#cumbersmaug

"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"

She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.

"What is power, when I can never have your love?"

I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.

Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."

Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.

"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.

How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?

Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.

The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.

“Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"

She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.

"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."

"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."

Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.

"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."

"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"

Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.

"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.

"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."

Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.

Love.

Sacrifice.

A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.

"Use my heart. Bring him back."

"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"  

"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.

"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.

"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."

Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.

"No, my son. It is time I made things right."

Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.

"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."

You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."

She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.

Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.

"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.

"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."

You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.

Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.

"...Let's go home," you murmur.

Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.

"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."

You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.

"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"

From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.

"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.

"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"

You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.

"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."

Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.

"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.

"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.

Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.

"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.

"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.

"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"

You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."

He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."

"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."

Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.

His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.

"...How far are they...to the mountain?"

Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.

"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."

You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.

"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."

"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.

"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.

“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.

“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.

He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.

“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.

You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.

Across the lake, a white elk stares at Erebor in the distance, his heart empty but for a slight pang of unexplained emotion. He turns away, and heads home to Mirkwood.

Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. The Dark Lord lifts his hands, casting snarling shadows towards the elven prince. Anon throws herself before her son, gathering the shadows to her in a mad embrace.

“You have prevailed, Sauron,” Thranduil says slowly, stepping forward. “But it is not her you desire. It is the might of Mirkwood unified with a dragon that you want. Release her, and the might of Mirkwood is yours to command.” He falls to one knee, and offers his sword to Sauron.  “For her freedom, I pledge my allegiance to you.”

You stare in horror as the rest of Thranduil's men follow his lead, knees in the dirt and weapons in the air in surrender.

"There is no freedom, under the shadow of Mordor!" Cumbersmaug growls, eyes flashing. "You think surrendering the might of elves will keep her safe?"

Of course it will, Sauron purrs, his voice as soft as a blade across one's throat. The world will burn with the inferno of Mordor; all that stand against me shall be reduced to ash. Follow me, and the girl shall be spared. All that she loves will be spared.

"...Shall you stand by my side, and protect her?" Thranduil asks quietly, staring unflinchingly at Cumbersmaug. "...Or shall we perish here together?"

They stare at one another, the silence between them as heavy as death. Finally, Cumbersmaug closes his eyes, and jerks his head in a curt nod. In that instant, Thranduil leaps in the air and slashes down on the Dark Lord with violent hatred. On cue, Cumbersmaug yanks you away, shielding you with his body. His men whirl into formation, swords flashing, slicing away at the Dark Lord.

"You know nothing of Mirkwood elves, Sauron!" Thranduil hisses through clenched teeth as he hacks away mercilessly. "We will die before we surrender to evil!"

Sauron laughs, his form fading in and out like wisps of smoke. Then DIE!

A black thorn shoots from the sifting darkness, straight into Thranduil's heart. There is a shuddery gasp as he falls to his knees, staring disbelieving at the gaping hole in his chest. Then his eyes rolls back, and he falls over, lifeless.

"NO!" You scream, lunging for him, but Cumbersmaug holds you back. Legolas lets out gut-wrenching cry, and tries to grab a sword from one of the soldiers. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"...Give me the ring," Anon rasps at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"

Dazedly, Legolas hands her the ring. She slips the ring on her finger, and dark power crackles about her like fire. Cumbersmaug curses under his breath, and his arms tighten protectively around you. The Mirkwood elves back away in uncertainty, swords raised defensively.

Anon slowly turns towards the Dark Lord, green eyes gleaming.

"I have served you for many, many years, my Lord," she breathes. "I have given you my body, my soul. All I have asked for in return is your love. You do love me, don't you?"

Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.

All gods love their creations, no matter how wretched they may be. I have kept you alive, despite your many failures. Is that not testament enough?

Anon closes her eyes and lets out broken laugh.

"My son has taught me love to be unconditional sacrifice. I know now that neither you, nor I, will ever be capable of such true emotion."

With a shout, she directs a dark fireball into Sauron. There is a ear-splitting roar as Sauron dissipates into ash and is blown away.

"Is he gone?" Cumbersmaug demands sharply. Anon closes her eyes and shakes her head.

"You know He will awaken again, in time."

She kneels down, and carresses Thranduil's cold, white cheek.

