Chapter 3: The Morning After
The first thing Riven felt was the ache. A deep, throbbing fullness that radiated from his core. Then warmth—the solid heat of Kael’s body spooned against his back, an arm heavy across his ribs. And the faint, insistent pressure of Kael’s softening cock still nestled inside him. Dawn light, pale and cold, cut through the high windows, painting stripes across the wreckage of the great hall. Discarded clothes. An overturned whiskey bottle. The bearskin rug rumpled and stained.
He shifted minutely. The movement sent a spark through his raw nerves, a bright wire of sensation that instantly hardened his own cock. A low groan vibrated against his spine.
Kael was awake. He nuzzled the fresh claiming mark on Riven’s shoulder, his voice a sleep-roughened rumble. “Feeling it?”
“Yeah.” The word was a hoarse scrap. Riven pushed back, a slow, deliberate grind, feeling Kael begin to swell and thicken within him again. “It doesn’t stop.”
“No.” Kael’s hand slid down Riven’s stomach, calloused fingers wrapping around his erection. “It won’t. Not for a while.”
He pulled out, the drag making Riven gasp, and then manhandled him with a ease that still sent a thrill through Riven’s gut. Hands on his hips, flipping him onto his stomach, then up onto his knees. Riven obeyed, presenting himself, his face pressed into the fur. He was exposed, completely open. He heard Kael spit, then the slick, wet sound of a hand pumping.
“Look at you,” Kael muttered, his thumb rubbing over Riven’s hole, which felt swollen, puffy, tender to the touch. “So fucked open. My fucking mess is still dripping out of you.”
The crude words lit a fire in Riven’s blood. He pushed his ass back, a wordless plea.
Kael guided himself, the broad head nudging against the loosened, sensitive ring of muscle. He pushed in, not with the brutal force of the night before, but with a relentless, deep pressure that stole Riven’s breath. It was a stretch that bordered on pain, his body oversensitized and protesting, yet the pleasure was sharper, brighter because of it.
“Fuck… Kael…” Riven babbled, his fingers clutching the fur.
Kael seated himself fully, a long, slow slide until his hips were flush against Riven’s ass. He held there, both of them trembling. “Watch,” Kael growled, his hand snaking around to tilt Riven’s chin toward the long shadow they cast on the floor in the morning light. “Watch me take you.”
Riven’s eyes fixed on the silhouette. On the powerful shape of Kael driving forward, on the way his own body yielded. He could see every detail—the way Kael’s cock, dark and thick, disappeared into the shadow of his ass, the rhythmic clench of his own muscles. It was obscene. Visceral. His cock jerked, leaking onto the fur beneath him.
Kael set a pace that was punishing in its depth. Each stroke was a full, grinding invasion, his balls slapping against Riven’s taint. The air filled with the sounds of it: flesh on flesh, the wet squelch of his own spend from last night used as lube, Kael’s ragged breaths.
“You feel that?” Kael panted, one hand braced on Riven’s shoulder, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise. “You feel how deep I am? Your guts are made for me. Wrapped around my fucking cock.”
“Yes!” Riven cried out, the admission torn from him. His knees were shaking, his vision blurring. The stimulation was everywhere, unbearable. The raw friction inside him, the sight of their shadows fucking, the filthy, beautiful words in his ear. His orgasm built without a single touch to his own dick, a coil of pure tension in his lower belly.
“I’m gonna… I’m gonna come…”
“Do it,” Kael snarled, his rhythm becoming erratic, harder. “Come on my cock like a good mate. Show me.”
Riven shattered. A silent, breathless scream locked in his throat as his body seized. His cock pulsed, spilling hot stripes of cum onto the already-stained fur beneath him, his hole clamping down in rhythmic spasms around Kael’s driving length.
The intense clench pulled Kael over the edge. He buried himself to the hilt, a final, brutal thrust, and roared. Riven felt the hot, liquid rush flood his insides, another claim, another mark on the inside where no one could see. Kael collapsed over his back, still jerking, pumping the last of his release into Riven’s well-used channel.
They stayed like that for long minutes, a sweaty, spent heap. Kael finally slid out, and Riven felt the immediate, empty drip of their combined release. He didn’t move. Couldn’t.
Kael rolled onto his back beside him, chest heaving. After a moment, he reached out, his fingers tracing the scar above Riven’s brow. “This,” he said quietly. “Tell me who did this.”
The tenderness of the touch, so stark against the raw sex of moments before, made Riven’s throat tighten. “The alpha’s son. Of my old pride. His name was Torin.”
“He’s dead if I ever see him.” The words were simple, absolute.
Riven turned his head to look at Kael. The amber in his eyes was calm, sure. This wasn’t the possessive fever of the heat. This was a promise. It scared him more than the fucking ever had. “You can’t just… declare war over an old scar.”
“I’m not declaring war. I’m stating a fact.” Kael sat up, running a hand through his wild hair. “We need to move. We’ve been gone three days. The pride will be looking. My father will have questions.”
Reality, cold and unwelcome, seeped into the lodge. The den they’d made was about to be breached. Riven pushed himself up, wincing at the myriad aches. “And what do we tell them?”
“The truth.” Kael stood, his naked body formidable in the morning light. He found his jeans, pulled them on. “That the Ashford heir has found his fated mate. In a Solace.” He tossed Riven’s clothes to him. “It’ll cause a shitstorm. But it’s the only thing that matters.”
Riven dressed slowly, the fabric abrasive on his sensitive skin. The fear was back, a cold knot in his stomach. “They’ll think you’re weak. Or that it’s a political trick, like I said.”
Kael stopped in front of him, cupping his face. His palms were rough. “Let them think what they want. You feel this bond. It’s not in our heads. It’s in our bones. That’s our argument.” He leaned in, kissed him, a firm, grounding press of lips. “Now get ready. My lion is already pacing. Yours is too.”
He was right. Riven could feel the restless rumble under his own skin, not from lust now, but from trepidation. The outside world was a threat. Their private heat was over.
As they moved through the lodge, righting chairs, Kael paused by the door. He looked back at the scene—the fur, the table, the wall where he’d first taken Riven. A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Remember this place. This is where we started. No matter what happens out there, this is real.”
He unbolted the heavy door. Cold, pine-scented air rushed in, sweeping away the thick, carnal fog of the lodge. Riven stepped out beside him, shivering. The truck sat where they’d left it, frost on the windshield.
The path back to the Ashford territory stretched ahead, shrouded in mist. Kael’s hand found his, their fingers locking together.
“Stay beside me,” Kael said, his voice low. “No matter what they say. No matter what they do. You’re mine.”
Riven took a last, deep breath of the free, wild air. Then he nodded, squeezing Kael’s hand. “I’m with you.”
The door to the lodge swung shut behind them with a final, resonant thud, sealing away the sanctuary. The challenge of home, of pride, of a past that wanted to claim them both, lay directly ahead.