Chapter 7: Coast of Kings
The salt-sting of the sea was buried under thicker things: crushed mortar, split timbers, the iron-rich stench of ruptured pipes and bodies ground into the mud. Kragor’s footprints were tidal pools of red slurry. He had not bothered with strategy. He had simply walked in from the surf, water sheeting from his mountainous calves, and began to play.
Walls were things to lean against until they buckled. Towers were stalks of stone to be snapped. The panicked rivers of people fleeing inland were mere distractions, tiny, noisy things he sometimes stooped to scoop up by the handful. He would bring the clenched fist to his mouth, tilt his head back, and let them fall in. Their screams were a faint crunching, a seasoning. He was not particularly hungry, but he enjoyed the texture, the final, futile struggle against the wet heat of his tongue.
Laughter rumbled from him, a seismic event. He paused atop the ruined marketplace, the ribcage of its once-grand dome under his heel. With a deliberate, casual contempt, he unlaced his loincloth.
The arc of his piss was a violent, yellow cataract. It hammered down onto a square where survivors huddled, a crushing, acidic deluge that dissolved silk, scorched skin, and washed broken bodies through the streets in a steaming flood. Their cries were muffled, drowned. He shook himself off with a satisfied grunt, watching the chaos pool below.
Resistance was a pathetic sting. Ballista bolts were splinters he plucked from his hide. The touch of spell-fire was a brief, warm tickle on his shins. He swatted the mages’ tower and its flickering occupants into a cloud of singed meat and pulverized brick.
His shadow fell upon the castle, the last untouched thing. It was a delicate, spired folly. He squinted at the central keep, then down at his own groin. A low chuckle built in his chest. He reached for the bronze monument of the founding king that stood in the high courtyard, a figure proud on its steed. He held it, carefully, between thumb and forefinger. He brought it down, aligning it beside his thick, semi-aroused cock.
The contrast was obscene. The monument was smaller.
“Pathetic,” he boomed, his voice scattering the remaining clouds. His fingers closed. Bronze screeched, warped, and merged into a single ruined lump he dropped into the moat.
He didn’t knock. He turned, braced his hands on the battlements, and drove his hips forward.
The castle wall exploded inward. Stone groaned, masonry dust bloomed in a great cough. He fucked the hole, a deep, grinding thrust that made the very bedrock shudder. The rhythmic, colossal impacts sent tremors through the city ruins. He was not seeking release here; this was punctuation. A vulgar claim staked.
After a dozen world-shaking thrusts, he stopped. He reached down, fingers curling like digging tools under the roof of the great hall, and peeled it back. The squeal of tearing lead and snapping beams was immense. Daylight flooded the chamber below, illuminating the cowering court, the polished floor, the man in a gilt chair trying desperately to look regal.
Kragor’s face, a cliff of scarred flesh, filled the new opening. “Kneel,” he said. The word was not loud. It was final.
The King of the Coast, Elyas, looked at the splintered ruins of his city through the giant hole in his home. He slid from his throne. His knees hit the floor.
“What…” his voice was a dry rasp. He cleared it. “What do you want?”
Kragor’s eyes, like cave entrances, scanned the room. They passed over weeping women, over steel-clad guards trembling in their boots. They landed on two figures near the dais. Young men, barely past boyhood, with the same ginger hair and sharp features with a light beard, held back by an older knight. They stared up, not with terror, but with a fierce, burning hatred that fascinated him. It was a clean fuel, unlike Alaric’s cloying devotion.
He pointed. A finger like a tree trunk aimed at the twins. “Them.”
King Elyas followed the gesture. His composure cracked. “My sons? No. Take gold. Take anything else.”
“I am taking them,” Kragor said, boredom seeping into his tone. He shifted his weight; the castle groaned in protest, a shower of debris falling. “Or I finish fucking your castle until it’s gravel, and start on your skull. Your choice.”
The silence was total. The knight’s grip on the twins tightened. One of them, Cassian, spat on the floor.
