"The return of the old ways is not wise. No matter how enamored Errol is with the idea of a water ceremony," Ladon mutters, frowning slightly.

"It is true. I do not understand how he does not worry about the troubles this could bring for us," Shidan agrees, keeping his voice just as low.

"Yes. I do not understand this desire to force us back to the old ways. Can we not simply be content with this new way of life we have been given? Is it not enough?" Astarot adds, shaking his head. "It feels very shortsighted."

My jaw clenches as I hear the group of Zmaj from the city discussing the upcoming mating ceremony as though it is a harbinger of doom. It's perfectly ridiculous. They act as though gods will descend from the sky and smite Tajss for the terrible evil of having a mating ceremony. The thought is laughable.

Though I have been consciously holding my tongue on the matter, not wanting to stir up even more trouble among this group that cannot simply accept what is happening. If anything, the traditions will return a sense of wholeness to us. I, for one, am quite glad Errol and Kate will be mating ceremonially. In my estimation, the problem is not truly with the mating ceremony, or even a real fear of returning to the old ways.

The issue really lies within many of my Zmaj brothers. I know some of them are haunted with memories of the past, fragments and nightmares that they try their best to bury where they may not affect them. It sounds like an exhausting endeavor.

I realize how fortunate I am not to be haunted by my past, not to have the same desire to pretend reality away as they seem to. I want to stay firmly here, past included.

I try not to shake my head as I listen to them continue on the same topic, discussing the upcoming water ceremony as though it denotes the end of civilization itself. I do not want to offend them or cause more tension before the ceremony, but eventually, I cannot simply allow this type of talk without at least attempting to intervene. It does not make any sense.

"You are all behaving as though the water ceremony will throw our new society into chaos," I cut in, not bothering to lower my voice as they did. I am not worried about others hearing my opinion.

My interruption is a surprise.

Perhaps they did not realize I was listening to their low conversation so intently.

It has them all glancing at each other and I can see they are trying to decide how to respond without being rude.

They are in our home now after all.

"It is everything that will come along with the ceremony," Astarot explains carefully. "Things we would not like to dredge up, now that we have moved on from them."

"The past is not all good," Ladon adds.

I sigh Now that I have inserted myself, I need to say my piece.

"Why must you look for trouble where there is none? We are speaking simply of the water ceremony, a celebration that has already brought all of us closer together. When else would all of you and your mates and children have come to our cave system?" That point has them nodding reluctantly. "And there is no rule that says we must reintroduce everything from before if we take even a sliver back. We can do as we please."

"It is not so simple," Ladon counters. "This will stir up more than just the ceremony."

"I think you are complicating the issue unnecessarily." I look around at the assembled males. "The Zmaj bloodline will continue through Kate and Errol's union, just as it has with the other matings, ensuring our survival as a people. Why shouldn't that be recognized by our ancestors in formal ceremony? It seems only fitting to me, and I do not understand this level of opposition to it."

A beat of silence where I can see them digesting this point.

"Perhaps Arawn is correct," Shidan murmurs, glancing at the others before meeting my eyes once more. "I apologize for any negativity our comments may have brought today," he adds.

I nod my head as the others murmur a similar sentiment.

I know I have not fully convinced them of my viewpoint.

I know they are choosing not to argue more in order to be polite.

But I still appreciate that they are sensitive to the fact that the ceremony is happening, and that the Tribe has no issue with it.

Nonetheless, when Illadon runs by, his short, strong little legs propelling him forward with more speed than I would have guessed, I feel a wash of relief at the distraction.

And what an adorable distraction he is. At about three years, his bright blue, green, and yellow scales attract attention, matching his yellow-green eyes. His grin is wide and happy, drawing a smile from me and the others watching.

"Illadon!" Callista calls out in a harried voice. "What did I say about behavior during the ceremony?"

I chuckle as I notice little Illadon continue to run, looking back for his small shadow.

He is obviously attempting to show off for Ragnar and Olivia's adorable red-haired daughter, Zoe.

Her much more subtle scales glimmer as they catch the light, her short little horns and round cheeks just as cute.

