Alaric's hands dug into her hips, his knuckles white. The pressure in his chest was a coiled spring, tight and heavy. He surged faster now, his breath hitching into sharp, ragged grunts that filled the small space.
Roslin's eyes snapped open, her dark pupils swallowing the iris. She stared up at the man who had torn her from her home—the man now claiming her bit by bit. With one final, forceful lunge, Alaric buried himself deep. Roslin's body went taut. Her breath caught as a wave of heat crashed over her, and she let out a jagged cry that was lost to the wind howling outside.
The rush hit Alaric like a fever, but he wasn't done. As her body pulsed around him, he gripped her thighs and pulled back with a slick, heavy slide. He let out a low, rough sound as he finished, the heat spilling across her stomach and the torn silk of her dress.
Roslin lay there shaking, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She thought the moment had passed, but before she could move, Alaric's hands were on her waist again. He flipped her over in one swift motion.
He pressed her down onto her hands and knees, forcing her face into the thick, dark furs of the cloack.
"My Lord... I can't..." she breathed, though her hips instinctively tilted back to meet him. She was spent, her muscles buzzing with a dull ache, but the heat of his chest against her back jolted her wide awake. She was a wire pulled tight, waiting for the snap.
Alaric didn't answer. He wrapped a hand in her hair, pulling her head back just enough to tighten the skin of her throat. Then, aided by the slickness, he drove back into her, bottoming out in a single, heavy motion.
Roslin's back snapped into an arch. A scream caught in her throat as he began to drive into her again with a heavy, steady rhythm. This time, he was deeper than before, hitting her with a force that made her whole body vibrate. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed off the stone walls, louder than the wind outside.
"My Lord! Oh... God!" she cried out, her fingers digging deep into the dark fur.
Alaric didn't slow down. He reached around to grip her breasts, his hands rough and demanding as he used her to burn off the rest of his adrenaline. He kept going until her loud cries faded into a soft, broken whimpering. She was completely spent, her body moving only because he made it move. By the time his pace finally shifted, Roslin had slumped forward, her forehead pressed into the furs, totally broken in by a man whose name she barely knew.
The sound of his thrusts filled the hollow one last time. He could feel her muscles twitching and clenching around him, even as she hung her head, her hair falling over her face like a curtain.
As the final rush hit him, Alaric gripped her hips. He pulled out of her. Roslin let out a weak, shaky moan—not because she wanted him to stop, but because of the sudden, cold emptiness.
Alaric didn't move away. He stayed on his knees behind her, his breath coming in jagged, rough growls. He gripped himself and finished, the heat splashing across her lower back and the curve of her spine. It felt like fire against her skin in the cold air.
Roslin's strength finally gave out. Her arms buckled, and she collapsed flat against the furs, her skin damp and cooling quickly in the drafty air. Her breath came in shallow, jagged hitches.
"No more... please, my Lord..." she muttered into the dark fabric, her voice nothing more than a ghost of a sound. She didn't have the energy to move a finger, let alone crawl away.
Alaric stayed still for a moment, his chest heaving against her back. Then, he shifted. He rolled onto his side and reached out, his large hand hooking around her waist to pull her back against him. He didn't say a word, but the heat radiating from his body was the only thing keeping the winter chill at bay.
Roslin didn't fight him. As he settled behind her, she simply tipped backward, her head falling onto his shoulder and her body sinking into his chest. The transition from the violent intensity of moments ago to this heavy stillness was jarring.
She tried to keep her eyes open, to make sense of the man holding her, but the world was already blurring. Her eyelashes fluttered once, twice, and then stayed shut. In the time it took to draw one full, deep breath, she was gone—dropping into a deep, dreamless sleep before the heat of his seed had even finished cooling on her skin.
Alaric didn't move. He looked down at the blood and seed staining her thighs, then pulled his heavy cloak over both of them.
"System," he though. "Clean the area. Clean her and me as well. I don't want to wake up in this mess."
The translucent blue interface flared to life in his peripheral vision, deducting the points.
[Utility Protocol: Restoration]
Cost: 1 Monarch Point (MP) Effect: Complete molecular restoration of fabrics, removal of biological fluids, and neutralization of atmospheric scents.
[Utility Protocol: Personal Hygiene (Target: Roslin Frey)]
Cost: 1 MP Effect: Removal of biological fluids (semen, sweat, vaginal lubrication) and restoration of skin comfort.
[Utility Protocol: Personal Hygiene (Host: Alaric Thorne)]
Cost: 1 MP Effect: Removal of sweat and fluids.
A faint, golden shimmer rippled through the stone hollow. In an instant, the sharp, musky scent of their union vanished, replaced by the crisp, biting smell of the mountain air and lavender.
The dark, glistening stains of her lost innocence on the fur were gone, as were the heavy streaks of his release on her stomach and spine. Roslin's skin was suddenly soft and dry, the cooling fluids evaporated into nothingness.
"Search: High-Quality Bedding," he commanded.
[Item: Monarch's Traveling Bundle] Cost: 50 MP
Description: A heavy, fur-lined blanket woven with enchanted fibers that generate and trap a steady 22°C (72°F) temperature, regardless of external conditions.
"Buy."
With a faint shimmer, a thick, slate-grey blanket appeared in his hands. It was heavier than the wool they had used, the inner lining made of a fur so soft it felt like a cloud. He laid Roslin down on the restored furs and wrapped her tightly in the new blanket, tucking the edges around her shoulders until she was a warm, safe cocoon against the stone.
As he pulled a portion of the heavy cover over his own chest, Roslin stirred in her deep, exhausted sleep. Her body, though restored to physical comfort by the System, instinctively sought the only source of security she had left.
With a soft, sleepy whimper, she shifted her weight, her head sliding from the furs to rest naturally in the crook of Alaric's shoulder. She nuzzled into him, eventually laying her head directly on top of his chest, her small hand curling into the leather of his tunic.
The preternatural heat of his body, combined with the magical warmth of the bedding, finally stilled her tremors. Alaric did not push her away; he simply rested his heavy arm over her, his hand settling on her waist in a final, possessive claim as he closed his eyes.
As the silence of the hollow deepened, the translucent blue interface flared to life one last time in his mind's eye, glowing with a triumphant, gold-rimmed light.
[SOVEREIGN BOND ACCOMPLISHED]