King Elyas’s shoulders slumped, the last of his authority draining away. He did not look at his children. He stared at the shattered mosaic between his hands. “Take them.”
The twins were brought to him in chains, marched through the apocalyptic wasteland that was their home. Kragor had made camp in the lee of a shattered mountain, the corpse of the coastal city smoldering in the valley below. The air here was cleaner, cold.
Alaric was there, tending a fire that looked like a candle flame before Kragor. He saw the twins and his eyes lit with a familiar, ugly curiosity. “New pets, my king?”
“Fuel,” Kragor rumbled, settling his back against the mountainside. He gestured. The knight who had delivered them, looking hollow-eyed, scrambled to chain the boys to a thick outcrop of rock.
They were beautiful, in a sharp, untested way. Cassian, the one who had spat, held his head high. Aurelian, quieter, watched everything with the calculating eyes of a strategist, though his strategy had just been obliterated.
Kragor unlaced his breeches. His cock, still slick from the castle’s stone, swung free, rapidly thickening in the cold air. It was a monstrous thing, still smeared with dust and the evidence of his earlier play.
“You watched me break your city,” Kragor said to them, his voice conversational. “You watched your father kneel. Now you will serve what he could not defeat.”
Now you will serve what he could not defeat.
Kragor gestured with his chin toward the cowering strategist. "Alaric. Go. Find us a route north through the marshes." The dismissal was clear, final. Alaric’s face flickered with disappointment, his eyes lingering hungrily on the chained princes, but he bowed and scurried away into the gathering dusk.
Silence settled, broken only by the distant cry of carrion birds. Kragor turned his full attention to the twins. Cassian strained against his manacles, the chain biting into his wrists. "Go to hell, monster."
"Already there," Kragor said, a smirk playing on his lips. He walked forward, the ground trembling slightly. He stopped before Cassian, his massive hand closing around the prince’s jaw, forcing his head up. "I can smell your hate. It’s hot. But underneath?" He inhaled deeply, then chuckled. "It’s want. You’ve never seen anything like me. It frightens you. It hardens you."
Cassian’s eyes widened, his defiant snarl faltering. A traitorous flush crept up his neck.
"See?" Kragor released him and began working on the buckles of his own rugged gear. "You kings and princes, you love strength. You just hate being weak before it." His cock, fully erect now, sprang free. It was a terrifying, thick pillar of flesh, the head ruddy and wet. The sight stole the breath from both brothers.
Kragor pointed at Cassian. "You first, little firebrand. Let’s see if you burn or melt."
He didn’t wait for permission. He grabbed the chain between Cassian’s manacles and snapped it with a twist of his wrist. He shoved the prince face-first against the warm rock of the mountainside. One hand pinned Cassian’s shoulders, the other spat into its palm before guiding his cock to the prince’s clenched entrance.
"Relax," Kragor grunted, not a suggestion but a threat. He pushed.
Cassian screamed. It was a raw, shattered sound of pain and overwhelming invasion. His body fought the impossible girth, stretching brutally. Kragor leaned his weight in, sheathing himself to the hilt in one relentless, tearing thrust. "Fuck, yes. Tighter than your father’s treasury."
Then he moved. He set a devastating, deep rhythm from the first stroke, each withdrawal a drag over sensitized nerves, each slam a collision that knocked a choked sound from Cassian’s lungs. The prince’s fingers scraped against stone. Tears of pain blurred his vision. But soon, a treacherous heat began to coil in his gut, a perverse pleasure sparking from the very brutalization of his body.
"Fucking… monster," Cassian gasped, but his hips pushed back minutely.
"I know," Kragor growled, his pace quickening. The slap of his heavy balls against Cassian’s ass became a rapid, wet tattoo. He hooked a hand under Cassian’s thigh, hiking it up, bending him almost double to sink even deeper. "You feel that? That’s me rearranging your guts, prince. Making room."
