4

Kael hovered above Elian, bracing himself with one arm beside the younger man's head, the other brushing lightly down Elian’s chest, fingertips tracing the curves of his collarbones, the dip between his pecs, the faint tremble of his stomach.

“You’re nervous,” Kael murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Elian nodded, his eyes wide. “I’ve never… not like this.”

Kael’s hand paused.

Then he lowered himself slowly until his chest touched Elian’s bare skin—warm, solid, unyielding—and kissed him again, not rough this time, but deep and slow, like he was feeding something between them that only craved more.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Kael said against his mouth. “I’m here to show you what it means to be treasured.”

Elian whimpered under the weight of those words.

Kael kissed his cheek, his jaw, his throat—biting lightly, then soothing the skin with the flat of his tongue. He kissed lower still, lips exploring each inch of skin with reverence.

He took his time.

Elian's fingers curled into the sheets, trying to stay still while Kael kissed the dip of his navel, his hips, his inner thighs—avoiding the places that ached the most, the ones pulsing with need.

Kael's hands spread Elian's thighs apart, slowly, firmly.

“You're trembling.”

“You’re not helping,” Elian gasped, half laughing, half pleading.

Kael gave him a smirk—dark and knowing. “Good. I want you wrecked.”

Elian opened his mouth to answer, but what came next was a moan—raw and startled—because Kael's mouth finally found the spot between his legs, hot breath ghosting over the tip before his tongue flicked, soft and wicked, a teasing promise of what was coming.

“Kael—!” Elian’s voice cracked.

Kael didn’t stop. He worked Elian open with maddening patience, alternating between kisses and bites, between deep licks and gentle suckling, until Elian was writhing beneath him, hips lifting, begging without even knowing what words to use.

And when Kael finally slid two fingers down—slick, careful, deliberate—Elian arched off the bed.

His general was relentless.

Kael stretched him slowly, curling his fingers just enough to make Elian cry out, then retreating to leave him aching. He built the tension like a symphony, every movement tuned to Elian's gasps and moans, every stroke just shy of release.

“You feel that?” Kael growled low against his skin. “You’re opening for me. Only me.”

Elian was past words. He nodded frantically, his whole body flushed and trembling, heat coiling tighter in his stomach with every thrust of Kael’s fingers.

And then Kael pulled away.

Elian whimpered at the loss—eyes wild, lips parted.

Kael looked down at him, slowly unbuttoning his own shirt now, revealing scarred, powerful muscles honed by war and discipline. His pants followed, dropped without ceremony, his body rising over Elian like a shadow, like a god claiming his sacrifice.

“Tell me what you want, Elian.”

“You,” Elian whispered, voice wrecked. “I want you.”

Kael positioned himself carefully, one hand guiding, the other holding Elian's thigh wide.

“Breathe.”

The first push made Elian gasp.

Kael didn’t rush. He held still, letting Elian adjust, kissing his shoulder, whispering low things—“You’re taking me so well… that’s it, baby… breathe with me…”

When Elian relaxed, Kael began to move—long, deep strokes that filled every part of him.

Elian clawed at his back, eyes rolling as each thrust struck something inside him that made him see stars. Kael was everywhere—his scent, his weight, the sound of his breath harsh in his ear.

“You feel so good,” Kael groaned. “Tight, warm—perfect.”

Elian was panting now, nearly crying from the pleasure.

“Say it,” Kael ordered. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours—Kael, please—I’m yours, I’m yours—”

Kael slammed in harder, deeper. “Louder.”

“I’M YOURS!”

Kael growled—primal, possessive—and kissed Elian hard, swallowing every broken cry as he thrust faster, rougher, deeper, until Elian was shaking in his arms.

And when Elian came—shattered and sobbing Kael’s name—Kael held him through it, still moving, still whispering mine, mine, mine into his skin.

Only when he finished inside Elian, groaning into his throat, did he finally still.

Both of them were trembling.

Sweat slicked their bodies.

Elian could barely breathe—but he’d never felt more whole.

Kael didn’t pull away.

He just wrapped his arms around Elian and held him there—pressed tight against his chest, breath syncing, heart thundering beneath his cheek.

“I’m not letting you go,” Kael whispered.

Elian smiled faintly, exhausted, kissed the center of his chest.

“Then Don’t.”

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