Page 17 of Bred By Fafnir

No, I wasn’t.

“The spear.” I offer.

She simply rolls her eyes. I like it when she does that. She does it a lot, especially at Valoryx and not me, which I like less.

“I vote spear. It reminds me of Tarzan. That would be hot.”

Rage, white hot and blinding, overtakes me. My hand releases her wrist, only to jerk her up to my height, my hands under her armpits like an unruly babe. Her eyes are wide as she dangles in my hold.

“Who is thisTare-zun?”

Her dammed full lips quirk. “Tar-zan. He’s just a—" her smile grows, her teeth digging into her lip for a moment. “He’s a famed human hunter, a wild man who lives off the land and has mastered the jungle of Old Earth. Always armed with a spear, he is said to be the most handsome of all the Disney princes.”

A prince?!

A savage growl leaves my throat, and the dammed Valkyra in my grip only smiles further. My eyes dart to the spear, hauling her against me, settling her in close to my chest with one arm as I jerk the spear from the wall. “Has he come to Terra2? Have you bedded this…prince?”

I nearly scoff. A prince would know nothing of the brutality of a warrior. I wish I knew his face so I could picture it as I detached his princely jaw from the rest. I stalk toward my pile of weapons, slamming the spear down.

When her laughter erupts, I nearly skid to a halt, my eyes slamming to the shaking, hysterical female in my arms. “Oh yes, many times. He’s a fine fuc—" her laughter cuts off as her back meets the wall a little toohard, perhaps, but red is swirling my vision, a rage like nothing I’ve felt before blazing the inside of my chest. My knee slams up to support her weight, jamming between her thighs, her core resting there. Only the sound of our shared breathing, rough and perhaps a little frantic, fills the space as I gather her hands above her head, keeping them there, keeping her still.

Her mouth is open, her eyes tracking me as a deep resonant growl comes from my chest. I dip my head, slamming my horns into the wall on either side of her. She lets out a tiny scream, but it cuts off into a breathy, “Fuck.”

She squirms against my knee, and I can feel the wetness of her core there, making my twin cocks jerk behind my cloth. My other hand slams up to brace on the wall, trying to cool my rising temper.

“Faf… release my hands,” she whispers.

That damn nickname…

I squeeze them harder, both hating and reveling in her wince.

And hating that.

The madness clouding my mind.

“Now, Fafnir,” she says a little louder.

It takes a second, then a few more, red swirling behind my eyes in a new horrible way as I breathe. My chest tampering down on my heart.

She’s mine.

Mine.

I peel back my fingers, one at a time, until her hands drop. Her expected rage, escape attempts, and demands to be released never materialize; instead, her small hands drop to my horns. I can’t see anything save for the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Her pert, hardened nipples behind the thin human dress she calls a nightgown. My tongue wets my bottom lip with the desire to taste them. Her hands run the length of my horns, soft fingers slipping over every ridge and groovebefore she finds her way to my hair, sinking her fingers into the strands. Some of the red fades from my vision of her beautiful, flushed form.

“Tarzan isn’t without his faults, though. He’s no warrior, nowhere near a strong enough male for me.”

I shudder as her hands slip onto my shoulders, tiny fingers kneading at the tense muscles there until she squirms, her cunt rubbing against my thigh making a soft moan leave her throat. My palm bracing the wall leaves, flattening on her waist to hold her still as I jerk my horns free. Splinters of wood falling over the skirt of her dress gathered around her hips.

My eyes meet hers, giving her a second to stop me as I pull her hips, forcing her to move against my thigh. She braces her hands on my chest, gripping the leather straps there, her teeth goring her bottom lip until I tug it free, smoothing over the chewed flesh with my thumb. I urge her to move again, and she does, the softest, most delectable sound leaving her lips, and she needs no further encouragement. My cocks throb and ache, watching as she grips my chest, pulling me closer to her while finding her pleasure on my thigh. Her bright eyes half lidded with need as she whimpers, rubbing herself harder.

“Mine.” The word slips from my throat again, unbidden. But if she notices, she doesn't seem to mind. Her grinding quickens in tune with her breath.

“Oh, I’m going to—"

“Yes, come for me, little Valkyra,only for me.”

A sharp cry leaves her throat as she slams her head backward, making it connect roughly with the wall. Her entire body is a goddess sent vision as she heaves, grips, and grinds down on me. Her blunt nails digging into my scarred flesh. All of it is nothing compared to the small, shy smile she gifts me as her waves of pleasure pass, and I gather her into my arms. Brushing my nose against her flushed cheek,wondering how I’m going to last until after the festival or how I plan to say goodbye at the end of all this. Already, the thought of her absence haunts me, and after a year of her… I fear if the war madness has not taken me by then… that surely will.

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