Cassian’s protests melted into a broken moan. "Gods… oh, gods…"
"Wrong god," Kragor corrected, his thrusts becoming punishing, jackhammer-fast. He wrapped a massive arm around Cassian’s chest and lifted him clear off the ground, impaling him fully on his cock, using gravity to slam him down again and again. Cassian dangled, speared, every nerve alight.
"Please!" Cassian screamed, his voice cracking. "Don’t stop! Wreck me! Harder, you fucking beast, harder!"
Kragor laughed, a sound of pure carnal victory, and obliged. The force of his fucking shook them both. Cassian’s own cock, trapped between his stomach and the rock, rubbed mercilessly. His begging became a wordless, keening wail. His body seized, his back arching violently as his orgasm ripped through him, stripes of white painting the grey stone. He convulsed around Kragor’s cock, milking it.
Kragor never slowed. He drove through the prince’s climax, chasing his own. "Gonna breed this hole like the ruin you are," he snarled. Seconds later, he crushed Cassian against the rock, buried to the root, and roared. Hot pulses of his cum flooded Cassian’s depths, a seemingly endless torrent that spilled out around the stretching intrusion.
He dropped Cassian, who collapsed into a shuddering, gasping heap, seed already leaking from his used hole. Kragor turned, his cock slick and gleaming, toward Aurelian.
The quieter prince had watched it all, his breath shallow, a hand unconsciously pressed to his own groin. Kragor stalked over and unlocked his chains. "Your turn. But you're made different, aren't you?"
Aurelian met his gaze, fear and fascination warring. He gave a single, stiff nod.
"Good," Kragor rumbled. He pushed Aurelian onto his back on a patch of crushed fern. He didn't bother with the prince's trousers, just tore the fabric aside with a sharp tug. He leaned down, his broad head between Aurelian's thighs. His tongue, thick and surprisingly agile, laved a rough stripe over the prince's cunt.
Aurelian jolted, a sharp cry escaping him. Cassian, still panting, crawled over. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming. He began rubbing Aurelian's back, his touch gentle against the violence of Kragor's attention.
Kragor ate Aurelian out with a focused, brutal hunger. He fucked into him with his tongue, then sucked his clit between his lips, applying a pressure that made Aurelian's legs thrash. He was not tender; he was claiming, consuming. Aurelian clutched at his brother’s arm, his cries mounting, his hips lifting off the ground. He came with a shattered sob, his body bowing.
Kragor rose over him, not satisfied. He positioned his cock at Aurelian’s dripping entrance. "Now for the main course."
He entered him in one deep, possessing thrust. Aurelian's head fell back, his mouth open in a silent scream. Cassian watched, transfixed, his own spent body humming. "Look at him," Cassian breathed, awe in his voice. "Look at him take you, my king. He's so beautiful like this."
He leaned down and kissed Aurelian, deep and filthy, swallowing his brother's moans. The sight of the two broken princes kissing amidst the wreckage of their world sent a fresh, violent surge of lust through Kragor.
"Filthy," Kragor grunted, his thrusts growing even more powerful, pounding Aurelian into the earth. "My filthy little princes."
He made Aurelian come again, the prince's internal flutters a weak vibration around his massive girth. Then Kragor stilled, pushed deep, and filled him just as thoroughly as he had Cassian, his seed pumping in hot, claiming spurts.
He pulled out, still impossibly hard, his libido stoked to a furnace pitch by the deviant display. "Again. Both of you."
He sat back against the rock, his cock standing straight up like a monument. He pointed at Cassian. "You. On it." Cassian moved, wincing but eager, lowering himself onto the slick, spent-smeared shaft with a practiced groan.
Then Kragor grabbed Aurelian by the hair and pulled him toward his face. "You. Here." He dragged the prince up, positioning his cunt over his mouth. Aurelian gasped, bracing his hands on the rock above Kragor's head as he was lowered onto that devouring tongue.
