Rowan's robe fell to the floor, revealing the full extent of his arousal—thick, veined, and impossibly hard dick.Cael caught a glimpse over his shoulder and froze, eyes wide with fear. That... couldn't possibly fit.
Panic surged through him.
He scrambled, trying to crawl off the bed, but before he could even reach the edge, a hand seized his ankle. Rowan dragged him back effortlessly, pinning him beneath his weight once more.
"Rowan—wait—!" Cael pleaded, but the words were lost in a sharp gasp as he felt himself stretched in one sudden, overwhelming push.
A strangled whimper left his throat, his fingers clutching the sheets in pain and disbelief.
"I'll be gentle," Rowan murmured against his ear, voice strained with hunger, "but I can't promise."
Then he started to thrust in more.
Rowan loomed above him, breath ragged, body fully bared—his arousal thick, veined, and impossibly large. Cael's eyes widened the moment he saw it, panic blooming in his chest.
"There's no way... it won't fit—" he whispered, trembling.
But Rowan's grip on his waist tightened, possessive, unrelenting.
"Its so tight,"Rowan thought.
"Relax, Cael," he murmured against his ear, voice rough with restraint. "I'll take my time... but you have to let me in."
Cael's whole body tensed as Rowan pressed against his entrance—stretching, pushing, claiming.
He gasped—no, cried—as the pressure mounted. His body fought to adjust, too small, too tight for something that big. It felt like he was being split open, every inch overwhelming, burning with sensation.
"Ah—Rowan...! Too much—ha... I can't—"
Rowan kissed the back of his neck, his voice low and feverish. "You're doing so well... just a little more."
At last, his entire eight inches slid deep into Cael's tight entrance.
________
Each slow thrust dragged a sound from Cael's lips—a mix of pain, shock, and pleasure so twisted it left him breathless. He felt utterly consumed, stretched so wide it made his stomach tighten, like he was being filled completely.
Tears pricked his eyes as he buried his face in the sheets, body trembling from the intensity. And yet... he couldn't stop moaning. Couldn't stop clinging to Rowan's name as if it were the only thing tethering him to this world.
Slow at first, but deep—so deep Cael could hardly breathe. His body trembled beneath each thrust, the sensation unbearable. His stomach felt full, stretched beyond reason. Every inch of movement sent sharp, aching pulses through his core.
"Ah... ha—Rowan... it hurts..." Cael moaned, voice broken.
But Rowan didn't stop—he held him tightly, like a man too far gone in desire to turn back.
Cael looked up through tear-filled eyes, flushed and trembling—his soft cries and vulnerable expression struck something deep inside Rowan. He looked too beautiful like that. Too fragile. Too sexy.
Rowan lost what little control he had left.
In one swift motion, he flipped Cael onto his back, forcing their eyes to meet. Cael barely had time to gasp before Rowan captured his lips in a bruising, fevered kiss—his thrusts never stopping, only growing deeper, faster, more desperate.
Their mouths collided, messy and breathless, tongues tangling as Rowan devoured him. The kiss left Cael dizzy, drowning in heat and sensation. His mind blurred—the pain that once seared through him began to melt into something else. Something dark and sinful that made his toes curl and breath hitch.
Rowan's body pressed against him, heavy and overwhelming, and when Cael opened his eyes for a moment, he caught a glimpse of Rowan's face—flushed, wild, utterly satisfied.
And then it hit him.
A deep, pulsing heat spilled inside, warmth blooming in his core. Rowan groaned low in his throat, hips stilling as he buried himself to the hilt.
Cael's lips parted in a silent breath, his whole body quivering beneath him.
It was over.
Finally, it was over.
A strange relief washed over him—his legs trembling, his chest rising and falling in shaky breaths. His skin was sticky with sweat, his body aching and stretched, and between them... the unmistakable, wet heat of release.White thick sticky semen.
He lay there, dazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed—caught between exhaustion, shame, and the fading ghost of pleasure.
But Cael was wrong.
______
Rowan wasn't finished.
Still buried deep inside, Rowan's body remained tense, arousal far from fading. His eyes darkened with renewed hunger, and a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.
"One time won't satisfy me," he murmured, voice low and chilling.
