Author's note: This is my contribution to CS AU Week 2016. A (hopefully) short multichapter AU of forbidden love in Ancient Greece. Just as a warning, this story is VERY M. Like VERY. Ancient people are not Puritans and sex and nudity are not necessarily the big deal they are today. This is a little history, a little myth and a lot of my own imagination. There IS battlefield violence, as this story takes place during the time of the Trojan War. So mature themes for violence, gore and sex. If that squicks you out, don't read this fic. If you're familiar with my other work, then you already know. If not, welcome! I hope you all enjoy this edition of our favorite ship!
Disclaimer: Does this look like Starz to you?
Chapter 1
He felt the world change.
Drenched in sweat, covered in dust and blood, bone deep exhaustion, nothing could compare to the warmth in his breast the moment he laid eyes on her. It was over in an instant, a sword flashing before his distracted gaze, forcing him to parry and spin. That had been far too close, but he'd never seen such sparkling green eyes before. Nor hair the color of spun gold. A goddess in armor, like Athena. Who was she? Had the gods sent her to torment and distract him? He was not ready for the Underworld just yet. Killian lost her in the chaos but he could never forget her face or the graceful way she moved, slicing threw her enemies like water. All except him.
He'd been reared on stories of the fearsome Amazons; he'd never expected to meet one, let alone a whole army of them. If they were all like his golden goddess, why bother fighting them at all?
"Out of my way, Greek!"
Killian smirked and jabbed, twisting the sword in his hand. He sliced up and through, deftly removing the Trojan's wagging tongue. And his jaw. He wanted to take more pleasure in it—he was there on behalf of his king after all—but he was too tired. At times like this Menelaus's martial troubles seemed like the most idiotic reason to be fighting a war. Surely the gods could bestow on him someone more worthy rather than see all these men die needlessly? Perhaps even an Amazon.
No, any Amazonian warrior worth her salt would probably castrate their so called leaders within moments of being presented. Amazons, he'd always been told, did not negotiate. They fought. Fought like they were on the run from Hades himself, unstoppable, unkillable. That last was already proven false, as several Amazonian warriors lay dead not far from his little patch of the battle. They were mortal, just like the Greeks and the Trojans. He would do well to remember it, if he ever met the golden one again in battle.
Killian ducked and dodged, swordarm moving in a graceful arc, snapping the spear of his attacker in twain. He smacked the burly man with his shield, sword piercing the thigh. Warm blood spurted from the wound and the man went down in a heap. Killian had to step over mounds of broken flesh, men crying piteously for the gods or their mothers, but he ignored it. The sun beat down on the red plain, slowly cooking him in his heavy armor, sweat getting in his eyes. He snarled and pushed forward, looking for someone from his own phalanx.
He could not see far in his heavy helmet but quickly fell in with some nearby Mycenaeans. He thought about searching for the Amazon, but doing that would surely get him killed. This was not his day to die.
"To arms, hoplites! To arms! Rally to me!" A man on a white horse (how in the name of the gods could he ride in this chaos?) waved a pennant, trying to rally anyone who was left. They had caught a break in the battle, but Killian knew from experience it would not last. Grunting, he moved, running in the direction of the horse, his heavy armor clanging. They had been fighting since sunrise; he'd never been so tired. Young boys ran among those still living with skins of water, passing them from man to man. The blessedly cool water hit his scorched throat and he moaned. It tasted like ambrosia.
"Get these men up! We must charge to cut the Trojans off from their allies!"
A man Killian had never met scowled, blood running down the side of his face. "Is he mad? Those bloody Amazons will cut us to pieces!"
"They die just as well as any man," Killian retorted, shouldering his shield. He tried to imagine the golden haired beauty lying on the field with a spear through her chest and inwardly recoiled. No, surely the gods would spare her.
Who the fuck are you kidding? She'd kill you in a heartbeat, he berated himself. Except she hadn't. She'd had him dead to rights and missed.
"They're not human," the man insisted. "Graced by Artemis with deadly aim."
"Then how do you explain all these dead ones?" Killian snapped. "Get your head together, you bastard! Or we're all going to die!"
"Quiet! Save your strength for the charge!"
But Killian looked around, his heart sinking. There was no support, no phalanxes forming on their flanks. They were being sent on a suicide mission. Killian grabbed the whimpering man by the armor. "Whatever you do, stay by me. Do not leave my side, understand?"
The man nodded, even as his eyes darted around for some escape route. Killian snorted in disgust, but forced his eyes front. He took mental stock of himself and his equipment. Armor dinged, a small cut on his left arm, chiton soaked through. As long as he had his sword and shield, he would be alright. He did not pray. He doubted even Zeus himself could stop what was to come.
The white rider led them forward, shields locked together. Done right, the phalanx was nearly unstoppable, but half the men no longer had their spears. Killian's had been lost hours ago under the blistering sun. He would only be able to fight once they were in close quarters. The formation was broken by heaps of bodies and other debris, only consolidated haphazardly once the obstacles were clear. Even in his obstructed view, he could see the great wall of Amazons ahead, one of them on a great war horse.
Golden hair streamed out from under the helm.
It was her.