Kragor feasted on one prince while the other rode him, a gluttonous king at a table of his own making. Cassian bounced, impaling himself, his praises for Kragor and his brother becoming a slurred, ecstatic chant. Aurelian, supported by Cassian's steadying hands on his hips, ground down against Kragor's mouth, his quiet reserve utterly shattered into breathless, pleading cries.
The mountain wind carried the sounds away—the wet slap of flesh, the choked pleas, the low, ceaseless growl of a god who had found a new, perfect way to conquer.
The mountain wind carried the sounds away—the wet slap of flesh, the choked pleas, the low, ceaseless growl of a god who had found a new, perfect way to conquer.
Cassian’s thighs burned from the effort of riding Kragor’s monstrous cock, each downward plunge a lightning strike of pain and blinding pleasure. Above him, supported by his brother’s trembling arms, Aurelian was coming apart on Kragor’s tongue, his head thrown back in a silent scream, his body shuddering through a second, sharper climax. “Cass… I can’t… I’m gonna…”
His cunt clenched rhythmically against Kragor’s mouth. That final, fluttering pulse was the trigger. Cassian, feeling his brother’s crisis, shattered. His own orgasm ripped through him with a broken shout, his seed spattering across Kragor’s ridged abdomen as he milked the giant’s shaft with his violently contracting hole.
Kragor released Aurelian with a wet sound, pushing him off. He gripped Cassian’s hips and lifted him clear, his cock slipping free with a slick, obscene pop. Both princes were panting, glistening with sweat, utterly spent. “On your knees,” Kragor commanded, his voice a gravelly rumble of impending release. “Now. Face me.”
They scrambled, their movements clumsy with exhaustion and submission. They knelt in the crushed ferns before him, their faces upturned. Cassian’s defiant glare was gone, replaced by a dazed, open-mouthed hunger. Aurelian’s usual calculation had melted into something slavish and yearning. Their eyes, wide and pleading, stared up at him with a blatant, sluttish need.
Kragor fisted his own cock, slick with their combined fluids. He was right on the edge, the pressure building at the base of his spine. “Open your mouths. Show me your tongues.”
They obeyed instantly, panting like eager dogs, their pink tongues on display.
He came.
The first thick, ropey jet streaked across Cassian’s forehead and into his ginger hair. The next splashed over Aurelian’s nose and lips. Kragor grunted, his body jerking, painting them in relentless pulses. He striped their chests, coated their throats, spattered their eyelids white. He aimed deliberately, thoroughly, until their faces and torsos were glazed and dripping, his seed matting the light hair on their bodies, pooling in the hollows of their collarbones.
They knelt perfectly still, taking it, their eyes worshipful slits through the sticky mess.
When the last drop fell, Kragor let his spent cock rest against Aurelian’s cum-smeared cheek. A choked sound escaped Cassian. He lunged forward, not toward Kragor, but toward his brother. He crushed his mouth against Aurelian’s, licking and sucking his own way through the mess on his twin’s face. Aurelian moaned into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle Cassian’s head, sharing the bitter, salty load between them, swallowing it.
They broke apart, breathing heavily, strings of saliva and semen connecting their lips.
“This,” Cassian gasped, looking up at Kragor, his voice raw with revelation. “This is what we wanted. Always.”
Aurelian nodded, nuzzling into Cassian’s sticky neck. “To be together. To serve… to please a man like this. A real man. Not the puppets our father would have made us marry.”
“We dreamed of it in whispers,” Cassian admitted, his hand finding Aurelian’s. “Of being free to love each other, and to belong to something… brutal and true.”
Kragor wiped his cock clean on Cassian’s shoulder, a casual, possessive gesture. “I know.” He fastened his breeches, the sound loud in the quiet. “I smelled the lie on you the moment I saw you in that hall. The stink of polished secrecy. It’s gone now. You reek of me.”
He looked north, toward the frozen marshes and the kingdoms beyond. “You’ll travel with me. You’ll join Adrian. He’s another slut who found his purpose on my cock.” A cold, expansive smile touched his lips. “He’ll teach you the routines. You are part of my harem now.”