Cael's breath caught—fear flickering in his wide eyes. Before he could even protest, Rowan moved again.
What followed was relentless.
Rowan took him again, lips and hands claiming every inch—his mouth trailing from Cael's throat to his chest, biting and sucking until Cael's nipples were red and raw. His movements were primal, fevered, like a man possessed.
Cael gasped and moaned, voice growing hoarse with every passing minute. His body trembled, overstimulated and worn, as wave after wave of sensation crashed over him. He didn't know how long it lasted—he lost track of time, of everything, except the sound of Rowan's breath, the heat of his touch, and the bruising rhythm of his body.
Rowan reached his peak again, and again, but still... he didn't stop.
"R-Rowan... please..." Cael whispered, barely coherent.
But Rowan was lost—consumed by desire and obsession, a beast in heat with only one focus: him.
At some point, Cael's strength gave out completely. His vision blurred. His moans turned to broken whimpers. And then—quiet.
His body went limp beneath Rowan's relentless touch. Everything faded.
He slipped into unconsciousness, overwhelmed, drained, and utterly taken.
_________
Rowan's gaze fell on Cael, who had gone still—eyes closed, breath faint. He realized Cael had lost consciousness, body completely limp beneath him.
But even then... he couldn't stop.
His obsession burned too deep, his desire too long starved. For years, Rowan had dreamed of holding him, touching him—claiming what he believed was always meant to be his. And now that Cael was here, beneath him, vulnerable and silenced, he couldn't look away.
His movements grew slower, deeper—driven not by pleasure, but by the overwhelming hunger to possess, to brand. Time blurred. He didn't know how many times he cummed inside Cael , only that Cael's body trembled beneath the weight of it all. His stomach looked noticeably distended, swollen from the sheer amount of thick seed Rowan had poured into him without restraint. Rowan gazed down at the sight with a dark, satisfied smirk—utterly pleased by the evidence of his relentless desire and possession.
Eventually, Rowan pulled away, breathless. The sky outside had begun to pale with the coming dawn.
He stared down at Cael—his flushed face, tear-streaked cheeks, and parted lips. A strange softness crossed Rowan's face as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away.
He pulled his cock out of Cael's thoroughly used, twitching and swollen hole, and began stroking himself with slow, hungry movements. With a low groan, thick, hot spurts of cum spilled across Cael's flushed face—coating his cheeks, tangling in his hair, and dripping onto his slightly parted lips in a messy, claiming finish.
"My beautiful Cael..." he whispered.
He pulled the unconscious boy into his arms, gently lowering him onto his length and sliding back into the tender, swollen hole slick from their earlier release. A soft, guttural sound escaped his throat as he pushed in fully—not to move, but to plug the entrance, making sure none of his cum could escape. He wanted it to stay buried deep inside Cael, kept warm and untouched.
Holding him close, he wrapped Cael in a possessive embrace, cradling him like something too precious to lose. Even in sleep, it was as if he feared someone might take him away. So he stayed still, buried deep inside, sealing his release within Cael's trembling body like a silent claim.
Only then did Rowan close his eyes and let himself fall into a deep, satisfied slumber.
________
The morning sun spilled softly through the pale curtains, casting golden streaks across the silk sheets. In the middle of the large bed, two bodies lay tangled beneath the covers—bare skin brushing against bare skin, limbs intertwined as if even in sleep, they couldn't bear to part.
Cael was nestled against Rowan's chest, his breath slow and even, lips slightly parted in exhaustion. His delicate lashes fluttered faintly, resting over cheeks still tinted pink from the night before. One hand was curled against Rowan's chest, fingers rising and falling with each steady heartbeat.
Rowan, too, had succumbed to deep slumber. His usual stern brow was relaxed, his powerful arms cradling Cael protectively against him. The raw tension that often hung from his shoulders had melted away, replaced by something almost boyish in its softness. His breath warmed the crown of Cael's head, and every now and then, his fingers unconsciously tightened around the one he held.
The room was still—except for the rhythm of their shared breathing and the faint whisper of the wind outside. It was a rare kind of peace, fragile and silent, untouched by fear, obsession, or danger. Drifting in a world where time itself seemed to pause, granting them a fleeting moment of peace after a night of intense heat and exhaustion.