Kyon's hand clamped over Arion's mouth, silencing his struggles. The muffled sounds of the newly arrived soldiers in the adjacent infirmary room were a brutal counterpoint to the silent terror unfolding on the cot. Kyon's eyes, dark and possessive, burned into Arion's, a clear message of his intent. Arion felt his blood run cold, a wave of profound despair washing over him. He was trapped, utterly helpless.
Kyon leaned down, his lips finding Arion's neck, just above the bandage covering the earlier mark. He started with a searing kiss, a brutal assault that stole Arion's breath. Arion's body stiffened, but the touch, despite its violence, sent an unwilling shiver through him. Kyon's hand remained firmly over Arion's mouth, muffling any sound, allowing only a choked whimper to escape from the back of his throat.
"You're mine," Kyon growled against his skin, his voice a low, guttural rumble that vibrated through Arion's entire body. "Mine to touch, mine to brand, mine to fill."
His mouth moved lower, trailing a path of fire down Arion's throat, past the collar of his tunic. Arion's body, despite his mind's furious objections, began to betray him. A low, unwilling moan, muffled by Kyon's hand, escaped him. Hot, humiliating tears welled in Arion's eyes, mixing with the sweat on his temples. He was sobbing, silently, his body wracked with a mixture of terror and a horrifying, burgeoning pleasure.
Kyon's hand left Arion's mouth, only to move lower, deftly unlacing Arion's tunic with practiced ease. The cool air hitting Arion's exposed chest was a shock, but it was nothing compared to the fiery trail Kyon's lips left behind. He kissed his way down, past his collarbone, past the bruises left by Cassian, each kiss a possessive mark.
"Your body remembers," Kyon whispered, his voice thick with desire as his hand moved to Arion's inner thigh, stroking intimately. "It remembers how good I made you feel. It craves my touch, doesn't it? Even now, even after he laid his hands on you, you still want me."
Arion whimpered, a wet, desperate sound that was half sob, half moan. He tried to fight, to push Kyon away, but his hands felt weak, his will fractured. The scent of Kyon's amber was overwhelming, intoxicating, blurring the lines between anger and desperate need. Kyon's words, his touch, the brutality of his possession—it was all too much, stripping away every last shred of Arion's resolve.
The distant sounds of the soldiers in the other room, their oblivious chatter, only intensified Arion's shame. He was being claimed, brutally and shamelessly, and his own body, in its horrifying betrayal, was beginning to respond. He was crying, he was sniffling, but beneath the tears, a desperate heat was building, a fire ignited by the very man who was breaking him. And Kyon knew it. He saw the shift in Arion's eyes, felt the subtle tremor in his body, and a dark, triumphant satisfaction bloomed on his face. He bent down, his mouth finding Arion's once more, a deep, invasive kiss that left no doubt of his claim.