He didn't know how he knew, bur he did. The lithe warrior on the horse was his goddess. She waved her sword in a circle and pointed it at the approaching Greeks.
The phalanx seemed to visibly shudder; exhausted men seized by panic, sensing their impending death. One by one they seemed to drop away, despite the calls to reform. No one could make themselves heard, especially over the terrifying war cry of the Amazons. The warrior women surged forward, spears and swords flashing in the sun. Killian felt rooted to the spot, but there was no panic in his breast. No fear. It was as if something else held him back, something he did not understand.
In a matter of seconds, the Amazons were on them, hacking and slashing through the weak willed men around him. His body seemed to move without his input, as if guided by the hand of Ares himself. He fought like a man possessed, screaming himself hoarse, felling so many Amazons his sandals were slick with blood. It was the blow he did not see coming that made his vision go black.
"Check them!" Emma called to her warriors. "We shall bring the live ones back for the Festival!"
"Is that wise?"
Emma wiped her sword on the wool of her shortened chiton and thrust it into its scabbard. "So bloodthirsty, Elsa."
"No, it's not that." Emma's greatest friend brushed her hair away from her face. "They're...Greek. Do we want them in our bloodline?"
"Are they any worse than the others we're forced to mate with to keep our people strong? You know only the best survive."
"True. What if they smell?"
Emma laughed. "Right now, we smell. Blood and death clings to our skin, sister."
"The scent of glory, you mean. The Queen will be most pleased."
"And even more pleased if we bring back some of them for the Festival. If a Greek can survive battle with Amazons, surely he is worthy?"
"I hadn't thought about it like that." Elsa kicked at one of them. "Are you going to...participate this year?"
Emma wet her lips. "Only if commanded. You know I have no interest in laying down my sword yet, Elsa."
"You are the Princess, Emma. Sooner or later you will have to mate."
"Who says I haven't already?"
Elsa's eyes went wide. "What? It's forbidden! How could you...?"
"I'm jesting you, sister," Emma said, sighing in exasperation.
Unexpectedly, she recalled the Greek warrior she had missed during the battle. It still rankled her. Emma never missed. What made him so special? Was he touched by the gods? Was he still alive? Why did she care? She blamed Elsa, teasing her about the Festival. It was expected of her, that she would carry on the bloodline in the form of a daughter or two. Sons were either left to die or sent back to the swine that sired them. Men were only tolerated for the Festival, the biannual celebration of her people, where a select number mated with a man of their choosing until seed took hold. The men were then cast out, left to fend for themselves in the harsh Anatolian landscape.
Emma had seen nothing in the last seven years to make that an attractive option for her. Princess or no, she didn't want to be burdened with motherhood. She was a warrior. Leave that nonsense to the farmers and the scholars.
Her warriors found a over a dozen live men strewn across the battlefield; Emma ordered them into carts to be taken back to the city. She would have words with her Trojan allies then depart. This war was not their fight. Let the Trojans and Greeks kill each other; it was no matter to her. It was a five day march back to Themiscyra and the Queen was waiting.
"What have you brought me, Emma?" the Queen asked.
Emma knelt respectfully, casting her eyes away from her aunt. Regina had ruled the Amazons for over a decade, ever since Emma's mother's death. She had no daughters of her own, so Regina took Emma in, raising her to be their finest warrior, commander of the armies. It was a role Emma was eminently suited for and she thanked the gods every day that it was so. Even if the hole her mother left never quite filled. "Men for the Festival, my Queen."
"How many?"
"Fifteen. Greeks."
Regina wrinkled her nose. "Greeks? Make sure they are bathed and oiled beforehand. I don't want all of Themiscyra smelling like rabid Greek."
"As you say, my Queen." Emma stood to go but Regina called her back.
"You did well, niece. I'll see you properly rewarded."
She could only guess what that meant. Emma nodded again and left, barking orders for the Greek men to be prepared for the Festival. She would inspect them later.
Killian picked at the manacles on his wrists, trying to find a weakness. He'd been at it ever since he regained consciousness. He had no memory of being captured, but some of his erstwhile companions had been kind enough to fill him in. It seemed the lucky survivors of the slaughter (it couldn't truly be called a battle) were being carted off as trophies for the Amazons to use as they will. Slaves. Men to be used and discarded like so much trash. It disgusted him. It was a cruel joke from the gods, to have him kill so many of their warriors in battle only to be taken by them for a plaything. It was his punishment for having lustful thoughts about one of them, he was certain of it. Athena and Artemis using him for their sport.
The captured Greeks were kept in a dungeon, dark and dank; the only light came from the occasional torches of their captors. It was impossible to tell how many days had passed since they arrived, as there was no sign of the sun, no windows. They were surprisingly well fed and watered, but then again what threat were a dozen men in chains against the greatest warriors in the known world?
Still, Killian had no intention of sitting idly, awaiting his fate. He was a Spartan. He worked at the manacles daily, tried to make alliances in the dark. If he was alive, it had to be for a reason.
"Up, you Greek dogs! Up!"
"Oh, she sounds irate today," Killian's nearest neighbor said under his breath. "Best heed her, men."
"Who is that?" Killian asked.
