🔞
Kyon's mouth claimed Arion's, the kiss a savage, possessive assault that mirrored the fierce desire blazing in his eyes. He didn't wait, didn't ask. With a single, dominating move, he ripped open Arion's training pants. Arion gasped, a sound swallowed by Kyon's lips and the overwhelming scent of burning amber. The rough fabric tore, a brutal echo of Arion's crumbling control.
The prince shifted his weight, and Arion felt the sudden, shocking pressure of Kyon's throbbing length pressing against him. Kyon was ready, hard and demanding. Arion's heart pounded, a frantic, trapped bird against his ribs. He tried to twist away, to voice a protest, but Kyon's hand clamped down on his jaw, holding his head still, forcing him to witness the brutal claim.
"You're mine now," Kyon hissed against his ear, his voice a low, primal snarl. "Mine to use. Mine to mark."
Then, with a single, powerful thrust, Kyon impaled Arion. The pain was sharp, immediate, a violation that stole the air from his lungs. Arion arched his back, his body convulsing violently with the shock of the deep penetration. The raw, brutal sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pain and terrifying fullness. Kyon's size—the 143 lengths of his alpha form—felt like a cruel mockery, driving home the completeness of his dominance.
Arion couldn't scream; only a ragged, muffled sob escaped past the prince's hand. But his body, a desperate traitor, was already fighting the pain. The overwhelming rush of alpha pheromones, the agonizing pressure, the deep, stretching fullness—it all culminated in a desperate, unwanted surge of pleasure that shot through his core, a profound, shameful betrayal of his own will.
Kyon began to move, his rhythm savage and relentless, each powerful, driving stroke a brutal declaration of ownership. The springs of the infirmary cot squeaked softly beneath them, a discreet soundtrack to the violence of their coupling. Kyon's thrusts were deep and unyielding, aimed at driving any last thought of Cassian, any last shred of Arion's personal defiance, from his mind.
"Tell me you're mine," Kyon demanded, his voice strained with exertion, a primal command. "Tell me you're ready to belong to me, always."
Arion couldn't speak, could only gasp and sob, his body bucking against the relentless assault. The shame was a black tide, but the sensation, the terrifying, consuming heat of the alpha claiming him, was a desperate, undeniable reality. In that moment of utter loss, as his body convulsed under Kyon's fierce possession, Arion knew his soul had been truly broken.