I can certainly appreciate his desire to impress a female. It is embarrassing to realize he seems to be having more success than I am currently.

Judging by Zoe's gurgling laughter as she runs after him as fast as she can, her bright blue eyes sparkling, it is working quite well actually.

Ladon shakes his head as only a long-suffering parent can, but a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as well. He is obviously quite proud of his son, which is a wonderful sight to see.

"Illadon is into everything now, his sense of adventure sometimes a little too strong for his mother," he explains. "Sometimes I fear he will drive her to tie him up in an attempt to keep him away from trouble." When the child veers to the right, aiming for the flame of a candle, Ladon moves quickly, stepping forward and scooping the little troublemaker into his arms, the child shrieking with laughter.

"Oh, man. I can't wait for when this baby is here, but I'm also a little scared at the same time," Lana remarks as she walks over, her eyes on Illadon, hand on her small round belly. "That looks like a lot of work."

The curvy, dark-haired female is even curvier now, her body just beginning to visibly change with her own child.

"Do not worry," Astarot reassures her, wrapping an arm around her and leaning down to kiss her temple, the love in his eyes clear, the hand he places over her stomach, over their child, protective. "I will run after our little one, so you will not have to."

She chuckles, shaking her head as she turns to kiss his cheek.

"I'll hold you to that," she warns, smiling.

"That's what I tell Drosdan when he makes me promises." Sarah is approaching, Drosdan by her side. She is further along in her pregnancy, her middle rounder and larger. Her mate watches her attentively.

"I mean every one of those promises," Drosdan reassures her. "And any more you would like me to make as well."

Sarah shakes her head, patting his cheek.

"It's difficult to be mad at him for being the reason I'm in this condition when he's being so sweet," she chuckles.

"I know exactly what you mean," Lana agrees, looking up at her own mate with affection.

When Penelope and Bashir also wander over, hand in hand, I move back somewhat. Everyone has their mate, and some have a child or a child on the way. It makes me ache for the same. It is too much, on the heels of the conversation of the ceremony.

"Excuse me," I murmur.

Determined to keep my own spirits high, where they usually are, I step away from the heartwarming tableau and move to the kitchen, somewhere I do not have to be so careful.

Delilah looks up as I near, a smile wreathing her pretty face, bright and white against her warm brown skin.

"Arawn—tell me you're here to help."

The kitchen is busy indeed, multiple people chopping, washing dishes, hauling in ingredients, discarding refuse. The preparations for the meal we will have at the ceremony are fully underway. I smile back.

"I am here to help."

"Perfect! I need some help breaking down this meat over here."

I follow her over to the large slab waiting to be cut up.

"What size do you require?" I ask, picking up the meat cleaver.

"Small chunks. About this big, please," she adds, holding up her fingers to show me the size.

"Easy enough."

She slaps me on the back. "I knew I could count on you," she announces, already spinning to go back to the actual cooking.

I get to work, much happier performing this task than listening to others complain about something they obviously cannot change.

As I do, I watch Delilah move confidently through the kitchen, directing others. There was a time when I thought perhaps Delilah and I might mate. She is quite attractive, intelligent, and her cooking skills are universally admired—with good reason.

But she never gave me any indication she wanted me in that way, and our relationship has since developed into a comfortable rapport that is more like a brother and sister than anything romantic. We bicker, play with each other, but nothing more than that. She is a good friend, one I know I can count on, but I also know now we will never be more than that. I have accepted it without much, if any, difficulty.

Now, Fallon, on the other hand...

Her gorgeous face flashes in my mind. Fine boned, with a delicate jaw, slightly upturned bright blue eyes, and a generous, wide mouth, she draws me like no other. I want to touch that soft skin, run my fingers through her honey-blond hair, skim them over those delicious curves. I suppress a growl at the thought, feeling my body stir even now. It is the same whenever my mind turns to her.

Unfortunately, she seems completely resistant to the obvious magnetism between us. Determinedly so. I know she watches me, just as I watch her. But she does not act on the attraction. It is frustrating, but I refuse to concede. Not with Fallon.

