His body aches, muscles sore from weeks on the battlefield, but the moment he sees you, all his pain vanishes. His white and gold armor rests against the foot of the bed; signs of war have no place in this sanctuary.

You beckon Marcus in the silence of his bedroom, lit only by candles that make the room glow an ethereal hue, while your supple body is wrapped in his cream-colored sheets like a bouquet. Your fingers find his as he climbs into the bed, interlocking like vines along a lattice as he lies beside you. He rests his laurel-crowned head on your lap like a child longing for warmth and compassion.

Marcus gazes up at you, his other half in this forsaken world, his goddess.

"You did well today." You praise, smiling down at him, remembering how regal he looked in the golden diadem as he gave another victorious speech to the crowd.

Marcus hums as you run your fingers around the golden leaves and through his curls. He allows himself to rest in your divine embrace, if only for a moment. Your heavenly harmony soothed his worn, remorseful soul.

"I do it all for you, my Lady." the General purrs, tenderly lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles.

Marcus's white tunic shifts as he rises to his knees and plucks the crown from his head. His curls bounce with the movement before he places the crown atop your own.

You timidly raise your hands, feeling the intricate design and the solid gold leaves as the crown sits heavy on your head, but he looks at you with awe.

"I've never seen such beauty in all my days." Marcus compliments like a man staring at the sunrise for the first time.

You were the shining beacon that kept him sane during the days of war, and he would make sure you knew the effect you had on him.

"My Empress," Marcus gently tugs the sheets, dragging the cotton down your body. He relishes your voluptuous form with a soft groan. "It's been too long since I gazed upon you." The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles as he trails his gaze from the tips of your toes to your gilded halo.

His hands burn. He flexes them at his sides as he hungers to feel your tenderness, warmth, and compassion. "My goddess."

Your face flames as your lashes flutter to the sheets, overwhelmed by Marcus' adoration. If he only knew that you'd happily drown in the wake of his love.  

A solid finger lifts your chin to meet his sober stare. "Do me the honor of watching me pour my devotion upon you."

A lithe gasp falls from your lips as he drops his hand and lightly cups your breasts. Worn and calloused, the hands of a known killer, though he's always so gentle with you, your nipples pucker as he skims each bud with delicate circles.

Your lips part with a gasp, chasing his hands when he withdraws. He chuckles at your panting breaths. "Do not fret. There is still much time to ravish you."

His mustache tickles your skin as he leans and sucks your left breast into his mouth. Tounging the pert bud, he brings succulent pleasure to the surface and a soft cry from your lips. He massages the right with expertise, kneading and pinching, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply until he has you squirming.

He strives to leave no spot unclaimed. He's a man of his word; nothing can stop him once he's begun. Stone walls and fleets of men wielding swords and canons cannot stop him.

Soft lips trace under the arc of your breasts before moving to your ribs. A mischievous tongue darts out at the curves, tasting the thin layer of salt on your skin.

"I'd sail across the ocean for you." he professes; the timbre of his voice is as deep as the sea.

A barrage of kisses presses to your waist and the softness that you carry. Marcus's stormy beard lightly grazes your skin as he makes his ascent, leaving pebbles in its wake.

"I'd fight my own army to get to you."

Your fingers card through his locks as he settles between your thighs, making room for himself and pushing your legs apart. He hooks them over his broad shoulders with a devilish smirk. A wry tongue licks a straight line from your pulsing opening to the crux of your mound, making you tug his hair with a wanton mewl.

Marcus stills, like a predator, having just sunk its claws into prey, and presses his scarred, aquiline nose into the soft curls that top your mound. His nostrils flare as your heady scent invades his senses. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he lowers his head, watching you from under his lashes. His once enchanted eyes have now become slivers of torrid black as he latches his teeth into your fleshy mound.   

You cry out from the impish bite, hips unconsciously grinding toward your lover as he unlocks his jaw and finally smothers your cunt with his mouth.

Your nerves sizzle from the immoral embrace as his tongue dances over your clit. Nimble fingers trace your sticky petals, dipping in and out of your hole, drawing more blood to fill your already throbbing folds. Your heart beats in time with the pounding of your lower half as Marcus takes his time to worship you.

"Seems my Lady enjoys my touch." He purrs— a slick, shiny grin plastered on his face.

Your body bends, curving sharply like a bow aimed and waiting for the charge. Marcus keeps you primed like the General he strived for ages to become. "Tonight, you will not want," he claims, notching two fingers at the opening of your core.

He holds your fiery stare as he presses into your soaked channel. Your head lolls, and your eyes flutter like butterflies as his thick digits widen your velvet passage.

"Always so good to me." Marcus coos, curiously curling his touch along the hidden ridges deep inside. His cock aches, soaking the sheets with his pearly spend, desperate to be inside you. "Letting me adore and worship as I please."

You want to hold him in your arms and repeat every word he praises back to him in a whisper, but Marcus is a man of his word; tonight is about you and only you.

His shoulders stop your legs from closing as a violent wave of pleasure rolls over you. A wicked laugh rumbles from the man as he suckles your inner thigh. "So close, my Lady. I can feel it." Marcus works his fingers in and out, driving you to the edge, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Slick, drenched kisses stain your skin, another sign of his devotion, as your limbs tangle even more with the stoic man. His rough hands easily hold you down as you wriggle in his grip. Your breathing escalates, and blood pulses in your ears as the eager desire to come consumes you.

"Yes, my Love, take what I give you," Marcus begs, thrusting his weeping cock against the bed in time with his fingers, working you higher and higher.

Marcus wraps his lips around your clit, suckling and swirling the tiny bud until you're chanting his name. He tortuously hooks his fingers onto the spot behind your clit, forcing you to swell and explode into a mass of sparkling particles.

The moment your eyes blink open, having floated back down from your glorious high and into the comfort of Marcus' bed, he notches his cock at your creamy opening and thrusts himself to the hilt.

Your jaw drops with a silent cry. It's devastating and empyreal but your body welcomes him home like always.

"Her embrace is so warm and tight. Like how I dreamt on all those lonely nights", Marcus groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

The image of Marcus touching himself in the darkness of his tent after a day of savagery makes your cunt quiver. The power you hold over this man is not to be taken lightly.

As you become one, your breasts press against his broad, dewy chest as he blankets your smaller frame and pushes you into the mattress with every cant of his hips, driving his length into the deepest depths.

Crescent moons pepper his freckled back as he shows you sights you've never seen, eliciting his name from your lips with a broken, gasping prayer. Your hold tightens around his bouldering shoulders, his thrusts gaining immense strength as the end closes in, shoving you up the bed.

Marcus noses your cheek, drawing your attention from the blissful heaven. "My Love," his hands encompass your face, from chin to temple, so cautiously, like he's holding a newborn. "I've never experienced such wonders than when I am inside you."

He continues to rock you in the safety of his arms and his bed, hurrying his thrusts when your eyes roll and your limbs become stiff. Marcus wants to meet the Gods with you and feel the rapture and glory as they carry you off into the heavens as one.

Marcus growls with bared teeth as he comes; his spine flexes as he spills his seed and fills you to the brim. He doesn't stop thrusting until his come is leaking onto the sheets, and your folds can no longer hold his offering.

You are his temple, and he will worship until the day he falls.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