"...Bring him back!" You shout, lips trembling. "That ring has the power-"

"-to bring back the dead? Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic. It is a broken, dead thing now." She holds out her palm. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey. "But I have no need of the ring. I know spells. Dark, terrible spells that can revive your precious king."

"Then do it!" you snarl angrily.

Anon bends down and takes Thranduil's dagger, tracing the sharp blade with her fingers. "Sacrifice. That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. "My heart is bound to his; he will live, if I give him my heart."

Your throat is dry as you watch her raise the dagger to her breast. "...You will die."

"Yes. But his heart will be mine, and he will never love you again."

Anon smiles cruelly. She pulls the dagger from Thranduil's sheath and examines the sharpness of the blade. "Unconditional sacrifice. He would give his life for yours. What would you give for his?"

"Anything," you say firmly, and Cumbersmaug grips your shoulders.

"I will not allow it!" He growls. "I will not have your sacrifice your life for another!"

"As if I would kill her and make her some sort of martyr for him to pine over for the rest of eternity," Anon snarled. "I merely ask for what is rightfully mine."

You stare at her uncomprehendingly, and she smiles cruelly.

"I will bring him back to life. In return, you disappear from his life forever. I will be Queen of Mirkwood, unhindered and unchallenged. I will resume being the singular light in his life, and you will be nothing but a distant memory."

Legolas staggers over and clutches at your arm, eyes red and frantic. "I cannot lose him," he pleads. "If you ever loved him, please..."

You close your eyes. You know you must let him go, if he is to live again. You lean down and kiss his forehead, whispering the words in your heart you never had the chance to say to him and never will have the chance to. Then you stand up and take Cumbersmaug by the hand.

"Let's go back to Erebor."

Thranduil woke with a horrible pain in his chest. Beside him lay Anon unconcious, a bloody mess at her chest.

Legolas: "Ada, she took a piece of her heart and placed it in your chest. It almost killed her, but we were able to revive her and you."

He staggers to his feet. "...What about the girl?"

"She's gone. She left with her dragon. Your wife risked her life for yours. Please don't speak of the human again. For my sake, please do not find her again."

Sometimes you feel as if you are being watched, catching a glimpse of a snowy white elk from the corner of your eye.

Did you think I would be so easily betrayed?

Thranduil's cry is choked by the gurgle of his blood.

He falls to his knees, his hand reaching out for you. Then he falls backwards, his eyes wide, his hair splayed about him like a halo. Then he is still, staring lifelessly at the skies above.

Your king. Your love.

Legolas is on his feet, brandishing his father’s elven blade. Anon yanks him back, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

"...Give me the ring," Anon screams at Legolas. "GIVE ME OROPHER'S RING!"

Dazedly, Legolas wrenches at his finger and presses the ring it on her palm. The emerald flashes black as Anon slides it onto a slender finger. For a second, she stands there, admiring the ring she had coveted for so long.

"Thranduil is gone. I have mothered his heir, and hold his father's ring of power. I claim Mirkwood as its rightful Queen."

"No!" You moan.

With her head held high, she surveyed the soldiers with coldly, daring them to challenge her. None did.

Sauron smiles, perfect teeth gleaming white.

You have done well, Anon. You shall be my queen, rule by my side. Together, we will raze Middle Earth and build a new world in its place.

"...Will we, now?" Anon closes her eyes and barks out a harsh laugh. "My dreams, my ambitions have withered and died. They have fallen rotten, their corpses festering in the glare of your might. For centuries I have let you sap me dry, allowed you to wring and ruin me. All I have ever done, I did for you. For what?"

She points Oropher's ring at Sauron, dark energy crackling down her hand.

"What is power, when I can never have your love?"

I love you as a dark star loves the shadows. As ash clings to dying embers. Name your heart's desire, and I will grant it a hundred times over.

Anon shakes her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I have tasted love, tasted it in the gleam of honeyed starlight, seen it reflected in the eyes of the now dead elven king. That is something you can never give me."

Dark energy shoots from Oropher's ring, and wraps around the Dark Lord like a coil of jagged thorns.

"...As I woke you from your slumber, I now send you back to sleep," Anon whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.

How dare you betray me? Do you not remember what I am capable of?