I cannot simply fall into a sibling relationship with her as I have with Delilah. It would be impossible. So I continue to try.

As I've watched her from afar, I've learned more about her, and her own frustrations. Her caged heart rails against the reality that she is too soft to hunt and fend for herself here on Tajss. My own heart, sensing that, has begun to beat in unison with hers.

I feel a pull that is deeper than mere surface attraction—though she is nothing less than a true piece of art, one that lives and breathes. My initial attraction to Delilah pales in comparison to what I feel for Fallon. Truthfully, they are not even comparable. Fallon is a true treasure. My treasure.

The yearning for her is stronger than anything I have ever experienced before, the urge to have her, to protect her, to keep her safe is overwhelming. Undeniable.

I finish my tasks in the kitchen with a focused intensity, hoping to steal a few moments with the object of my desire before everyone else arrives. To that end, I arrive early for the pre-ceremony in one of the lower caverns. But Fallon is nowhere to be found.

Where could she be? I thought I would find all of Kate's inner circle aiding in preparations. I do see Nora. Perhaps she will know. The quiet woman looks up as I approach, her gaze questioning.

"Do you know where I could find Fallon?" I ask politely, not wanting to appear too intense. Nora is one of the more fragile of the human females, soft-spoken and shy.

"Oh, she must already be with Kate. I'm heading over there right now to help put the finishing touches on the ceremonial cloak she will wear."

Ah, yes. I have heard of the cloak, from Errol and from others. He fashioned jewels from the collected meteorite glass and the women of the village have been working diligently to adorn the cloak with them.

We males are also under strict orders not to try to see Kate until just before the recital of the vows Errol and she will exchange. It is an odd aspect of their human ceremonial traditions, but I do not mind their outright refusal of any of us seeing her before the ceremony. They have adjusted to a great deal here on Tajss. This is a simple enough request. But I do feel a sharp disappointment at not being able to see Fallon as I had hoped.

"Thank you, Nora," I murmur, taking a step back.

She nods, hurrying away to continue with her duties.

With nothing else to occupy my time now, I join those still working, lending a hand where I can.

If nothing else, the naysayers cannot deny that the ceremony has brought us all closer together, the effort made towards a common goal helping cement our bonds even further.

Eventually, all the work is done, and we all sit down to anticipate the ceremony.

The ceremonial decor looks beautiful, all of our efforts resulting in a wonderful setting for the vows to be exchanged. Reeds and large, pale blossoms adorn the area and the raised platform. I personally worked on that platform, paneling the sturdy piece carefully so it will last.

This is our first mating ceremony, but I doubt it will be the last now that Errol has demanded one. It only makes sense to build features that will last, that can be used multiple times both for mating ceremonies and any others we might like to have in the future.

I worked with Bashir and several others to incorporate meteorite glass into the design of the platform as well, and now that everything is displayed together, I can truly appreciate the brilliant shine of the adornment.

It calls the eye, sparkling and glimmering in the light of the many candles placed around it, casting a soft light over all those gathered, along with the sunlight streaming down.

It is a poor rival indeed for Fallon's beauty when she finally joins the other females. My heart races at the sight, drinking her in, lingering on her hair, almost as yellow as the sands near the most treacherous areas on Tajss, where no one lives anymore after the mass migration of the dangerous beasts. A unique color—and fitting for her. It is pulled back at the sides of her head, swept back to leave her beautiful face bare, the strands tumbling down her back in a smooth waterfall my hands itch to touch.

Her eyes scan the area before they lock with my own, a mysterious cast to the blue in this lighting. In the spirit of the moment, she awards me a smile that warms me. But she does not allow her attention to linger, her gaze continuing on around. My heart sinks a bit as she looks away. I do not know why she refuses to acknowledge this between us. However, I do not have time to dwell on the topic.

The murmur of conversation continues around me, the anticipation for the ceremony building. Luckily, we do not have to wait long. My attention is thankfully taken by the coming declaration of abiding love about to unfold in front of the gathered group.