"No idea. All these bloody Amazons bleed together. I'm pretty sure different ones feed us every day. Don't want to be tainted by us, I expect."
"They want us unspoiled," a somewhat familiar voice said quietly. It took Killian a moment to place it, but it was the commander that had led them on the field of battle. "I heard them talking about the Festival."
"What in Hades' name is that?"
"Twice a year, the Amazons round up their male prisoners and offer them to the Chosen."
"Offer them for what exactly?"
"To mate," the commander said. "To breed more of their kind."
"Well, that doesn't sound so bad," Killian's neighbor said, with a chortle. "I don't know about the rest of you but I could use a good tumble."
"We're slaves, you idiot," Killian snapped. "You really want them to use you for a stud horse?"
"If it means staying alive, then aye."
"Rumor has it you're forced to...copulate until seed takes root. If it does not, then you die."
Killian shivered. So his options were refuse and die now, bow to the wishes of his captors and be used to make more of them, and if he failed, die anyway.
He'd rather be in Tartarus.
The guard ordered them silent then opened the door to the cell. The men stepped through single file, chained together to discourage them from attempting escape. Killian blinked against the too bright sunlight, his eyes pained. The best he could do was follow the man in front of him, and even then they bumped into each other. Once his eyes adjusted, he counted ten Amazons guarding them, guiding them...somewhere.
"Line up along the bank," an auburn haired Amazon barked. The men formed two lines, most with their heads bowed. Killian refused to give his captors the satisfaction. He held his head up, even as the armed women stalked along the lines using their daggers to free the men of their clothing. Fifteen men stood there without a stitch and none of the women even blinked. Some of the younger men were not so bold, trying vainly to cover themselves.
"You will each be handed a cloth. Clean yourselves in the river. Thoroughly. The Queen wants her prizes well scrubbed for the Festival."
Before anyone could even draw breath, a sandaled foot poked each man in the back, forcing them into the placid river. It didn't seem that deep from the bank. Most of the men couldn't swim and it took a while for them to come up, shaking and spluttering. Killian nearly got yanked under by the man to his right and he scowled. He didn't dare speak. He just punched the man hard in the bicep and got to work. Despite the circumstances, it felt good, the cool water on his skin, scrubbing the dirt and dried blood off his body. To his surprise, his small wound was healing; it was a wonder it wasn't festering. It had to have been more than a week since he sustained it. He ducked under the water, chained hands sliding through his hair to clean it. He came up for air, gasping, and stopped dead.
It was her.
The golden haired Amazon stood at the water's edge conversing with their auburn haired guard, her armor gone, a pure white chiton in its place. The linen gathered over her left shoulder, held up with a simple silver pin, girdle cinched around her waist. She was thinner than he expected, thin but strong. His eyes traced the defined muscles of her arms, acquired from long hours of training. Ribbons from her sandals wound around her shapely calves, the chiton falling just above her knee.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from her; she was the most stunning woman he'd ever seen. Quite against his will, he felt himself get hard; he had to squat down in the water so no one would see. How would he feel about this Festival if she were his Chosen? Bedding her surely would be no hardship; he liked the fire in her green eyes, the curve of her lips. Surely there was passion to match the ferocity. Unbidden, an image of her naked and writhing under him came into his mind and he stifled a groan. Even worse was an image of her above him, pert breasts bouncing as she rode him into oblivion, wild and wanton.
He turned away, praying that no one caught him. They would surely only get a few more minutes in the water. Jerking so hard the men beside him protested, he closed his eyes and took himself in hand. He closed his eyes and focused, replaying all the ways she could never be his (not that he wanted that), quickly finding his peak. He bit down hard on his lip, swallowing the moan that tickled his throat. He calmed just in time for them to be summarily ordered from the river.
A line of younger Amazons moved among them, toweling them dry and rubbing them down with oil. Killian was doubly glad he'd found completion in the water; it was too soon for him to react to feel of feminine hands on his naked body. Not everyone was so lucky. A few of the unlucky ones had their cocks cruelly teased, much to the Amazons' amusement. Killian struggled to hold his tongue; now was not the time to test his captors. He hadn't survived this long by being stupid.
Emma stood off to the side, allowing the little ones to do their work. Cleaned up, the Greeks weren't half bad. One or two of them were even handsome. Elsa's younger sister Anna was among the maidens, deftly rubbing oil into the Greeks' skin one after the next. She didn't join in the teasing, but nor did she blush. Good. Anna was a few years away from participating in the Festival, but it was pleasing to see she wasn't unduly affected by the sight of a naked man.
Anna moved to the next Greek, allowing Emma to examine her work. This one was strong, toned and hardened from battle. His cock lay flaccid, which was curious. Was he defective? Her eyes climbed higher over the hairy torso; she wet her lips unconsciously. To her surprise, the Greek was staring at her. Bold as brass, his blue eyes drinking her in hungrily. It brought her up short, made her heart race. She felt her cheeks get hot; no man had ever stared at her so openly before. And lived to tell about it at any rate. His features were pleasing, his hair inky black from the water. They stared at each other for long moments, too long. Emma broke the stare first, silently berating herself. He was just a man, a Greek no less. She had no use for him. She was an Amazon.