The twins shivered, not from the cold, but from a perverse, thrilling acceptance.
Kragor turned, his gaze boring into them. “Only two more sluts remain to be brought in. Then the set will be complete.” He began walking toward the path Alaric had taken, his voice floating back. “Clean yourselves up. We march at first light. Your education begins.”
The cold of the high marsh seeped into bones already aching with new uses. Dawn bled grey light over a landscape of sucking peat and skeletal black trees. Cassian walked, each step a symphony of pain from muscles torn and a hole that throbbed with the memory of violation. Beside him, Aurelian’s silence was a denser fog. Alaric led them, his glances back sharp with a jealous spite he didn’t bother to hide.
Kragor moved ahead, a shifting mountain against the flat horizon. The sight of him, even from behind, pulled at something low in Cassian’s gut. It wasn’t just fear. It was a horrible, magnetic hunger. He found his feet moving faster, closing the distance until he walked just within the giant’s shadow.
“The others,” Cassian ventured, his voice rough from disuse and screaming. “This Adrian. And the ones not yet… collected.” He swallowed. “When we are all yours. In your harem.”
Kragor didn’t break stride. “What of it?”
“Are we… permitted to lie with each other?” The question left him in a rush. Aurelian’s head snapped up, watching.
A low chuckle vibrated the ground. Kragor looked down, his eyes gleaming with understanding. “I encourage my harem to lay with each other,” he said, his tone casual, as if discussing rations. “You’re more than welcome to play with each other. Fuck each other senseless. It keeps you busy. It keeps you hungry for the real thing.” His gaze hardened, pinning Cassian. “But you belong to me. Your mouths, your cunts, your asses. Anyone outside the harem is forbidden. That is the only law.”
Cassian’s breath hitched. A wild, relieved joy surged through him, hot and immediate. He looked back at Aurelian, a grin breaking through the grime and dried spunk on his face. “Do you hear that?”
“I hear,” Aurelian whispered, a faint, answering light in his own eyes.
“I’m excited about that,” Cassian said, turning his grin up to Kragor, defiant in his admission.
“I know you are,” Kragor rumbled. He stopped walking. They had reached a barren ridge overlooking a frozen mere. “Show me.”
Alaric halted, twisting his hands together, his face pale.
“Here?” Cassian asked, the wind cutting through his torn clothes.
“Now.” Kragor leaned against a gargantuan petrified stump, his arms crossed. “I’m cold. Warm me up with a show.”
The twins looked at each other. No more secrecy. No more polished lies. This was a command, an examination, and a gift all at once. Cassian closed the gap between them. His hands, which had only ever touched his brother in hidden, frantic nights, now framed Aurelian’s face openly. He kissed him. It was not gentle. It was a claiming, a messy, tongue-deep exploration that tasted of salt and yesterday’s cum. Aurelian moaned into it, his own hands grabbing fistfuls of Cassian’s tunic.
“Get those pathetic rags off,” Kragor ordered, his voice a lash.
They broke apart, fumbling with numb fingers at laces and buttons. The biting air pebbled their skin. Soon they were bare, two pale, bruised forms against the dead landscape. Cassian pushed Aurelian to his knees on the frozen moss. He stood over him, his cock, half-hard from the kiss and the sheer audacity of the act, bobbing near his brother’s mouth.
“Suck him,” Kragor said, not to Cassian, but to Aurelian. “Let me see how you serve your blood.”
Aurelian’s lips parted. He took Cassian in, his tongue swirling around the head before sinking down. Cassian’s head fell back, a ragged “Fuck…” escaping his lips. He tangled his hands in Aurelian’s ginger hair, not guiding, just holding on as wet heat engulfed him. The sight of his prim, strategic brother on his knees, sucking cock with a desperate, hungry rhythm, sent a brutal surge of lust through Cassian’s core.
