Chapter 5: The Consummation
I press my palms flat against Gromm's chest plate, the iron ring throbbing against my finger as I meet his amber eyes. "Go ahead," I say, my voice steadier than I feel, "make me yours." Behind me, Mythias's chains rattle as he strains against them, but I do not turn. I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
Gromm's massive hands close around my waist, and I feel the heat of his palms through the moon-silk. He lifts me as though I weigh nothing, setting me on the edge of the marriage bed. The fabric rustles beneath me, cool against my thighs. His tusked face hovers close to mine, and I catch the scent of leather and woodsmoke clinging to his skin.
"Look at me," he rumbles, and his voice is low, almost gentle. "Not at him."
I obey. My eyes lock onto his amber gaze, and I feel the world narrowing to just this moment, just this orc who holds my kingdom in his fist. His fingers find the lacings of my gown, and he pulls them loose with surprising dexterity. The moon-silk slides from my shoulders, pooling at my waist, leaving my breasts bare to the cool chamber air.
Behind me, Mythias lets out a choked sound. I hear the chains creak as he pulls against them.
Gromm's eyes travel over my exposed skin, and I feel a flush creeping up my chest. His thumb brushes across my nipple, and I gasp despite myself. The sensation is sharp, electric, and my body betrays me by arching into his touch.
"There," he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. "That is what I wanted to see."
His thumb circles my nipple, slowly, deliberately, and I hear the faint rattle of chains from behind me. Mythias is watching. I know it. But I keep my eyes on Gromm, on the way his amber gaze traces over my bare skin like he is memorizing every curve.
He works the gown lower, guiding it down my hips until it slips free entirely, leaving me naked before him. The air kisses my skin, raising goosebumps across my thighs. He does not rush. Each inch of fabric he peels away is a deliberate act, a declaration. He wants Mythias to see every moment of this.
"There," Gromm says again, his voice a low rumble. "Now you will undress me."
My hands tremble as he takes them and places them on the leather straps of his chest plate. His fingers guide mine to the buckles, showing me how they work. I fumble with the first clasp, my fingers clumsy, but he is patient. He waits, his breath warm against my forehead, as I work the leather loose.
The chest plate falls away, revealing the broad expanse of his chest. Dusky green skin stretches over hard muscle, crisscrossed with old scars. I can feel the heat radiating off him. His hands move to my wrists, directing my palms down to his belt.
"Here," he says, his voice thick. "Undo this."
I obey. My fingers find the heavy iron buckle, and I unfasten it with a click. The belt falls open, and I hesitate. He takes my hands again, pressing them flat against the rough fabric of his trousers.
"Push them down," he instructs.
I slide the trousers over his hips, and they drop to pool at his ankles. And then his cock springs free, rising thick and heavy before me. I gasp. I have seen it before, in the baths, but this close it is overwhelming. The head is dark, flushed with blood, and the shaft is veined and straining toward me. A pulse of heat blooms between my legs, and I feel the slickness gathering there, betraying me.
Gromm's hand cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. "You want this," he says. It is not a question.
I am afraid," I whisper, the admission slipping out before I can stop it. My voice sounds small, fragile in the cavernous space of the royal chambers.
Gromm's thumb traces my jawline, a surprisingly tender gesture that contrasts with the hardness in his amber eyes. "I know," he says. "But I also know how to open you up. Trust me in this, little queen."
He lifts me easily, repositioning my body on the bed until my hips rest at the very edge of the mattress. I feel the cool air against my thighs as he spreads them wide, parting me open. The position is deliberate. Exposing. And I realize with a jolt that he has angled me toward Mythias.
The chains rattle violently. A guttural sound escapes Mythias's throat, half growl, half anguish. I hear the scrape of his boots against the marble as he strains against his bonds. When I risk a glance, I see the bulge straining against his torn trousers, and a dark flush spreads across his angular features.
Gromm chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through the air. "Watch closely, elf captain. This is what your queen chose."
Then his fingers find me.
They slide through my slick folds, parting the wetness that has gathered there despite my shame. I gasp as he circles my entrance, deliberately, slowly, showing me how my body responds to his touch. His thumb finds the nub at my apex, pressing down in that same rhythm he used in the baths, and my hips buck involuntarily.
"Already so wet," he murmurs, and there is satisfaction in his voice. "Your body knows what it needs, even if your mind fights it."
I bite my lip, trying to suppress the moan that threatens to escape as he slides one thick finger inside me. The stretch is sudden, intense, and I grip the bedsheets beneath me. He works it deeper, curling it against my inner walls, and I feel the heat building low in my belly.
In front of me, Mythias lets out a string of elven curses, his voice cracking with frustration.
"One more," Gromm says, and a second finger joins the first, spreading me wider. I cry out at the sensation, my legs trembling as he pumps them in and out of my aching core.
My resistance cracks, splintering like dry kindling beneath his touch. The pleasure builds, winding tighter in my belly, and I feel my hips rolling against his hand of their own accord. I am grinding onto his fingers, taking them deeper, and the shame of it burns hot against the pleasure.
"Do not fight it," Gromm growls, his voice dropping low. "Let them hear you. Let him hear you."
His fingers curl, pressing against that spot inside me, and my back arches off the bed. A moan tears from my throat, raw and desperate, and I hear the sound echo through the chamber. Mythias's chains rattle violently in response, but the sound is distant, muffled by the blood rushing in my ears.
Gromm's thumb presses harder against my nub, circling with relentless precision, and I feel the heat coiling tighter, tighter, until I am trembling on the edge of release. My hands fly to his shoulders, gripping the hard muscle there, my nails digging into his skin.