"Emma? Are you well?"
She nodded. "Yes, Ruby, I'm fine. When the little ones are finished, put them in the palace, maximum guard. I don't want them getting soiled before the ritual." Emma turned on her heel and left; she needed to train. Right now.
Wasn't that interesting? Killian watched her go, the hard set of her shoulders, the scowl on her lips. His goddess had seen him, had looked at him like she wanted to devour him. If he hadn't spent himself minutes before, he probably would have embarrassed himself. However, just as quickly as she had come, she was gone. Clearly furious with herself, she'd stormed off, giving him (he couldn't help but notice) a fine view of her bottom. Had she been as affected as he? His instincts said yes, but Amazons were unpredictable creatures. She'd probably lop his head off for his insolence.
In the end it didn't matter. He doubted he'd ever seen her again. He needed to get back to the task at hand, trying to find a way out of the godsforsaken place.
Their new quarters made it much easier to measure the passage of time. They'd been in the palace for three days, ostensibly being treated like honored guests aside from their chains. The commander—David, Killian had learned—explained that this was to keep them docile and agreeable. As soldiers deprived of female companionship for some time, it was supposed that they would jump at the chance to mate with the attractive Amazons. They were the only men in a veritable sea of women and it was turning some of their heads.
Pretty Amazons brought their meals three times a day, plied them with wine. Killian seemed to be the only one who noticed the Amazons were sober and deadly with the swords at their hips. His fingers itched to try and snatch a sword and attempt a breakout, but he wasn't a fool. One Greek—even a Spartan—against six Amazons would be deadly. For him. He may take a couple of them with him, but he would still be just as dead.
His dilemma wasn't helped by his dreams. He couldn't get his Amazon out of his head. She haunted him, detailed carnal visions of them together, his name falling from her lips in ecstasy. He knew it was wrong, that he was a slave and nothing that was happening to him was just, but he couldn't stop. He cursed Eros with his waking breaths for piercing him with this passion.
Emma turned the corner before he could see her. Every day she'd come. For what purpose, she knew not. She didn't even know his name, did not care to know it. It vexed her, this obsession. Thank the gods the Festival was this evening and he would be gone from Themiscyra soon. She needed to stop picturing him when she touched herself, a need that she couldn't seem to sate. It was driving her crazy.
"Emma? The Queen is asking for you," Elsa said, interrupting her thoughts.
"I was..." She trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse. "I was checking on the prisoners." Which was true, to a point.
"Has Anna been attending her duties?"
"Yes, she's done well. You should be proud."
Elsa smiled. "That's good to hear. She's been bugging me about the Festival."
"She's too young!"
"As I told her. However, our mother thinks it would be good for her to attend, even if only to observe."
"After the opening ceremonies, there's nothing to see," Emma complained. She hated the Festival, because it meant that no battle was permitted. They could train, but the Amazonian armies remained at home. Emma wanted—needed—to be fighting, not sitting around listening to her sisters indulge in their carnal lusts.
"Going to train again?"
"It's either that or go on a retreat while the Queen uses one of them for sport." As Queen, it was Regina's duty and right to the most handsome of the captives for her own personal use. The luckless man didn't know that it was a death sentence, one Regina relished in almost as much as nearly sexing the man to death. For the Queen had never conceived a child. It was why she'd taken in her sister's daughter. Emma narrowed her eyes at her friend. "You're going to participate, aren't you?"
Elsa smiled slyly. "Of course. I've already got my eye on one."
"Which one?" It popped out before Emma could call the words back.
If Elsa noticed, she gave no sign. She glanced into the opulent cell. "See the blonde haired one?" Emma followed her friend's gaze; the man in question was speaking quietly to her choice. He seemed handsome, a little too pretty for her taste. She liked her ruggedly handsome Greek better. NOOOO, stop that, Emma. "Handsome, no?"
Emma shrugged, praying that Elsa couldn't see her crimson cheeks. "He's alright. I'll leave you to your oogling, the Queen expects me." She hurried off, straightening her chiton for the Queen's presence. The guard nodded her inside, after challenging her like a true Amazon. Emma stepped toward her aunt's throne slowly, respectfully, kneeling in front of the golden seat. "You sent for me, my Queen?"
"Rise, child." Emma rose, hand going to her sword. It steadied her. "I've been thinking of your reward for your victory over those vile Greeks. A princess should be rewarded beyond other warriors, don't you agree?"
Emma kept her face calm. She loved her aunt as family, but Regina was unpredictable at best, sadistic at worst. You never knew which woman you were going to get. In her day, she'd been a fine warrior, leader of the army. Having passed that duty to Emma, Regina's tendencies manifested in other ways, not all of them good. Amazons were warriors, not really in the business of making friends with their neighbors. Regina kept them safe, sent Emma off on campaigns and that was enough for her. "What did you have in mind, Aunt?"
Regina tapped her fingers on the arm of her throne. "It's past time you took part in the Festival, Emma. I've indulged your worship of Artemis for long enough. You must do your duty and provide for the continuation of our race."