“Look at me,” Kragor commanded.
Cassian forced his eyes open, dragging his gaze from the sublime pressure of Aurelian’s mouth to Kragor’s impassive face. The giant’s own hand was stroking the immense bulge in his breeches, a slow, tantalizing movement.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” Kragor asked.
“Yes,” Cassian gasped.
“He’s dreaming it’s my cock. Aren’t you, slut?”
Aurelian whined around Cassian’s length, a vibration that made Cassian’s knees tremble. He nodded, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration and shameful pleasure.
Cassian couldn’t last. The cold, the exposure, the watching god, the skilled, familiar mouth—it was too much. “Auri, I’m gonna—” he warned, but Aurelian just took him deeper, his throat working. Cassian came with a shout that echoed over the mere, pulsing into his brother’s willing mouth. Aurelian swallowed, diligently, his throat convulsing until Cassian, spent, pulled himself free.
A string of saliva and semen connected Cassian’s tip to Aurelian’s swollen lips. Aurelian panted, looking dazed, his own need a visible ache between his legs.
“Now him,” Kragor said, his voice tighter. He had unlaced his breeches, freeing his own erection, which stood thick and impatient. “Fuck him. The way you’ve wanted to where walls had ears.”
Cassian dropped to his knees behind Aurelian, who instinctively went to hands and knees. There was no spit, no preparation but the wetness of Aurelian’s own excitement. Cassian positioned himself and pushed inside the clenching heat. Aurelian cried out, a sound part pain, part profound relief, his back arching. Cassian set a hard, deep pace immediately, each thrust a driven, possessive slap of flesh.
“Yes! Own it!” Kragor growled, his hand moving faster on himself. “That’s my cunt he’s in. You’re fucking my property.”
The words ignited Cassian. He pistoned into his brother, his fingers digging bruises into Aurelian’s hips. The world narrowed to the slap of their bodies, the choked, pleasured sounds from Aurelian, and the heavy, approving gaze of their owner. “Mine,” Cassian grunted, a pale echo of Kragor’s claim. “My brother. My king’s whore.”
“Come in him,” Kragor ordered. “Mark him inside.”
Cassian obeyed, slamming deep and freezing as a second, wrenching orgasm tore through him, filling Aurelian with his heat. He collapsed forward, breathing raggedly against Aurelian’s spine.
Kragor was there before they could separate. His hand clamped on Cassian’s shoulder, hauling him off. “My turn.” He flipped Aurelian onto his back, the prince’s legs falling open, Cassian’s seed already leaking from him. Kragor’s cock, a truly monstrous comparison, nudged at the used, dripping entrance.
“You’re stretched open and full of your brother,” Kragor observed, a cruel delight in his eyes. “Perfect.” He plunged.
Aurelian’s scream was raw, his body bowing off the ground. Kragor fucked him with a relentless, territorial intensity, his girth overwhelming the already sensitized channel. Cassian, kneeling nearby, watched his brother’s face transform with a pleasure so intense it bordered on agony. He reached out, letting Aurelian crush his hand.
“Look at him ruin you,” Cassian whispered, fervent. “Look at him make you better.”
Kragor’s pace was punishing, each drive pushing a choked sob from Aurelian’s throat. He was not just taking Aurelian; he was erasing Cassian’s claim, overwriting it with something deeper, more absolute. With a final, ground-shaking roar, Kragor emptied himself, his release flooding Aurelian’s depths, mixing with what was already there.
He pulled out and stood. “Clean him.”
Cassian didn’t hesitate. He moved between Aurelian’s splayed legs and licked, lapping up the bitter, mingled spend from his brother’s ravaged cunt, from his thighs, worshipping the proof of their shared submission.
Kragor watched, his breathing slowing. He turned his gaze north again, beyond the mere. A faint, cruel smile touched his lips. “Good,” he said, the word final. “The education proceeds. I can smell the next one from here. A colder fire. It’s time to go.”