Arion breath heavily and whimpers lowly,
The raw, explosive climax left Arion weak and breathless, plastered against the cold stone wall, yet a horrifying sense of peace settled over his ravaged body. The urgent, primal screaming of his pregnant heat was finally silenced, momentarily satiated by the deep, brutal connection. He was no longer fighting. The shame was still there, a thin, bitter undertone, but the overwhelming physical relief washed everything else away.
Kyon didn't immediately pull back. He kept them joined, burying his face in Arion's shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against the skin. Arion's hands, which had been weakly pushing at the prince moments ago, now clutched at Kyon's shoulders, pulling him closer. He threw his head back against the wall, a deep, contented moan finally escaping his lips—a sound of pure, unadulterated physical pleasure. He was lost in the sensation, kissing Kyon back with a desperate, feverish intensity, embracing the very violation that defined his surrender.
Kyon finally shifted, pulling his length out slowly, lingeringly, but instead of setting Arion down, he effortlessly carried him up, his arms slipping under Arion's thighs. Arion instinctively wrapped his legs around Kyon's waist, locking them together. The movement was a shift from brutal sex to a possessive embrace, and Arion buried his face in Kyon's neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of amber and sweat. He peppered the prince's neck with feverish kisses, punctuated by soft, relieved moans and whimpers of satisfaction.
In that moment, completely relaxed and held, Arion felt a sharp, internal awareness of his body. The swelling on his lower abdomen—the tiny life , felt suddenly more pronounced, slightly bigger, as if settling deeper into the possessive warmth of the alpha who had just claimed it.
Kyon started walking down the hallway, carrying Arion's weight with arrogant ease. He didn't head back to the royal chambers; he moved toward an isolated guest room on the deserted wing of the palace. He kicked the door open and entered, sealing them both inside with the sharp click of the lock.
The hours melted away in a consuming blur. Kyon laid Arion on the bed, and the lovemaking began again, fueled by Kyon's relentless possessiveness and Arion's overwhelming biological need. There were no more guards, no more walls, just the intense, exhausting heat of their bodies. They moved together and apart, again and again, the rhythm of their coupling punctuated by desperate sighs, sharp gasps, and the insistent creak of the bedsprings. They made love with a violent, demanding passion that consumed the darkness, their movements never slowing, never stopping, driven by a primal, irresistible force.
It was five in the early morning when the intensity finally waned. Arion lay utterly depleted, his body a mass of tender bruises, his skin slick with sweat and the heavy, fertile scents of their union. He didn't just fall asleep; he fainted from sheer exhaustion and profound physical satisfaction, his head resting on Kyon's sweat-damp shoulder.
As Arion slept, beautiful and broken in his arms, Kyon's plan snapped chillingly into place. He looked at the warrior, not with affection, but with clinical detachment. Kyon had never cared about Arion as a person; he was a means to an end. He was simply using Arion to gain power.
The initial marking was a mistake, a burst of territorial rage. But Kyon was a master manipulator. He quickly realized Arion's value: the Dragon-Slayer, marked by a supposedly weak omega prince, was the perfect political currency. By claiming Arion, he could infuriate his brother, solidify his own alpha façade, and, critically, gain the loyalty of a legendary soldier. Now, with Arion pregnant and deeply in heat, the warrior's desperation had led him straight into the Western Palace a disruption Kyon was about to turn into a profound advantage.
Kyon gently disentangled himself from the sleeping warrior. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixed on the prize: the Jade Heart, hidden in the deepest vault of Valerius's father's castle.
Kyon's pov: In a matter of hours, i would reveal a fabricated, iron-clad dossier proving that Warrior Arion, the man sent by my father and the King's guard, was a double agent guilty of fraud and corruption, a supposed spy sent to destabilize the Western alliance. I would present this evidence to Prince Valerius, lamenting that this loyal soldier had betrayed everyone's trust, proving my own sincerity and devotion to the Western alliance.
And When Arion finally awoke, weak and drained, Valerius's guards would arrest him. The weak, love-sick Arion, unable to fight or flee, would be dragged to the dungeon. Kyon, having eliminated the 'threat' sent by his father and simultaneously solidified his trust with Valerius, would gain more power and be more believed.
Even if Arion would be left suffering in the dark, cold dungeon, stripped of all comfort and aid. His powerful pregnant heat would return, without the relief of heat blockers or an alpha, and his body, already weakened by days of stress and exhaustion, would begin to break under the combined pressure of hunger and agonizing biological need.
" hah! What a funny game! So interesting!" Kyon says wearing his white seductive omega clothing.
He comb his hair and tie it up , before pulling out the fabricated document of arion for marriage contract with valerius.
" tsk, tsk, tsk, though you were more clever valerius!" He shake head and walk out of the guest room closing it behind him with a lock, trapping Arion inside.
He walk away from there. Meanwhile Arion in the room dream and thought eate him up.
" you'll be sent to the western capital soo!" Arion reply the king word .
" in three weeks you'll be going back to the western capitals!" A mock face tormented him , then he sniffs of kyon cloth he felt light head and suddenly sleep more peacefully , a deep sleep , without a care in the world, he steady his breath and sigh happily ( poor baby) , arion swollen belly deflated back slightly.
He felt it and he curled on himself, "…" he coo and sigh .