Her heart lept. The Greek. He could be hers. Then she shook that thought off. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't want to lose her place at the head of the armies. "So my reward is to be yoked to a man and have his spawn? I'm afraid I must decline such an offer."
Regina leaned forward. "Your daughter will be Queen one day."
"Or I could have a son. What then? Toss him out to die of exposure? I know the law, Aunt. Our people will not lack for leaders when I am gone."
"You would turn down this gift? The gift of the most handsome, most virile of our prisoners?"
"Such a thing is your right as Queen. I would never dream of usurping your place."
Regina relaxed. "And there is no moving you? You would forgo the pleasures of the flesh? Remain a maiden?"
She only paused for a second before replying. "Such is my wish."
"Very well. Stay by my side during the opening ceremonies, then you may go on your way."
She only had hours before the Festival was to begin. Foolishly, she spent most of them training in the yard, trying to convince herself she was making the right choice. She was ferocious, going at her opponents with much more vigor than the situation called for, sword and spear and shield seeming to become one with her flesh. No, that was a bad line of thought because then all she could think of was the Greek and the fate that surely awaited him.
At the last moment, she headed to the baths, the cool fragrant water washing over her like a balm. She preferred swimming in the river, where she could drift with the current, where she could relax; it was her one indulgence. The one luxury she allowed herself. She'd been sneaking off there since she was a girl; no one knew it, not even Elsa. Certainly not her aunt. Regina would simply spoil it. Perhaps she would retreat there after the ceremony, shake off the memories of the Greek, pray for him. He would need it.
State occasions required she dress as the princess and not the general. Her best peplos and girdle overlaid with a purple cloak inlaid with gold, her hair spilling loose down her back. She brushed it until it shone; it would sparkle in the candlelight. Tradition demanded she go barefoot. She wore no jewelry, both out of personal taste and a desire not to outshine the Queen. Regina was very vain, particularly if there were men present. It wasn't very becoming an Amazon, but it was not Emma's concern to reason why.
The courtyard was transformed into an overwrought pleasure den; some of the "rites" would take place before the evening was over, right there in the open. Wine flowed, Bacchus would surely be pleased. Emma prayed to Artemis silently, that the goddess would grant her leave quickly before things got too out of hand.
"You'd think this was a funeral," Elsa teased as Emma took her seat on the dais.
"Regina offered me her champion."
Elsa's eyes widened. "She what? You didn't...oh Emma, you turned her down? Are you mad?"
"I have no interest in motherhood," she said stoutly. "Or in men." Do not think about the Greek.
"Men have their uses, Emma. Mother speaks fondly of my father. Anna's too. My own experiences have been...pleasant."
"I'm not you, Elsa. All I want is to lead our armies into battle."
"Suit yourself." Elsa turned; the Greeks were being led out. Her eyes lit up when she saw her chosen Greek. Emma fought the urge to look for her dark haired man, but failed miserably. He stood to her right, looking both furious with himself and curious at the same time. He was just as handsome as he'd been that morning, fresh oil glistening on his skin, hair and beard neatly trimmed. His eyes locked with hers and she felt that flutter in her chest again. What in the name of Hades was wrong with her?
Staves clicked on the ground announcing Regina's presence. The Amazons stood before their Queen, the guards forced the Greeks to kneel. Emma caught a glimpse of her Greek, his eyes defiantly on her rather than Regina. Stop it, Emma mentally pleaded with him. She's going to kill you either way.
"Amazons! Once again, it is time for our sacred rite! The gods have gifted us the power to thrive without the vile stain of man and for this we rejoice!" Cheers filled the courtyard, Emma caught sight of Anna watching with rapt attention. "There is, however, one power that not even Artemis can bestow. The gift of motherhood. Therefore our ancestors petitioned Hera for guidance! She who is the patron of women and motherhood. Our Lady proscribed for us this ritual, where twice a year we lay with worthy men for the continuation of our noble people. It is for this and only this that were are gathered here today. For the next moon, the Chosen among you will do your sacred duty and beget daughters to carry on our ways. Then once again we shall be clean of the company of men!"
More cheers. No matter how many times Emma heard Regina give that speech, it never quite set well with her. Vile stain? The men Emma had met in battle seemed more pathetic than vile. The Greeks fought as citizen soldiers rather than as trained warriors. Aside from the Spartans. They were warriors of respect. She had not yet had the honor of meeting them in battle but she lived in hope.
Regina raised her hands, asking for silence. "To prove their worth, we shall have a contest! Unlock their leg chains and deliver the training swords!"
So they were to be displayed as a spectacle before the bedding? A farcical one at that, Killian mused. None of them would stand against an Amazon. However, it quickly became apparent that his assumption was wrong. They were not to fight Amazons. They were to fight each other. Not to the death (how else would there be any of them left for this damnable rite?) but to posture and preen for the women like peacocks!
