The silence that followed was a breathtaking and awkward moment .
Arion couldn't bring himself to look kyon in the eye, soon kyon pulls out, Arion groan and trembles, the princes length cover with a thick and viscous mix of their fluid and Arion blood , a testament of kyon raw violence towards Arion body.
Kyon glanced down at the mess he'd made, a slow, self-satisfied smirk stretching across his lips. He was the picture of an alpha who had successfully reasserted his dominance. He quickly smoothed his tunic, adjusting the fabric until his clothes looked impeccably neat, the picture of the composed prince returning after a momentary, necessary lapse.
He turned to the nearby medical table and grabbed a small, unmarked vial. "A necessary precaution," he murmured, his eyes holding a calculating gleam as he opened the stopper. "We can't have you showing yet. Not while my brother is still circling. The unveiling of my heir must be on my terms, not as a desperate defense."
He brought the vial to Arion's lips, forcing the bitter liquid past his teeth. Arion struggled weakly, bile rising in his throat from the taste and the sheer humiliation. He didn't want any part of Kyon, not his claim, not his seed, and certainly not his controlling "antidote." He swallowed, the repulsive taste a final insult. Kyon believed he had guaranteed no immediate pregnancy, but the potion, secretly formulated by a jealous court physician, was subtly flawed. Unknown to kyon ( if that truly what we think ) , the potion would actually work against his alpha pheromones, making Arion's body more receptive to the next successful mating, not less.
Kyon, satisfied, wiped Arion's mouth and finally backed away. "Now you know where you belong," he said, his voice laced with triumph. "Go. Serve your new master. But remember who your true owner is."
Arion lay there, utterly spent, his heart a raw, bleeding mass of shame and cold fury. He no longer felt the intoxicating pull of Kyon's scent or touch; it was replaced by a deep, visceral revulsion. He scrambled off the cot, ignoring the sharp protest of his abused body. He adjusted his torn clothes, the feeling of the rough fabric a preferable sensation to Kyon's skin.
From that moment on, Arion made a silent, desperate vow. His personal life was forfeit, but his soldier's life remained. He would avoid Kyon at all costs, treating him as a necessary evil to be managed. He focused his entire being back on his soldier's life, embracing the grueling routine. He started training harder than ever, pushing his body to the point of exhaustion in the training yard, seeing every grueling session as a way to burn away the scent, the memory, and the shame of Kyon's brutal claim. He would be the perfect soldier for Cassian—strong, obedient, and utterly untouchable.