I join the other males of the Tribe, all of us dressed in traditional robes with our lochabers in hand. We arrange ourselves in two lines facing each other, creating a corridor for those participating in the ceremony to walk through.

Errol and his father Gomul are the first to pass, Errol's arm around Gomul's shoulders, the two radiating happiness as they pass between us.

Errol's traditional robe is adorned with pieces of meteorite glass, the shimmering pieces drawing the eye to him, though the joy beaming from his face would have done the same.

We hum in unison to mark their entry, the low vibrato of our voices blending together, symbolizing we are one.

Gomul takes the place of respect next to Commander Visidion who will be performing the ceremony, stepping onto the platform.

Errol takes his place, leaving room for his mate next to him. As soon as he is in place, all of us turn to look for Kate.

Her appearance does not disappoint. She steps out of the cave where she has been preparing, her dress sparkling brightly in the sun with small bits of the same glass her mate wears.

Kate is truly resplendent in the silvery gown and long cloak trailing behind her, the meteorite glass catching the light and reflecting softly. Her fiery hair is caught in an intricate style at the top of her head, subtle color applied to her pale, pretty face.

She is a dazzling sight, the shimmer of her dress matching the radiance of her face, her joy at the coming ceremony as profound as her mate's.

Errol cannot take his eyes off of her.

She stands at the top of the ramp for a moment as the other females pick up the train of her dress and help her walk down towards us. One of them is Fallon. She may not shimmer as much as Kate, but she draws my eye nonetheless.

At the signal, we raise our lochabers, extending our arms up so the blades cross at the top of the space between the lines we have formed, creating a tunnel for Kate to walk through. As she does so, her eyes are locked on Errol and only Errol. My heart aches at the sight, imaging Fallon looking at me in that same manner.

Even as I think it, Fallon's eyes meet mine as she walks past with Kate's train in hand. The eye contact is searing.

But she looks away after only a beat, her cheeks flushing slightly.

Patience.

The females let go of Kate's dress, spreading the train out in a pretty fan as Errol takes her hands and guides her so they are facing each other in front of Visidion.

Everyone's eyes are on Errol and Kate as the Commander lays his hands on theirs.

Except mine.

They continue to stray to Fallon. And find her own on mine more than once. I shift restlessly.

"Errol. Your heart has yearned and has been answered. Is this the female you would share water with?"

It is.

My inner thought is echoed by Errol's voice as I imagine Fallon and myself in front of Visidion, exchanging the traditional vows, committing to each other. That is all I can think of as the ceremony continues.

Drosdan and Padraig walk forward, carrying a large barrel of water between them that they set down in front of the couple.

The ceremony continues, Visidion ceding his place to Gomul, who steps in easily, well versed in this ceremony he performed many times in the past.

"Water brings life. In sharing water, you commit one to another, and both to all of us. Our future rests on you."

He pours water over both Errol's and Kate's heads.

Before they then do the same to each other.

"I give you my water," Errol says clearly as he pours it over Kate's head.

"I take your water," she answers.

Fallon looks over at me at those words.

But then looks away quickly again when our eyes meet.

This is a kind of torture that I could not have imagined. I am so distracted that I do not even realize when the ceremony ends. Only the cheers of those around me draw my attention back. I add my own raucous roar of approval to the sound as Errol swings his mate into his arms and kisses her deeply, clearly uncaring of who sees.

This is a human tradition we all approve of without question. My eyes go to Fallon, where they always desire to be when in her vicinity. Delilah told me of their tradition of kissing the female after the ceremony. And all I could think of then and now are Fallon’s soft lips. Yes, this is a tradition that I would be more than happy to include in any ceremony I have with my mate.

But first, the real celebration is set to begin now that the ceremony is over. When Errol sets Kate back on her feet, her eyes are sparkling, her cheeks flushed.

As if this is the silent signal, we all rush towards the newly mated couple, offering our congratulations. The mood is joyous and light, even the dissenters' grumblings quiet now as we stream into the communal area.