His own eyes betrayed him, flitting toward the dais as his leg chains were unlocked. His goddess sat there looking even more beautiful than he could have imagined in his wildest dreams. She was a vision in white and purple, tresses spilling over her shoulders like sunlight. He felt her eyes on him, opaque and unreadable. Another Amazon sat next to her, trying to engage her in conversation, but she seemed to be having none of it. Once again, they were locked in a battle neither was willing to back down from. This time he was the one forced to yield, as the guards directed them to positions. The wooden practice sword was heavy in his hand; his chains forced him to swing it two handed. As they were not permitted shields, Killian didn't think many of the men would last long; it was simply not how Greeks were trained. They were meant to fight as a unit, as one, not each other. The man across from him was shaking, whether from fright or excitement was anyone's guess. He was younger than Killian, slight of build, fresh faced now that they'd been washed. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian saw the guards wrap around them in a circle, spears pointed inward to discourage the men from entertaining ideas of escape. If he could get one of them, he might stand a chance. With his legs free, he was fast and the sea was only a single rise away. He could make it. Even if he didn't, it would be better than becoming a plaything for one of these she wolves.
"Begin!"
Killian growled and attacked without any other warning. His man was not prepared and lost several feet, ducking and dodging, not landing any blows in return. He couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. The Amazons only valued strength, courage in battle, and would not be kind to him. The wooden sword came down heavily against the young man's back and he went sprawling to the sand. Killian's head was on a swivel, searching for his next opponent...a shiver from behind him warned him of danger and he spun, parrying the thrust meant for his head. This he knew, how to fight, how to live. He couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled up, barking from his lips; Spartans were bred for the battlefield.
Emma leaned forward in her seat, thighs clenching, desperately trying to ease the ache she felt. Her Greek was fighting like no man she'd ever seen, his sword not hampered by chains. He felled man after man, circling, always seeking another. The captives dwindled steadily; of the original fifteen only four were left. They were paired off, their blows and cries overshadowed by the cheers of the Amazons. She'd been to over a dozen of these Festivals and never had her body reacted this way. Heat simmered under the surface of her skin, wetness pooled between her thighs. Her dreams seemed to play before her eyes, her Greek's war cry melting into one of pleasure as he took her over and over again.
"Emma? Are you alright?"
She snapped out of her daydream and looked at Elsa. Her friend seemed much calmer than she, even as her blue eyes burned. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."
"It seems I chose well. Look."
Emma glanced back to the circle. Elsa's Greek stood tall, sweat pouring off his skin, chest heaving. He only had one opponent left. Her eyes locked with the now all too familiar blue ones and she gasped.
It was him.
Covered in dust and sweat, dark hair falling into his face, she would swear he was Ares come to life. Emma had never met her grandfather, but as the god of war she respected him. Many decades ago he'd concealed himself at these very games, winning the favors of her grandmother.
"We are down to two!" Regina announced, breaking Emma's reverie. "Clear the circle!"
The guards manhandled the fallen Greeks back, returning their leg irons. Most were bruised and sweaty but not permanently damaged. Thirteen of her sisters would do well tonight.
"I'm torn," Elsa whispered harshly in her ear. "I want him to win, but then the Queen gets him!"
Emma's stomach dropped. The champion of the contest belonged to the Queen. If her Greek won, Regina would claim him and he would die. Not tonight, not tomorrow, but slowly. First by the Queen's insatiable appetite then by her hand when no child was forthcoming. Panic clawed at her throat. What was wrong with her? She'd not felt the like since her first flush of battle, years ago. As her mother used to tell her, only a fool was not afraid. But fear could be channeled for good. It was something Emma never forgot, it comforted her in trying times.
"Emma!" Elsa shook her arm. "What is wrong with you?"
She could not answer because the battle had begun.
Killian sized David up, looking for the right angle to strike. They'd joked during their captivity about fighting each other, but Killian had prayed it would not happen. The man was the closest thing he had to a friend in this place. And while this wasn't a fight to the death, he didn't want to get David caught up in his own escape attempt. Win the contest, then in the ensuing chaos try to disarm a couple of the guards so he could run. Not a well thought out plan, but his options were extremely limited. This was likely the only chance he would get.
David swung for his bicep, trying to disarm him quickly. Killian spun out of his way, renewed strength flowing into his arms. He countered with a jab at the man's side, which doubled David over. He snarled and rose up, sword raised high. Killian gave ground as David attacked, clumsy hacks and slashes. It brought him closer to the edge of the circle, which was well for his plan. End this quickly and he might be able to slither through without fighting anyone else.
David got him in the shoulder and he howled in pain. There would be a nasty bruise there in the morning. Unfortunately, it raised his hackles and Killian attacked, catching David mid swing and shoving back as hard as he could. David went down, yelping in pain, desperately trying to parry Killian's blows. One satisfying twist of their entwined wrists and David's practice sword went skittering away in the sand. Killian stood over him, sword pointed at his throat, triumphant.
Which lasted for a heartbeat and his survival instincts kicked in. He ignored the cheers of the Amazons and ran, a full out sprint. It was awkward with his wrists shackled and the sword in his hand, but he dared not drop it. One of the Amazonian guards knelt to tend to one of the prisoners and Killian lept, foot coming down heavily on a Greek back, then an Amazon, trying to jump the distance. It was only then that the spectators seemed to realize that his actions were not part of the show. Cheers turned to howls and a spear thrust out, tangling his legs. He screamed in pain as he hit the ground, rolling to cushion his fall. In seconds, before he could properly regain his wits, spears were digging into his skin, but not enough to break it. One hovered far too close to his eye and he dropped the practice sword in surrender.