Raging winds sweep dust into a mad frenzy. The air rumbles like thunder, with ear-splitting cracks of electricity. And suddenly the Dark Lord is gone, reduced to smoke carried by the winds towards Mount Doom. He is asleep, biding His time to be awakened once more.

The relief is short-lived. Legolas runs to his father, pulling his cold body into his arms. You run to him, and fall to your knees.

Bring him back to life!" You shout at Anon, lips trembling. "Use Oropher's ring-"

She flings the ring at you. The wooden band is black and broken, the emerald a dull, milky grey.

"It is a broken, dead thing now. Banishing Sauron sapped it of all its magic."

"...No," sobs Legolas. "I would give my life, to bring him back..."

Anon's expression softens, and she gently clasps Legolas' shoulder.

"There are spells. Dark, terrible spells to bring him back."

"Then do it!" You shout. "What are you waiting for?"

Anon bends down and yanks Sauron's blade from Thranduil's chest. There is a gaping hole where his heart used to be.

"Sacrifice," she murmurs, running a finger against the blood-slicked blade. "That is what it means to love, is it not?" She looks at you then, a cruel smile playing at her lips. Your throat is dry as she hands you the blade.

"Carve out your heart, and place it in his chest. It will beat as his once did, and he will live again."

Your eyes widen as her words sink in. You feel the thorns of the hilt dig into your palm.

Love.

Sacrifice.

A warm, familiar hand take the blade from you. It is Cumbersmaug, his eyes soft and full of sorrow.

"Use my heart. Bring him back."

"No!" You cry, hysterics rising in your chest. "Why would you even suggest such a thing?"

He smiles crookedly. "My heart is yours to do as you please. I cannot live without your love. And if bringing him back will finally bring you a life without darkness, if it means that you will forever love some part of me-"  

"NO NO NO NO NO!" You smack the sword from his hands, and it clatters dully against the ground.

"I would give my heart for you a thousand times over! I love you! Why don't you understand?" You sob uncontrollably, and he takes you in his arms and clasps you tightly.

"But I know your heart," he murmurs. "You love him as well. I would rather perish than to allow you such sacrifice for him."

Legolas calmly reaches for the sword, but Anon grabs it.

"No, my son. It is time I made things right."

Before anyone could react, she plunges the sword into her chest. The thorns around the hilt wrap around the blade, and suddenly the blade disappears. Anon's heart floats from her chest, glowing in a soft, red light. Legolas catches her before she hits the ground.

"Why?" You whisper. "Why are you doing this?"

"No one will ever love me as he did. No one ever will. But now-" She chokes, blood dripping from her lips. "...Are you crying for me? Foolish girl. I have taken him from you, now and forever. He will love me with every beat of his heart, for his heart will be mine. He will never love you again."

You close your eyes. "If that's what it takes to bring him back. That is all that matters to me."

She smiles slightly. Then she is gone, her body cold and limp in Legolas' arms.

Anon's heart bobs in the air, and you guide it into Thranduil's chest. It nestles, veins spreading out like roots of a pulsing, sprouting seed. There is a flash of brilliant light, and Thranduil's wound closes. You see the rise and fall of his chest, the flush of life slowly creeping back into his limbs. He stirs, long lashes fluttering. Then he opens his eyes, and gazes up at you with eyes of the deepest blue.

"...You," he whispers, his voice trailing off as he touches your face with a gentle hand. Then his eyes are wide, and he yanks his head towards Anon. He sees her, bloodied and lifeless. He staggers to his feet, shoving past you.

"What have you done?" He rasps, gathering Anon in his arms. "My love... my emerald..."

You know there are no words that would make this right. You have lost him to Anon. He will never love you again.

Cumbersmaug takes your hand, and pulls you to him. He is warm, his arms strong and comforting. You lean into him, breathing in his scent.

"...Let's go home," you murmur.

Cumbersmaug is asleep in the grass, with Juniper curled in a ball on his chest, her little scarlet wings stirring with every teeny snore. Cypress pulls himself from his daddy's arm and yawns.

"Mommy," he murmurs, and totters over to hug your leg. "You're back! We waited for you forever."

You pull tangled bits of dandelion fluff from his unruly mop of dark hair.

"I told you I'd be back before sunset," you laugh. "Want to see what I got from Laketown?"