It too has been transformed to match the occasion. Candles have been scattered everywhere, placed strategically to avoid burning the lovely creamy blooms that pour forth from the vines Delilah and Penelope have successfully uprooted and transplanted into the soil here.

Meteorite glass twines around some of them, artfully placed with a subtle wire that also supports the candles, careful metalwork done by Errol and me specifically for the decorations. We wanted to ensure everyone's safety while also delivering the vision Errol and Kate had for the day. The final look glimmers and shimmers, creating a dreamy atmosphere that I am certain we will always remember.

It is nice to do something that is not only purely for survival. It adds a softness to life that I didn't realize I missed. The food is set out on one of the longer tables, with seats and tables arranged throughout, small areas to mingle and talk to each other.

I go to the table, talking to those around me as I fill my plate. But my attention is not on my words. My eyes find Fallon's bright head just as she tilts it back to laugh at something Kate said, her happiness beaming out of her.

I ache to be closer. But I take my plate and move to a nearby table, not wanting to intrude upon her time with her friends on this special day.

Delilah arranges people to move around the crowd, passing out cups full of the britang, the fermented drink we create from the fruit in season. This last batch was particularly good, and everyone takes the offering with a smile.

"A toast!" Fallon announces once everyone has a cup in their hand. "To the happy couple—I've never seen anyone so disgustingly happy." Chuckles ripple through the room, and she waits for them to die down. "It's a joy to be around you," she adds more seriously, the sincerity in her voice clear even from some distance. "Congratulations."

The females take a sip as she does, prompting the rest of us to do the same. The sweet taste of the britang hits my tongue, the fiery bite of it sliding down my throat and warming me.

A few others give similar congratulatory words to the mated couple, but I do not pay attention to the words. My attention is all for Fallon. But I take a deep drink every time it is appropriate. And I watch as Fallon does the same.

The mood is merry, the food plentiful, the drink flowing. Everyone wants to celebrate, make the most of this occasion. As soon as my cup is empty, someone ensures it is full.

I am weak with my longing for Fallon, so I drink. And drink. Attempt to dull that harsh edge of frustration as I watch her.

I watch as she drinks as well, laughing and talking with her friends, eating and dancing. For some, that might signal an opportunity to try once more. But not for me.

As I watch her laughing, her face flushed with drink, I feel the pang of opportunity lost. I would not dream of taking advantage or her or any other female in a drunken state.

Downing the last of my drink, I stand, taking a moment to allow the room to settle around me.

Then I make my own way over to the dancing, Zmaj and humans alike whirling and hopping to the music from the drums and flutes played by a small group of human women and some of my Zmaj brethren. I fashioned a few of the instruments myself.

The flutes are similar to the old calling whistles of Tajss, so not completely alien. The drums are made from the skins of some of the beasts we have hunted, the sound coming from them calling to me in a primitive way.

I do not fully understand this dancing that the humans have brought to Tajss, but it seems easy enough. I know how to move my body and doing so to music is not any more difficult than following a beast and striking at the right time.

I allow the rhythm to flow through me, my attention on Fallon even as I dance with Penelope and then Delilah, copying their movements, learning how to compliment them.

"You're good!" Delilah offers, grinning as she moves with me.

I smile back, enjoying myself only partly because of the drink. When I find myself without a partner, I continue to dance by myself, the exertion of my body a different kind of release. It feels good to let go, even just this much. Perhaps I am gaining a better understanding of why the humans do this at celebrations.

Fallon

I feel the buzz of the alcohol as I dance, watching Arawn move. The ceremony has me feeling...something. Something I didn't expect. Something uncomfortable that I push away as I watch Arawn. But I don't move my gaze away from him. He moves smoothly, picking up how to dance quickly. It isn't surprising, considering how physical he is, how in tune with his own body.

I just didn't expect it would turn me on like it's doing.

Though, to be honest, he could be doing the Macarena and I'd probably still feel hot under the collar.

It's just him.

I down the rest of my drink. Liquid courage.

