Chapter 20: Banquet Claim
The hot spring had soothed the worst of the ache, but a deeper, more insistent warmth had taken root in Taichi’s belly. It hummed alongside the strange, dual pulse he was beginning to feel beneath his navel. By the time they dressed in the soft, unfamiliar robes laid out for them—Ryuu’s a deep crimson, Taichi’s a subtle silver—the feeling had coiled into a persistent, distracting throb.
The Great Hall was a masterpiece of silent intimidation. The dragon skeleton hanging from the arched ceiling was indeed real, its bones lacquered a gleaming black, each rib longer than Taichi was tall. Torches flickered in sconces carved from vertebrae, casting living shadows that made the runes on the walls seem to writhe. Hana was already seated on a cushion at the low, obsidian table, looking small and unnerved. She gave a tight, relieved smile when she saw them.
“Took your time,” she said, her voice echoing slightly. “The walls stopped whispering, but I think the skeleton’s judging my posture.”
Ryuu ignored her, his focus entirely on guiding Taichi to the place of honor at the table’s head. He sat close, their thighs touching, a line of heat even through the layers of silk. Servants—human-seeming, but with eyes that held a telltale, metallic sheen—flowed in with platters of food: roasted meats glistening with honey, strange tuberous vegetables, bread that smelled of hearth-smoke and ancient grain.
The first bite was delicious. The second made Taichi’s mouth water for something else entirely.
A wave of pure, carnal heat rolled through him, so sudden it stole his breath. It was the hormones, Ryuu had warned him of this volatility, but the reality was a lightning strike to his nervous system. His skin felt too sensitive, the brush of his own robe against his nipples a sharp delight. Between his legs, a familiar, slick wetness began to pool, embarrassingly fast. He shifted on his cushion, trying to find relief from the pressure.
Ryuu, tearing a piece of meat with his fingers, went very still. His nostrils flared.
“Eat,” he commanded, but his voice had dropped an octave. He brought the morsel to Taichi’s lips. The gesture was possessive, ceremonial. Taichi opened his mouth, his tongue darting out to take the food, and he saw Ryuu’s pupils swallow the gold of his irises. The taste of the meat, of Ryuu’s salt-tinged fingers, sent another vicious jolt of desire straight to his groin. He whimpered, a soft, traitorous sound.
Under the table, Ryuu’s hand landed on his thigh, high up. His fingers dug in, a branding pressure.
“You are dripping for me,” Ryuu murmured, for his ears only. It wasn’t a question. His hand slid higher, pushing the robe aside, until his rough fingertips grazed the soaked silk of Taichi’s underwear. A choked gasp caught in Taichi’s throat. Ryuu’s finger pressed, circling through the fabric, and Taichi jerked, his elbow knocking his goblet. The honeyed wine sloshed.
Hana, trying to lighten the suffocating tension, reached for her own wine. “So, uh, the ventilation in this place is amazing, really top-notch—” Her hand, unsteady, fumbled. The polished obsidian was slick. Her goblet tipped, clattering, a river of deep red wine spreading across the dark table like blood.
The smell hit the air—fermented grapes, sweet and sharp.
And underneath it, now unmistakably free, the thick, cloying, intimate scent of Taichi’s arousal.
Ryuu moved.
A roar, elemental and deafening, erupted from him. He was a blur of crimson. One hand swept across the obsidian table. It wasn’t a push; it was a violent expulsion of force. The massive table, laden with food and drink, flipped end over end as if made of parchment, crashing against the far wall with a catastrophic crunch of stone and shattering porcelain.
Hana screamed, scrambling backward.
Taichi found himself on his back on the cold, polished floor, the wind knocked from his lungs. Ryuu was over him, atop him, a cage of furious heat. His robe was torn open, his cock already fully erect, thick and ruddy and leaking. The feral gold of his eyes held no humanity, only a dragon’s stark, consuming need.
“Mine,” the beast snarled.
There was no finesse. No patience. Ryuu hooked his hands under Taichi’s knees, wrenching his legs up and apart, bending him nearly in half. The position was brutally exposing. The cool air hit Taichi’s soaked sex before Ryuu’s desperate mouth did. He licked, a broad, ravishing stroke from perineum to cleft, groaning at the taste. “Fucking saturated. Every drop is mine.”
He reared up, aligned himself, and drove home.
The invasion was a white-hot split. Taichi screamed, his back arching off the stone. He was still tender from before, and Ryuu was huge, and there was no give, only taking. Ryuu buried himself to the root in one brutal thrust, the impact shuddering through both of them.
“Yes! Clench on me like that,” Ryuu growled, his voice ragged. He didn’t wait, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a punishing, relentless rhythm. The slick, wet sounds of the fuck were obscenely loud in the vast hall. Each drove forced a sharp cry from Taichi’s throat, each withdrawal a sob.
Ryuu’s claws were out, pricking the soft skin of Taichi’s inner thighs, holding him open, claiming him. He leaned down, biting at Taichi’s throat, his lips, anything he could reach. “Gonna fill this greedy cunt until it overflows. Gonna pump my seed so deep into your womb it takes root in your soul. You feel that? You feel how you were made for this? To take your lord?”
The filthy, possessive words detonated in Taichi’s brain. The pain was transmuting, burning into a pleasure so acute it was agony. His own cock, trapped between their sweat-slicked bodies, leaked helplessly with every jarring thrust. He was being fucked apart on a stone floor, in front of ruins of a feast, with his best friend likely watching, and his body was singing, welcoming the violation, demanding it.
“Ryuu! Fuck, please—”
“Please what?” Ryuu snarled, hammering into him. “Beg. Beg for it.”
“Please, give it to me,” Taichi sobbed, his sanity unraveling. “Fill me up, I need it, I need—”
With a victorious roar, Ryuu pistoned into him, his rhythm shattering into frantic, deep jabs. Taichi felt the hot, sudden gush deep inside, a flood of claiming heat that seemed to have no end. The sensation tipped him over the edge. His orgasm ripped through him, silent and searing, his vision bleaching to white as his channel clamped viscously around the pulsing cock buried within him.
Ryuu collapsed, shuddering, his full weight pressing Taichi into the unforgiving stone. He nuzzled the fresh bite mark on Taichi’s shoulder, licking the sweat. “Mine,” he panted, the word softer now, saturated with a terrible satisfaction.
For long moments, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing echoing in the hall. Then, a small, shell-shocked voice from the shadows.
“Okay,” Hana said, her tone flat with surreal acceptance. “So. That happened.” A pause. “I’m just gonna… go find where the whispering walls moved the spare bedrooms. You two… carry on.”
Her footsteps retreated, hurried and unsteady.
Ryuu slowly pulled out, and Taichi cried out at the sudden emptiness, the feel of seed already leaking from him. Ryuu gathered him up, cradling him against his chest, heedless of the mess. He carried Taichi from the desecrated hall, past the shattered table and the ruined feast, back into the labyrinth of stone.
The estate felt different around them. The hum in the walls was a lower, more resonant frequency. The attendants they passed bowed their heads, not in simple respect, but in deep, primal acknowledgement. Their lord had reaffirmed his claim in the most ancient way, and the mountain itself had borne witness.
Taichi, held tight against Ryuu’s chest, felt the twins stir within him for the first time—not a pulse, but a distinct, answering ripple of movement. As if they, too, had felt the fury and the possession and the flood of lifeforce.
He was no longer just a carrier, or a mate.
He was conquered territory. And in the devastating aftermath of the conquest, he had never felt more complete, or more terrified of what that completeness would demand.