Her heart pounding, Emma was on her feet like all the other Amazons. She couldn't help but feel a little proud; she had to respect his attempt to escape. A fool's attempt, but one she would have taken in his place. She understood. She could only pray that it did not cost him his life. At least not yet.
"Bring him!"
Emma's gaze darted between her aunt and her Greek, lip sucked between her teeth. Regina was difficult to read. If this were any other man, Emma was sure he would die on the spot. But he'd won the games. Regina would never accept second best as her champion. Did it even matter though? Whether now or four weeks from now, the man would die. It was the law.
Why did that thought fill her with dread?
What should I do? Emma prayed silently. She didn't even know which god to pray to, but she couldn't stand there and do nothing. Regina offered you the champion. Use it. But she'd turned that down. She didn't want to be a mother. She didn't want any of this. Unbidden, her eyes fell once more the Greek, head held erect as he shuffled forward. More dirt and sand covered his naked flesh, he had the beginnings of a couple of bruises, one on the shoulder and one on his hip. She'd never questioned her people's laws or customs before. It was simply the way things were. However, she knew in her heart that this man did not deserve to die like this. He was a proud, brave warrior. He deserved to die on the battlefield, a hero's death.
The guards forced him to his knees, but he looked up at the dais defiantly. "Your name, Greek?"
"Killian, milady."
Killian. His name was Killian. Emma sucked in a breath, trying to reign in her racing heart. "Just what did you hope to accomplish with that little stunt?"
"Escape, milady. Spartans did not take kindly to captivity."
Holy Hera, he was Spartan. It made perfect sense now, her attraction to the man. If any Greek could be worthy of an Amazon, it was one from Sparta. "Do you know how we treat prisoners who try to escape, Greek?"
"Death, I would imagine."
A smile curved her lips. Even in the face of death, he knelt there unafraid. She was so caught up in the revelation that she almost missed the command to fetch Regina's sword. "My Queen!" Emma cried, stepping forward.
"Yes?" Regina did not look pleased at being robbed of her fun.
She swallowed. "This Greek has fought well. He has won the games. Surely this merits a reprieve from the gods?"
"How so?"
She scrambled for a reason. "It is the law, my Queen. The winner is your champion, earning the right to lie with royal blood. Would you abdicate that to another?"
"But he is wild and untamed, I doubt Queen Hera intended for the royal line to be...tainted thus."
"I will claim him," Emma retorted. "You were right, Aunt. It is time I did my duty to our people. I claim him as spoils for my victory over the Greeks and as princess of the Amazons."
Regina felt torn; long had she desired for her niece to indulge in the ancient rites, but her instincts told her the Greek was trouble. More trouble than he was worth, no matter how pretty. In other circumstances, he was the perfect plaything for her, to be used and discarded. She would have enjoyed breaking him. However, she could not tolerate disobedience from a slave. Still, she could be patient. If he failed in getting a child on her niece, he would die anyway. And if he did...she could wait until he was well away and send someone to end his life. Emma would never know.
"Very well. He belongs to you." Regina bowed in Emma's direction and she nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. The other Amazons cheered; Emma was well liked amongst them. She nodded to the guards, indicating they could take the Spartan to her suite. He caught her eye, a multitude of emotions playing behind them. Then he turned the corner and was gone. Emma stayed behind, watching the other Chosen select their mates. Elsa got her man and looked very pleased about it. If Regina was upset about going without, she gave no sign.
Spears poked him from behind, urging him in the right direction. He was still reeling, trying to figure out precisely what had just occurred. And why he was still alive. He'd fully expected to be executed, determined to face death as a Spartan should, with his head up. Then the princess (sweet merciful Zeus, she was a princess) intervened. For him. She'd saved his life (for the moment) and he could not figure out why. He tried to distract himself by memorizing the path to the princess's suite, but it was near impossible. All the passages looked the same. The palace felt like a maze, some god's diabolical plan. They shoved him into a room and ordered him to stay there. Two of the guard remained outside, to ensure he did not try to flee again. Not that he would get far with his legs chained.
The rooms were filled with moonlight, the orb bright and clear in the sky. He had until the next moon to find a way out. Or die. And how would he spend those weeks? The princess's rooms looked more sparse than he expected. There was pallet on a platform, clean linens, a couple of soft stools. It looked more like a campaign tent than quarters for royalty. But he'd seen the princess fight. She was a fearsome warrior, likely eschewed creature comforts. A red silk cloth hung around the pallet, affording a spot of privacy. Was this where she would have him? Would he let her? Did he have a choice? He'd dreamed of her, but he never expected to actually have the opportunity. He thought he'd either be dead or halfway to Sparta by now. But the gods appeared to have other plans for him.
The gods must hate him.