From your knapsack you pull out a tight bundle of cinnamon sticks, a sack of roasted cacao beans, a thick slab of spiced jerky, two leather-bound notebooks, and some gold, eagle-feather quills. Cypress' amber eyes are wide with excitement.

"Are these all for me?" He asks, breathlessly.

"...I'm hungry." Juniper complains croakily as she wakes. She crawls from her daddy towards the knapsack and sniffs at the venison jerky, then at the notebooks. She pokes the notebooks with a finger. "...Can we eat these too?"

You tuck everything into the knapsack and pull the straps onto Cypress' little square shoulders.

"Take your sister back to the mountain and you can have a bit of jerky. And remember to share."

Cypress rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation, a flicker of flame shooting from his nostrils.

"Come on, squirt," he mutters and starts towards Erebor.

"Jerky! Jerky!" Juniper chants as she skips after him. You smile as you watch them run up the beaten path towards home.

Cumbersmaug is still fast asleep, dark lashes fluttering. A scattered pile of fresh lilies and daffodils and a half-finished wreath lay near his outstretched arm. You plop down beside him. He smells of wood-fire and grass, with the familiar tinge of sulphur. You lay your palm against his smooth, chiseled chest, trailing your fingers against the tan lines of his muscular abdomen. He stirs slightly and grunts, blinking blearily at you.

"...Hello, beautiful," he murmured throatily, pulling you into a kiss.

"Someone got worn out," you chuckle.

"Little rascals," he sighs, shaking his head. "Couldn't get them to sit still for one second. Are they heading home?"

You nod, nestling against him. "I bought jerky; hopefully they'll remember to leave some for us."

He snorted. "That jerky is as good as gone. Dragons aren't big on sharing."

"I guess we'll have to make-do without it."

Ever so gently, you tease the edge of his trousers, slipping your fingers beneath the drawstrings.

His breath catches slightly in his throat, and he bites his lip.

"...How far are they...to the mountain?"

Your fingers wander low, grazing the length of him and stirring him into rigidity. "They're on the rock path now. Steps away from the entrance." You kneel between his knees, and slip him free. The cold air heightens the warmth of your grip, and he stifles a groan.

"...You don't think...they can hear us?" He mumbles, eyes glazed. "These canyons...echo."

You trail your fingers along the dark veins, the shimmer of scale-like patterns, brushing the edges of his ridged tip. He lets out a hoarse moan.

"Shhh..." you laugh, flicking your tongue across the glistening tip. "They’ll come running back to check what happened to their daddy."

"...I scarcely know...what is happening...myself-" His word catch in his throat as you envelop him in your hot, tight mouth, tongue swirling wickedly. His fingers are in your hair clenching desperately.

"Aaaaaughh..." He groans audibly, unable to contain himself. The hum of your laughter adds to the delicious sensation. He is grasping your head, his hips unconsciously thrusting and grinding into your mouth. You feel his excitement swell, feel him strain and pulse and grow hot against your tongue.

“...You’re going to be the end of me,” He breathes, and he pulls you into his arms. Your dress shreds under his anxious fingers, your underwear pulled from your legs. Your aching breasts mold perfectly to his warm, rough grasp, and he ravishes them relentlessly with rasps of his tongue. He draws his trembling desire against your own dripping heat, the friction sending shockwaves through your body. Back and forth. Slow, maddening burn. You want to cry out, but he drags his thumb over your lips, and presses his mouth over yours.

“Shh,” he laughs, eyes bright.

He sinks into you, and you are consumed by his fire. He draws music from your flesh like bow against strings.Thick and deep. Rich and rewarding. Dark, fiery perfection with every generous plunge, every decadent twist. Like flint, like stone, you spark as one, until you are nothing but wave after wave of crackling electricity dancing through and between you. You are no longer certain where he ends and where you begin. You buck and shake, unable to contain the firestorm rippling and searing through you. And yet he does not stop, stoking the flames in delirious fervor until the very sensation pushes you deeper and deeper into oblivion. You clutch at him desperately, feeling as if you were on the verge of flying apart. He clasps you protectively against him.

“I love you,” he whispers, gaze tender yet fiercely possessive.

You unravel in his arms, your screams of pleasure singing in his mouth, your body shaking and clenching and sending him soaring with you. Now and forever, he is yours. Everything you have built together with your bare hands, the family you have created. Nothing could take that from you.