#pedrito pascal

He returned from another battle.

I thanked the Gods for bringing him back - whole, alive. Only a few small cuts and a new scar across his face, but I’ve grown used to that by now. It’s always the same. And he always gives his word he’ll return. This time, too, he kept it.

I waited in our chambers for him to arrive. I didn’t wish to join the celebration in the city. It’s not that I didn’t want to honor him, I did, but I’m tired of it. Tired of endless battles fought for the amusement of the two men who rule us.

He came late into the night. I had dined alone again, as I had for months. When he entered, he looked as though he wasn’t hungry. At least… not for food. He stood in the doorway, eyes fixed on me, as if I’d been carved from marble, carved for his pleasure.

He’s respectful. He’d never hurt me, I know that. I’m his lady. His harbor, the place he returns to when he seeks a moment of peace. But I know that look. It’s the kind of hunger that pushes aside all restraint, all civility. The kind that says he wants me - in our bed, beneath him, utterly his.

And I wasn’t wrong.

He came to me, kissed my knuckles, then lifted his eyes to mine. Whispered a few sweet nothings.

I told him I thanked the Gods for bringing him back.

He looked at me as if I couldn’t possibly understand - as if prayers alone could bring him home. As if I had any notion of what battle truly is. And perhaps he’s right. I’m young… much younger than he is. Not as wise, not as hardened. But can I not say I’m grateful?

He smiled, quiet and distant, but his eyes… his eyes were already somewhere else. Somewhere he was doing to me all the things he’s been deprived of for months.

I took his hand and led him into the bedchamber.

I’m lying beneath him now, completely naked, pinned to the bed by his weight, by the body that could crush me if he wanted to.

His mouth trails over my skin, his hands on my breasts, gripping hard like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

I gasp and twist under him. It’s not uncomfortable, far from it. But I know he’s going to ruin me, in the way only he can.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against my neck. “I missed your body. This.” His hand slides down between my thighs, fingers brushing over the soft hair there. “I missed this. The way you tremble under me. How you’re at my mercy… and you know you are.” His voice roughens, hungry and without warning, one long finger slips deep inside me.

It catches me off guard… I hiss, not fully ready for him, for his size. But the sound only seems to push him further; a second finger slides in. Now I’m squirming, muscles clenching tight around him.

He curls his fingers inside me, eyes fixed on my face. He always watches me, like every small reaction fascinates him. Then he spreads his fingers slightly, and my hips rise to meet his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers back before pushing them in again - deeper this time, right to the spot he knows drives me insane. And he can reach it so easily with those long fingers.

I try to hold myself together, but the more he moves inside me, the more I open up for him… slicker, softer, easier with every touch.

When his fingers find the spot he wants inside me, his thumb presses down on my clit; not softly, but hard. I moan under his touch like a puppet in his hands. And right now, that’s exactly what I am.

His fingers move faster now, deeper; circling inside me until heat floods my whole body. I lift my hips to meet his hand, desperate for more. He smiles, presses harder with his thumb against my clit, and I can’t hold back the sound that leaves me. Everything inside me tightens; his fingers keep working me until I break, coming hard around him.

But he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, relentless, as if he wants to ruin me completely. The pleasure stretches on and on until I gasp: “I can’t… anymore,” eyes shut tight, trying to calm the tremors that won’t stop.

He lets me writhe beneath him, moves his fingers a few more times, and then suddenly pulls them out. I open my eyes just in time to see him bring them to his mouth, tongue tracing every drop. His eyes darken as he moans, quiet but rough. “I’ve missed this taste. No food or wine could ever satisfy me the way you do, my lady,” he murmurs, pressing closer until his body covers mine. His mouth finds mine again, taking my breath until I have none left.

“Did you get what you wanted, General?” I whisper, half hoping he did - because I’m not sure I could take more - and half hoping he didn’t. I like being under him, in his control, when he does whatever he wants with me. That’s how it always is when he comes back from battle.

He looks at me, still hungry. I can already tell this isn’t enough for him. And I’m right.

