— I'll break you a hundred different ways —
She is far more beautiful than what he could ever deserve. The flowers that laced her antlers, the seafoam green of her eyes, and the way she looked at him like nothing else mattered. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve her, or any of it. But he was too selfish to leave her alone, and too selfish to let her be happy with anyone else. All he could do was try to not break her, but he cannot help but to think that he’s already failing.
When she presses closer into him, he can feel that almost imperceptible shift in her heartbeat. He can feel that wildness trying to break past the softness that is her, and it stirs to life something he had tried to keep caged ever since he had met her. He grits his teeth against it for a long moment, listening to her quiet voice, keeping his touch light as he continues to skim across broken skin and glowing bone. He should answer her; he should have something meaningful and reassuring to say, but they both know he has never been good with words. I just want you, rings like an echo in his head, and any train of thought he may have had is reduced to dust.
He has wanted to make her his, but he has always refrained.
But he knows, with every ounce of him, that he was done holding back.
There is a new hunger behind his touch now when he presses his lips to the top of her neck, when his lips drag past the tangled strands of her mane, following the curve of it until his caresses land on her shoulder. He moves then, their chests no longer touching but still pressed firmly to her side as his exploration continues further back. The slope of her withers, across the ridges of armor over her ribs, and the sensitive, wounded skin in between. He is still careful when he touches the broken, bleeding places; even as his lust fills him up and fogs his brain, there is a part of him that remembers to not hurt her, and he clings to that.
He takes his time touching her, letting his lips linger in certain places, letting his breath fan across the expanse of her skin, and the feathers of his wings brush along her sides. Until he is at her flank, and his touch is following the curve of her hip, traveling down, down, down, until his lips find the delicate skin of her inner thigh. For a moment he closes his eyes, struggling inwardly to keep himself quiet. He has never paid much attention to the other mares that he took beneath him. He has never spent the time touching and exploring their bodies, he never paid attention to how they reacted to his touch, or if they even wanted him. But with her, he is hyperaware of everything; every breath, every sound she makes, the way her skin might flinch, or whether she moves away or towards him.
When he finally cannot hold himself back any longer, he rises, gripping her carefully with his front legs. His teeth find the long locks of her mane, and with all the gentleness he can manage he pulls her back just as he sinks himself inside of her. The feel of her elicits a groan that rumbles from his chest, the sound lost in her neck, where his mouth rests against her skin. “Wonder,” he murmurs her name with a softness that is not usually there, reaching to press his lips again to her neck, and then along her spine. He is mindful of the way that he moves, slow and rocking, and of how his legs are resting against the broken skin that borders the armor around her ribs. He tries to be careful, he tries to tame himself down to keep from hurting her, but eventually, he succumbs to his own selfish needs.
His teeth again find her mane, pulling her closer and holding her tighter as his thrusts become harder, more insistent. The silver of his skin darkens to a steel gray, his breath hot against her back, trying to fight off the mounting tension that is building inside of him. He has wanted her for so long, and there is a part of him that wants to make this last, that wants to push them both to the brink of what they can handle, until they are both dizzy and spiraling. He fights himself, for as long as he can, until that tension finally finds its release. He shudders and grips her harder, burying his face into her mane with a guttural groan, and for a long moment, he stays like this. His head rests against her shoulder, his dark eyes closed as he fights to steady his breathing, before he finally, slowly, slides from her.
Wordlessly, he presses into her side, his skin still damp from exertion, his mind still clouded. He wants so badly to say something to her, to let her know everything that he feels, but the tangled web of emotions and feelings refuse to put themselves into words. And so all he can do is once more drape his neck over top of hers, and draw her close to his chest. His heart thuds against its cage, and finally, with his guard down, he murmurs quietly, “I am completely yours, Wonder.”
— and I'll make you remember my face —
