Page 19 of Sundered By Fate

Malekith smiled—a slow, wicked smile that sent a thrill of fear and desire racing through Aric's blood.

"Oh, I'm real enough," he said. "Real enough for this."

And then he kissed Aric—a hard, demanding kiss that left no room for protest or denial. Aric's knees went weak as Malekithpulled him closer, wrapping one arm around his waist to hold him up.

The dreamscape shifted around them, roiling like the sea; shadows coiling around them like smoke and flame licking at the edges of their consciousness. But all Aric could feel was Malekith's lips on his own—hot and insistent—and the way his body responded to every touch.

He kissed back with everything he had; pouring all of his fear and longing into that single moment until there was nothing left but raw need. Malekith groaned against his mouth—a low rumble that reverberated through Aric's chest—and deepened the kiss even further.

Aric and Malekith stripped each other down, leaving them bare and exposed to one another, their skin brushing as they moved against each other. Aric's hands roamed over Malekith's body, tracing the contours of his muscles, the scars that told a story of battles fought and survived. Malekith's hands mirrored his movements, and Aric shivered at the touch, a hunger burning in his core.

They undressed each other methodically, their fingers fumbling with urgency as they revealed the flesh beneath. Malekith's hands were strong and commanding, guiding Aric's trembling fingers to unfasten his breeches. As the fabric fell away, Aric gasped at the sight of Malekith's demonic arousal—twisted, ridged, and terrifyingly large. And, oh, how Aric missed it painfully.

Without hesitation, Malekith took hold of both their erections, gripping firmly as he began to stroke them together. Aric moaned, his hips bucking involuntarily as the friction sent waves of pleasure coursing through him. Their bodies entwined, their chests collided with each heavy breath, echoing like distant thunder in the dreamscape.

The kiss turned feral, teeth clashing as Malekith bit down on Aric's lower lip, drawing blood. Aric tasted iron, the metallic tang mingling with the sweetness of their shared breath. It fueled his desire, pushing him further into the whirlpool of passion that threatened to consume him whole.

Malekith continued to frot them, the rhythm steady and relentless, driving Aric towards the precipice of release. Each stroke brought him closer, the pressure building inside him like a storm ready to break. Desperation clawed at him, his nails digging into Malekith's shoulders as he sought some form of relief.

But just when he thought he would finally succumb to the ecstasy that awaited him, Malekith stopped. Withdrawing his hands, he broke the kiss, leaving Aric panting and bewildered. The sudden cessation of stimulation was agonizing, a cruel reminder of how close he had been to satisfaction.

And then the dream shifted again.

The shadows receded, revealing a vast chamber of black marble, chains dangling from the ceiling like a forest of night. Malekith was bound in the center, arms spread wide, chains biting into his flesh as he struggled against them. His eyes met Aric's, a mixture of terror and defiance etched across his features.

"Aric," he gasped. "Help me."

Aric tried to run to him, but it was like wading through thick mud. The distance between them seemed impossibly vast, no matter how hard he tried to close it.

"Malekith," Aric called out, but the words were swallowed by the void. "Who did this to you?"

Malekith's lips moved, forming words that Aric couldn't hear.

The dreamscape fractured further, reality and fantasy blurring at the edges. Aric caught glimpses of unfamiliarlandscapes—twisted forests, obsidian spires, rivers that flowed with molten silver. He heard whispers in languages he didn't understand, felt the brush of feathers and scales against his skin.

Through it all, Malekith's presence remained constant—a dark star, an anchor in the chaos. Aric reached for him, desperate to hold onto something solid as the dream threatened to pull him under.

"Aric," Malekith's voice caressed like velvet against his mind. "You must . . ."

But whatever he was trying to say was swallowed by the dreamscape's vortex, leaving only the echo of his voice. Aric strained to hear, but the words slipped through his fingers like smoke.

The dream began to fade, pulling away from him like a retreating tide. Aric reached out, trying to grasp hold of Malekith once more, but he was already vanishing into the shadows.

"Malekith," Aric whispered. "Wait."

But it was too late. The dream was gone, leaving Aric with a profound sense of unease—and a lingering warmth where Malekith had touched him.

Aric jolted awake, his body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The room was shrouded in darkness, the only sound the pounding of his own heartbeat. But he felt it there, lurking just beneath the surface—the sigil on his back, pulsing with energy, a warm, almost painful sensation that refused to be ignored.

Disoriented, Aric stumbled to the mirror, his heart pounding in his chest. He examined his reflection in the dim light, the sigil on his back shifting slightly, the patterns more intricate and somehow more alive than before.

Unable to shake the lingering effects of the dream and disturbed by the changes to the sigil, Aric paced his room, mind racing. He considered seeking out Olaya but hesitated, unsure of how to explain the intensity of his connection with Malekith.The idea of confessing everything—the passion, the betrayal, the bond that had formed between them—felt like a weight pressing down on him.

Instead, he tried to make sense of the dream on his own, jotting down notes and sketching images in an attempt to decipher any hidden meanings. But it was like trying to hold water in his hands; everything slipped through his grasp, leaving him feeling more adrift than ever.

As dawn broke, a sharp pain stabbed through Aric, tracing the edges of the sigil on his back. He stumbled, hand gripping the doorway for support as his breath came in ragged gasps.

The pain intensified, spreading outwards from the sigil like molten metal being poured into his veins. He fell to his knees, vision swimming as his body was wracked with agony. And then, through the haze of pain, he saw her—a woman with silver hair and swirling lavender-blue eyes, an eerie smile playing at her lips.

---