Jorik didn't hesitate. His hands slid down Mara's back, fingers hooking into the waistband of her wrap skirt with a roughness that made her gasp.
The leather ties snapped like dried sinew under his grip, the fabric pooling at her feet in a rustle of deerskin and beads. Her bare thighs pressed against his, the heat between them a furnace.
Mara's breath hitched as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist like a vice. The loincloth between them did nothing to hide the throbbing length of him, the damp spot where her arousal had seeped through the thin leather.
The central post groaned as he pinned her against it, the wood creaking under their combined weight.
Mara's teeth found his shoulder, biting down hard enough to draw blood. The pain sharpened his focus, sent electricity crackling down his spine.
His hips jerked forward, the ridge of his cock grinding against her soaked folds through the maddening barrier of fabric. Mara arched against him with a choked noise, her nails scoring his ribs.
"Stop teasing," she snarled, her voice ragged.
" Hmhmhm..."
Jorik's laugh was a dark rumble against her throat. He hooked a thumb under his loincloth, shoving it aside just enough to free himself.
The head of his cock dragged through her slickness, drawing a shudder from them both. Mara's hips bucked, seeking friction, but he held her still, savoring the way her muscles clenched around nothing.
"Say it mother, say what you want from your son," he demanded, his breath hot against her ear.
Mara's answer was a growl, her hips rolling in a slow, taunting circle. "Breed me. Breed me and fill my belly with your seed..."
Jorik let out a dark smile hearing that and he didn't make her ask twice.
He drew his hips back just enough to align the tip of his cock with her entrance. Then, in one swift, decisive thrust, he buried himself to the hilt—her body yielding around him with a sharp gasp that rang more like a victory cry than any sound of surrender.
"Aahh Yeahh...~"
Mara's head slammed back against the post, her braids swinging wildly. The beads clattered like dice as she tightened around him, her inner muscles pulsing in a rhythm that threatened to undo him immediately.
Jorik gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold still even as her scorching heat threatened to pull him under completely.
After drawing in a slow, shaky breath, he rasped, "Umm, Mother… you feel so fucking delicious."
Then he eased his hips back just enough—only to snap them forward again.
The sharp, wet slap of skin against skin filled the lean-to, underscored by Mara's ragged breathing and the creak of the straining post.
"Umm~"
"Yeah~"
Her thighs clamped tighter around Jorik's hips as he withdrew almost completely, leaving her gasping at the sudden emptiness before slamming back in with enough force to make her teeth clack together. Mara's nails dug crescent moons into his shoulders, her body arching like a drawn bowstring.
"Harder," she snarled, her voice shredded.
The command sent a fresh surge of heat through Jorik's veins. He obliged, his hips pistoning with brutal efficiency, each thrust driving her higher up the post until her braids brushed the ceiling.
The beads rattled like a shaman's warning with every movement, a counterpoint to the wet slap of their joining.
And then he felt, something primal uncoiling in his gut—not just desire, but power. With every snap of his hips slaping his mother's hips, he could feel strength flooding his muscles, his senses sharpening until he could count each individual bead of sweat rolling down Mara's collarbone.
Her scent—wild, unmistakably female, and utterly intoxicating—wrapped around him like something alive. It pulled him in helplessly; he leaned forward and dragged his tongue slowly up the salty curve of her sweaty neck, tasting the woman who had nurtured him through every harsh and tender moment of his life.
Mara's body shuddered under the wet heat of his tongue as it roamed her skin like a wolf licking its captured prey. The thought alone sent a fresh rush of liquid heat spilling from her core—her womb clenching, slickness intensifying in waves that left her trembling and aching for more.
Her breath came in short, sharp pants now, her fingers scrabbling for purchase against the sweat-slicked post.
Jorik caught her wrists in one hand, pinning them above her head as he changed the angle of his thrusts. The effect was immediate—Mara's back arched violently, her cry strangled as her inner muscles clenched around him like a vise.
"You feel that, mother?" Jorik growled against her ear, his voice roughened by exertion. He punctuated each word with a deep, grinding thrust that had her toes curling. "That's your body begging to get breeding by me... your SON!"
Saying so, he gave her one brutal thrust—burying himself to the hilt as the first thick jet of his seed erupted straight into his mother's womb. Mara's thighs locked and convulsed around Jorik's waist, trembling violently as he flooded her to the brim.
"Aahhmmm...~"
Her nails—still pinned above her head—dug into the wooden post hard enough to splinter the grain. A raw, guttural sound tore from her throat—half growl, half shattered scream—as her body clamped down on him in merciless, rhythmic waves as she climaxed with her son.
Jorik's vision blanked for a heartbeat, the pleasure so sharp it edged into agony. Heat roared through his veins, pooling molten and heavy in his gut.
Mara's release triggered something deeper in him—not just pleasure, but power. The mark between his shoulder blades burned as if branded fresh, sending tendrils of energy coursing through his limbs.
Jorik's lips peeled back in a feral grin. He released her wrists only to grip her hips, flipping them so her back hit the furs with a whump.
" What—?"
Mara barely had time to register the change before he was on her, his knees forcing her thighs wide as he plunged back inside. The new angle drew a broken noise from her throat—this time, unmistakably a sob.
"Aahhh~"
But quickly her sob twisted into a laugh—wild and unhinged—as Jorik's hips snapped forward again.
Her fingers knotted in the furs beneath them, her body arching to meet each thrust with desperate hunger.
The scent of their coupling hung thick in the air, musk and sweat and something darker, something that made Jorik's teeth ache with the need to bite, to claim. He dragged his mouth down her throat, tasting salt and the iron tang of her pulse.
Her legs locked around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as if to fuse them together. Jorik growled against her skin, the sound reverberating through her ribs.
The power thrumming beneath his skin had grown teeth—he could feel it coiling tighter with every ragged breath Mara took, every time her nails scored his flank.
The firelight painted Mara's body in gold and shadow, highlighting the sweat-slicked hollows between her muscles.
Jorik watched, transfixed, as her breasts bounced with each brutal thrust, the dark nipples pebbled tight. He caught one in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out, her hips jerking erratically beneath him.
Mara's hands fisted in his hair, yanking his head back to meet her gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, the usual sharp amber of her irises swallowed by black.
"Look at you," she panted, her voice raw. "Like a starved wolf finally let off its leash." Her hips rolled, dragging him deeper, and Jorik's vision blurred at the edges.
His thrusts turned erratic, the steady rhythm splintering as Mara clenched around him with deliberate intent—milking him ruthlessly with every deep inward stroke.
Her breath caught in a sharp, silent hitch—a fleeting warning—then her body seized around him again. This climax struck fiercer than the first: her back arched violently off the furs, spine bowing as a raw, wordless scream ripped from her throat.
But this climax was no ending.
Mara and Jorik were nowhere near sated; their bodies, slick and trembling, already hungered again, muscles coiling with the promise of more—deeper, rougher, slower this time, as though they could devour one another until nothing remained but heat and breath and the raw edge of want.
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