Arawn

A female has just twirled into me! My arms, thinking for themselves, immediately reach out to steady her. I would never have been caught so unaware had I not had so much to drink. Nor would I have ever lost track of Fallon so completely that seeing her in my arms would be a shock. But I am not so far gone that I waste the opportunity, deep in drink or not.

Fallon looks up at me, and her eyes open wide.

"Sorry," she murmurs, her hands coming up to settle on my chest. "I didn't see you there."

Despite her words, she continues to move with me, with the music, giving no indication that she wants to move away. I do not want to deny her tumbling directly into my arms.

"I do not mind," I return, moving with her before she can decide to pull away.

She moves with me, her eyes still locked with mine as her hands slide up to clasp my shoulders.

The beat of the drums seeps into my blood as Fallon moves sinuously against me, her eyes dreamy as she dances to the music.

Dancing is quickly becoming my favorite pastime. Perhaps I can convince the others to have a dance after every meal.

Her breasts brush against my chest. Her hands caress my chest, my arms. Her lips part slightly with her breath, her eyes half-lidded as she presses her hips closer. Brushing against the part of me that is now fully awake. And throbbing for more.

I grit my teeth as she turns around, pushing her backside against me, the soft curves cradling me perfectly as she raises her arms, one of her hands sliding into my hair, the other cupping the side of my neck.

A flash of heat pierces me. My jaw clenches hard and my hands squeeze down on her hips.

Too much. This is too much for me to handle.

"Excuse me," I say, gently extracting myself from her lingering hands. "I must..."

I do not know what reason to give, so I let my sentence trail off as I step back from her alluring body.

It is painful. I do not want to do it, but I also know I need to. I do not have full control over myself. I do not trust myself.

I make my way through the revelers, keeping my focus on the path before me, and not on the beautiful female I just left behind. Not on the throbbing of my cock, demanding more.

I stifle a snarl as I exit the cavern and walk swiftly for my own cave, needing to be alone. I need to relieve myself, relieve some of this pressure that feels as though it might kill me.

I do not realize I am being followed until I step into my cave and someone else steps in directly after me.

"I am never going to drink so much britang again," I mutter under my breath as I turn to see who it is.

I blink at Fallon, my irritated words leaving me immediately.

Why is she..."

"Fallon?" I ask, confused. "What—?"

Before I can finish my question, she is closing the distance between us, her hands sliding up my chest again.

But there are no drums here. No music. No other people to dilute the gesture. To make it mean anything else.

"Fallon..."

"Arawn," she murmurs, pushing me back.

I move, my hands going down to rest on her hips as she slowly crowds me back, until the backs of my legs hit the bed. She tumbles me back onto it, coming down on top of me.

Is this a dream?

"Fallon, I do not think—"

This time my words are cut off not by her words, but by the touch of her soft lips to mine. Caressing. Coaxing. Asking to be let in.

I groan, my hands sliding up her delicate back as I return her kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, the tart taste of her mouth exactly what I want.

I am only a male. There is only so much I can deny her.

She hums in the back of her throat as she deepens the kiss even more, shimmying so her legs are on either side of my hips as she attacks my mouth.

I am a more than willing recipient of what she has to give. I touch her everywhere, everywhere that I have been dreaming of. I run my hands through that silky hair, slide my hands down to cup the curves of her backside, knead the curve of her waist.

I want all of her.

Her curious fingers slide down the skin of my chest, across my arms, taking the robe with them. Down my taut stomach, to the fastening of my waistband. The ceremonial robe is the only piece of clothing I am wearing. With a firm tug, she undoes it, sliding it down and off my body.

Sitting up astride me, her eyes scan my length hungrily. They stop on my cock, lying thick and hard and ready across my stomach.

Breathing hard, she swallows as she reaches out to take hold of me.

I grit my teeth as her soft, small hand wraps around my thickness, the pleasure excruciating. I allow her one stroke, her curious thumb rubbing along the ridges that line the length.

Two.

That is all I can take without embarrassing myself. I flip us easily, her surprised yelp making me smile as she lands softly on her back underneath me.

I meet her eyes as I reach for her clothing, watching for any sign that she does not want to continue. But she only bites her lip and helps me divest her of the pretty dress she made for the occasion, her eyes heated as she watches me watch her.