"Yes," he urges, his voice a command. "Now."
I shatter.
The orgasm crashes through me like a wave, my body convulsing against his hand as I cry out. My vision blurs, the world dissolving into sensation. I hear myself moaning his name, a broken sound that I barely recognize as my own. His fingers do not stop, working me through the peak, drawing out every last tremor until I collapse against the bed, gasping.
When my vision clears, I find Gromm watching me with those amber eyes, dark with hunger. He lifts his fingers to his mouth, tasting my wetness, and a sound of satisfaction rumbles from his chest.
"Now," he says, positioning himself between my thighs, the head of his cock pressing against my slick entrance. "Now you are ready for me."
Gromm kneels on the edge of the bed between my thighs, his massive hands gripping my knees and pushing them back toward my shoulders. The position is obscene, exposing everything. I feel the cool air against my slick folds, against the tight ring of my ass, and I know that Mythias sees it all. I know he sees the glistening evidence of my arousal, sees the way my body opens and welcomes the orc who has claimed me.
A low, guttural sound escapes Mythias. When I glance past Gromm's broad shoulder, I see the elf captain's jaw clenched so tight the muscles stand out like cords. His cock strains against his torn trousers, a dark stain spreading at the tip. He does not look away. He cannot.
Gromm positions the head of his cock at my entrance. I feel it pressing against me, thick and hot, and I suck in a breath. He holds there, letting me feel the weight of it, letting the anticipation build until I am trembling beneath him.
"Watch," Gromm says, and I know the command is not for me.
He pushes forward.
The stretch is searing. I cry out as his cock breaches me, inch by inch, spreading my walls around his girth. My fingers claw at the bedsheets, my back arching off the mattress. He is so thick, so deep, and I feel myself struggling to accommodate him. But my body yields, my slickness easing his advance, and I hear his breath hitch as he sinks fully into me.
I look past him, past the sweat beading on his brow, and I see Mythias. His fists are clenched, his chains taut. The bulge in his trousers is painfully hard, and a vein pulses in his temple. His face is a mask of fury and arousal, and the sight of it sends a shiver through me.
Gromm's ass cheeks tighten as he begins to move, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back in. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the chamber, wet and rhythmic. I moan, unable to stop myself, and the sound mingles with the rattle of Mythias's chains.
I hear the wet slap of Gromm's balls against my ass with each thrust, a primal sound that echoes through the chamber. His pace is relentless, each stroke driving deeper, spreading me open around his thickness. The iron ring on my finger pulses with a dull ache, but the pleasure building in my core drowns it out.
A guttural growl tears from Mythias's throat. I glance past Gromm's heaving shoulder and see the elf captain pressed against the wall, his hips jerking in desperate, abortive thrusts against the stone. His chains rattle as he strains, his bound wrists unable to reach the cock that strains against his torn trousers. The dark stain has spread, a glistening patch of wetness that grows with every helpless twitch of his hips.
"Fuck," Mythias snarls, the word tearing from him like a wound. His eyes are wild, fixed on the place where Gromm's cock disappears into my body. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, tracing the jagged scar on his cheek.
Gromm's rhythm quickens. He drives into me with a grunt, his thick arms caging me in as he leans forward, his chest pressing against my breasts. The angle shifts, and his cock strikes something deep inside me that makes my vision white. I cry out, my nails raking down his back, and he responds with a guttural purr of approval.
"Yes," he rasps against my ear. "Let him hear what I do to you."
His hips piston faster, harder, the sound of our bodies meeting filling the chamber. I feel the pressure building again, coiling tight in my belly. My legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper, and I hear Mythias let out a broken sound half growl, half sob as he grinds helplessly against the unyielding stone.
The pressure in my core builds to an unbearable peak, coiling tighter with each brutal thrust. Gromm's cock stretches me wide, filling me completely, and I feel the walls of my sex clenching around him as my body prepares for release. The sensation is overwhelming, a flood of heat that rises from my belly and spreads through every nerve.
"I am going to come," I gasp, the words torn from me before I can stop them. My hips roll against his, meeting his thrusts, desperate for the release that teeters just out of reach.
"Yes," Gromm growls, his voice feral and low. "Come for me, little queen. Let them hear you come undone."
His hand slides between our bodies, his thumb finding my nub and pressing down hard. The added stimulation is too much. My back arches off the bed, a scream tearing from my throat as the climax crashes through me. My vision whites out, my body convulsing around his cock, squeezing him in rhythmic pulses as waves of pleasure ripple through my core.
Gromm bellows, a deep, primal roar that shakes the air. His hips slam forward, driving his cock as deep as it can go, and I feel the hot flood of his seed spilling inside me. He grunts, feral and raw, his body shuddering against mine as he pumps his release into my depths. Each pulse of his cock sends another wave of warmth spreading through my womb.
"That is it," he rasps, his voice thick with triumph. "I am going to breed you, little queen. I am going to fill you with my seed until your belly swells with my heir. Let your loyal knight watch as I plant my claim deep inside you."
Behind him, I hear a choked cry. Mythias's chains rattle violently as his body convulses against the wall. A strangled sound escapes his throat, half sob, half groan, and I see his hips jerk in desperate, abortive thrusts against the stone. His seed spurts across the dark fabric of his trousers, a shameful stain spreading as he climaxes, his body betraying him in the most humiliating way.
When the last tremors fade, he slumps against the chains, his head hanging low, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in his eyes has dimmed, replaced by something hollow and broken.
Gromm lowers his head, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath hot and ragged against my skin. "It is done," he murmurs, and there is something almost tender in his voice. "You are mine now. And he knows it."