on her own and his cock was slick. Despite the sheer thickness, he slid in easily and his other cock bumped against her ass, rubbing along her soft skin. She moaned out softly as she was filled, tilting her hips to rub herself against him and try to draw him in deeper.

His brow furrowed as he felt himself stop short and she let out a pitched gasp. Immediately, his hand was on her face, cradling her. “Did I hurt you?” He was ready to pull out and try another way if he had.

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide as she grabbed onto his thick upper arms. “No! You’re just-,” she gasped, her walls squeezing around him, “so deep. Oh, you’re so deep…” Her words trailed off into a moan and she moved her hips, her feet braced against the rock as she ground herself against him.

He rocked his hips, pulling back before easing in. Again, he pressed against that harder spot inside of her and his eyes stayed on her face, watching for any flicker of pain. There was only pleasure, though, and he continued, setting a steady pace as he rocked back and forth.

He licked his lips, swallowing the pooling saliva in his mouth before he started drooling on her. That would be embarrassing, as though he was some young pup. His teeth itched to scrape against her skin, but the idea of intentionally drawing her blood would sit too heavy on his heart.

Her plump breasts jiggled and shook with every deep thrust and he lifted one hand, still bracing his upper half on his other forearm. His fingers teased her nipples, pinching and tugging them gently. She pressed into his hand, her nails pressing into the tough meat of his arms.

His hips moved at a steady pace, each thrust hitting her cervix hard. Her moaning continued, her hips jerking but not to pull away. She was pressing closer, trying to meet his thrusts and match his pace.

He drank in her soft moans, his eyes heavy and dark as he admired her flushed skin, her bouncing breasts, the shake of her stomach as he fucked her. With each thrust of his hips, he pushed in a little deeper and he could see how her stomach began to bulge out to fit him. Some drool landed on her collar and he licked his lips, an apology dead on his lips.

Fucking her harder, his pace quickened. His secondary cock rubbing against her soft thigh smeared thin, milky fluid there, dripping down to the rock she laid upon. She was so much softer than any mer, he knew he wouldn’t truly be satisfied with anyone except her.

She moaned loudly, uncaring if anyone heard her. Most of the beachgoers should have left by now - most people avoided the beach come mating season already - and he wasn’t going to try to silence her now. He loved to hear her moans and he rolled his hips with every thrust, ensuring she felt every inch of him.

She squeezed around him, shuddering and crying out his name as she came. His hips jerked and his pace slowed, gasping as she seemed to hold him in place. The world slowed to only them as he felt the tension of her inner body, the flexing of her muscles to keep him trapped.

He spilled into her, thick and milky seed pumping into her and across her thigh, both cocks emptying. He shuddered, jaw set tight to avoid biting her in claim. Enough of his conscious mind stayed just aware to not hurt her, no matter how much his instincts wanted him to.

His cocks twitched as they poured their loads, far too much for one human. She continued to moan softly, though, her cunt squeezing and twitching as she was filled with his seed. So much spilled out of her, pushing past his cock, but so much more slipped deeper into her, filling her very womb.

He moaned softly as he sank down on his forearms, blocking her in underneath his own heavier frame. Bowing his head, he pressed his lips to her skin, peppering kisses over her face with a hot exhale. She turned her face towards his, catching his lips for a slow kiss.

He let her catch her breath as he kissed her, pressing soft and sweet kisses to her lips. Her breathing slowed and her soft, warm hands began to wander over his chest, groping the relaxed muscle and thick fat. Her soft giggle vibrated against his lips and he smiled, kissing her gently.

Slowly, he began to rock his hips again. Now that she was even slicker and looser, he started to work himself deeper. Her eyes widened slightly and he smiled, keeping his thrusts steady. “You didn’t think only one round was in store for you, did you?”

She moaned softly, rocking her hips to meet his. “Oh, please… I can take you.”