I swallow as I take in her beauty, completely bared to me for the first time. Her body is so soft, so delicate. The curves of her breasts, the indent of her long waist, the softness of her hip. And the glowing, silky skin.

"I must taste," I growl, bending down to the pale pink tip of one breast.

She sighs as I take the firm tip into my mouth, her hands sliding into my hair.

I lick at her, suck at her as my other hand kneads the softness of her other breast, wanting to touch and taste her everywhere at once.

I let go of the firm little nub, lick my way over to the other and give it a hard suck that has Fallon writhing under me.

After rubbing my face against the soft undersides, I kiss my way down her smooth belly.

Down to the softest, pinkest part of her.

I push her thighs apart, ever so gently, and then I bury my face against her, licking along the wet valley. She cries out, her hands gripping my scalp as I flick my tongue against her. Growling, I bend her legs at the knee and spear her with my tongue, the taste of her more addictive than any drink.

Her scream is hoarse this time as she bucks against me, as I drink down her pleasure and want only more.

Rising up, I take the base of my cock in my hand and rub the leaking head up and down her cleft, watching her face as I do. Her eyes open, her hair sticking to the damp skin of her face now, her chest flushed.

I stop my up-and-down motions and pause at her entrance.

"Beautiful Fallon. I want to be inside you," I whisper, my own voice hoarse and low. My need clear. Not that I want to hide it from her.

"Yes," she whispers, spreading her legs farther apart.

I shudder at the acceptance.

Slow.

She is small.

With that thought in mind, I carefully push into her, her body slowly allowing mine in.

She makes small sounds in the back of her throat as I hold her firmly in place for my thrusts, each one bringing me closer and closer to being fully seated. When my hips finally meet hers, sweat drips down my face with the effort the slow pace takes. But her pleasure is more important than my own. I want her to enjoy this first time between us.

Reaching between us, I use my thumb to rub at the firm little nub that gives her so much pleasure. She immediately softens underneath me, her hips thrusting up against me. When I look up at her face once more, her eyes are closed, a slight frown between her brows.

Experimentally, I pull out and thrust back in, the ridged spine along my cock rubbing against that sensitive nub.

She cries out, her eyes opening slightly.

"More, Arawn," she demands.

I shudder at the words. I can give her more. Taking a deep breath, I build up a slow rhythm, still conscious of the fact that she is so much smaller than me. So much more breakable.

But when she starts to meet me thrust for thrust, her hips pushing up against mine, I let go some of my control. Leaning over her, I brace my forearms on either side of her head. After bending down to kiss her, I allow my next thrust to be harder, I grind against her a little more.

Her hands come up to grip me, her nails digging into my back as she sings out her pleasure.

So I do it again.

And again.

Until she breaks the kiss and her neck arches, her eyes unseeing as her climax explodes through her.

I have no defense against the clenching around my own member.

I groan as my seed leaves me, my pleasure a hot, hard, all-encompassing feeling as I continue to thrust, the movement not at all controlled now.

I take in a deep breath as I let my forehead drop down on to Fallon's, feeling my arms tremble in reaction. I feel as though I have felled a great beast, one I would gladly take on again.

Fallon's hands smooth down my back soothingly as she kisses my neck. And then, between one breath and the next, she is asleep.

I chuckle to myself, caressing her cheek tenderly as I carefully pull out of her warmth and roll to the side so as not to crush her under my much larger body.

I gather her to me, feeling how ready my second cock is, but that discomfort is of no matter to me. Not with Fallon in my arms. I smooth the hair back from her face as I watch her sleep, her face so relaxed from our lovemaking.

I sigh. Her actions, drink or no, solidify what I knew we'd both been feeling. There is no question now we have something, something undeniable.

But this is not how I imagined the first time we would come together. No commitment, both of us with cloudy heads...

I fear she will regret yielding to the call of her body and spirit come morning.

I hold her even closer, hugging the comforting warmth of her to me, but worry keeps me up well into the night.