“Satisfied?” he smiles, brushing his thumb along my cheek. “I haven’t even started yet, my lady.” His touch is soft - too soft - and I know whatever comes next won’t be. He hasn’t had anyone for months. I know that. He’s loyal. He doesn’t go looking for whores.

“I’ll try not to break you completely, my dear,” he murmurs before kissing me - deep, slow, his tongue sliding against mine. I kiss him back, a sigh slipping from my lips as warmth floods through me again, my lower belly pulsing hard.

His hand leaves my face and moves down, between his legs, to free himself. He’s big, thick and I’ve always been too tight for him. But that only turned him on more. And tonight, I know it’ll be no different. He doesn’t stop kissing me when he pushes in - all the way, no warning - and then goes still, buried deep inside me.

I can’t keep kissing him; a cry slips out as a tear runs down my cheek. It’s not really pain, just too much all at once, like he’s filling every inch of me.

“Shh,” he says, low, almost like he’s scolding me.

And that’s when I see it - that look in his eyes, the moment he stops fighting his instincts. I know what’s coming.

He slides almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside. After being stretched to the limit, the sudden emptiness makes me gasp. One hand presses my shoulder down, the other grips my hip and then he thrusts back into me, deep, hard, until there’s nothing left between us.

I cry out again, the sound low and rough in my throat.

That only makes him wilder. He starts moving faster, deeper… rough and relentless. There’s nothing gentle about it. Just heat, pressure, and the sound of our bodies meeting again and again.

I tighten around him every time he sinks in, holding him there like I never want to let go. I know what it does to him, I can feel it in the way his breath turns ragged.

“You’re perfect,” he growls between breaths. “So tight. Do you know what you do to me? I used to think of this every night, when all I had was my hand. And now you’re here, squeezing me like that…”

I don’t even know why I say it, or where it comes from. “Then take me,” I breathe. “Do it.”

And then there was no stopping him. He started thrusting into me, hard and fast, but with a steady rhythm that made my whole body shake. My thighs trembled around his waist, helpless.

At one point he grabbed my ass and lifted me a little, hitting deeper - exactly where he wanted. Every move had me gasping.

“Who do you belong to?” he growled between breaths. “Who owns every sound you make? Who can make you feel like this?”

“Only you,” I breathed, clinging to him, legs tight around his waist. “Only you.”

“That’s right, my lady,” he groaned, pushing even deeper, somehow finding more space when I swore there wasn’t any left.

He keeps his hands under me, lifting me higher, then rolls us over so I end up on top of him. For a moment we’re chest to chest, face to face - he’s so deep inside me I can feel him everywhere.

Then he lies back and guides me down onto him, his length still buried deep. “I want to see you ride me,” he says, voice low and rough. “Show me how you take your general, my lady.”

I was a little uneasy because we didn’t do this often. But I tried to move the way he’d moved inside me before. My hips started to rock, his hands holding me steady, guiding me through it.

He helped me find the rhythm, and when I lifted my hips and sank back down, I started moving faster. Acacius closed his eyes, his nails digging into my skin. I didn’t want to stop, it turned me on too much. That heat came rushing back, spreading through me all over again.

Still with his eyes closed, he found my clit by touch alone. His fingers knew exactly where to go. He caught it between his thumb and finger and rolled it until a moan broke out of me.

I was already too sensitive from before, and I knew I wouldn’t last long.

“Come for me. Come on my cock,” he said, voice rough, and the word hit me like a spark - shocking, but making me melt all the same.

Then his thumb brushed over me again while his hips lifted, thrusting up into me and I came, again, shaking apart on top of him.

He held onto my thighs, keeping me there, as if he didn’t want to let me go. He lifted his hips one last time and pushed deep, and that was it - my body clenched around him as he came inside me.

I felt the heat of him spill out, everything he’d been holding back for months, filling me until I couldn’t breathe. Acacius had his eyes shut tight, a low growl rumbling from his chest; not loud like me, just rough and raw.

I stayed on top of him, palms pressed to his chest, still tightening around him on purpose.

He’d wrecked me… but in the end, I think I wrecked him too.

My fingers slid through his hair as he softened inside me. “Welcome home, General,” I whispered.