"Have water, cloths and salve brought to my quarters," Emma ordered. She'd broken free of the Festival at last, attempting to hide her nerves with demands. She wasn't afraid of her Spartan, but she had no idea how he would react to her. Their fleeting moments in no way prepared her for what came next. She was still buzzing from watching him fight; she wanted to bed him, in spite of her desire to remain unencumbered. But if he'd been trying to escape, she doubted he'd be amenable to her desires. Captives weren't supposed to have the choice, they were slaves in the eyes of the law. But she couldn't force him into her bed. Perhaps others could, but she could not.
"Have fun with that one," one of the guards, Aurora, said as she approached. "A Spartan!"
Emma forced a smile. "Once I have my supplies, you may depart."
"But Princess..."
"Do you really think he could best me? Am I not the head of the army? I think I can handle one weakened Spartan, Aurora."
"The law says..."
"Fine. But move to the end of the hall. I would have the Spartan to myself."
"Yes, Princess." Aurora looked a bit put out and not just because of the law. Not among the Chosen herself, she wished to live vicariously through Emma, listen to their coupling. Oh well. Perhaps this would earn Emma a measure of trust from the Spartan.
She stepped through the doorway, eyes seeking him in the moonlight. He didn't seem to be in her room. Had he jumped off her balcony? It was a hundred cubit drop; he'd probably break a leg. She moved that way anyway, faintly wishing she had a weapon. She prayed she didn't need it, after all she'd done for him.
He was on the balcony. Not attempting to flee, merely looking up at the sky. The soft light of the moon washed out his tanned skin, emphasizing his chiseled features and dark hair. Even covered in dirt and sweat, her body ached for him. He was beautiful.
"Come to inspect your prize, Princess?"
His boldness both surprised and excited her. "My presence was only required through the opening ceremonies, Spartan."
He turned from the sky, eyes on hers. "That doesn't answer my question."
"Perhaps it is because you are speaking out of turn."
"Why did you save me?"
His steely gaze unnerved her. Where was her water? "Would you rather die by the Queen's hand, Spartan?" she snapped.
"My recent escapades aside, Princess, I don't have a death wish."
"Then why run? You had to know the consequences."
"I thought I explained that rather well."
She laughed. "Because you are Spartan? You're still only a man and men are weak."
Somehow they'd closed some of the distance between them, his nostrils flared. "If that is so, then why are we here? Could the gods not grant you the power to procreate without...assistance?"
Emma inhaled sharply; she could feel the heat radiating off him. It called to something deep inside her, a yearning she did not know she possessed. "It is not our place to question the gods."
Killian wet his lips, raking his eyes over her alluring form. Her golden hair was silver in the light, her skin pale and perfect. He could see the curves underneath her peplos...wanting her was not a problem. He doubted she'd ever been bedded properly; from her words with the Queen, she'd never enjoyed the Festival before. Why not? Gods, she was beautiful. She was the kind of woman men fought over, like Helen. Killian had never seen his Queen up close, but he would wager that his princess was the more beautiful.
A servant came hurrying into the suite, breaking the charged silence. Emma sighed in relief. "Come, allow me to clean you."
Killian cocked a brow at her. "Is that usual for royalty? Or is such an honor only accorded to the champion?"
She rolled her eyes and yanked on the chain linking his wrists. "Come." To her surprise, he followed her calmly enough. The serving girl lit candles, the room glowed yellow and orange. Emma indicated for her Spartan to sit on one of the stools and she dismissed the girl.
"Dismissing your servants, is that wise?"
Emma scowled. "Are you going to give me trouble, Spartan?"
"Depends on what kind of trouble you mean, Princess."
She produced the key to his chains from the folds of her peplos. "I..." She took a breath to steady herself. "I would like to find an...accord with you, Spartan. I have, as you mentioned, saved your life."
"Unless I don't get a child on you," he pointed out. "That is the point of this Festival, is it not?"
She huffed. This was not how she wished this to go. Why was he being so obtuse? "Fine, have it your way." She pocketed the key again and dipped a cloth into the water. After squeezing it out, she began at his throat, deftly wiping away the grit and sand from his skin. Naked men normally did not affect her, but she was still wound up by his display in the circle. The muscles rippled under his skin as she cleaned it; she couldn't help but touch his flesh. He was so still, it scared her a little. Was he preparing an attack? Her eyes found his and they were nearly black. His breathing was shallow, his skin hot and not from the water.
When he stood, she knew why.
He wasn't defective at all.
Emma swallowed and glanced away, realizing she was staring. How could she not with a gloriously thick cock in her face? The Spartan was much larger than most of the men she'd seen. She flushed, heat building in her core. Her hands shook a little as she continued her task, wiping down his hips and thighs. Swallowing thickly, praying the shadows hid her blush, she washed the dirt from his crotch, ignoring his little whine of pleasure. Moving on, he hissed when she touched the tender spot on his left hip.
"Does it hurt?" Gods help her, her voice cracked with desire.
"I've had worse."
"I...uh, have a salve. It should help." She didn't know why she was explaining to him; he most likely didn't care. Indeed, his erection probably didn't mean anything either. The length of time without a woman, most likely.
Killian nodded, clenching his fists. She was making him crazy, like Bacchus trying to claw into his head. The mere sight of her made him hard at the river and now she was touching him. Her hands were softer than he expected, her touch even tender. He couldn't help himself, his cock standing painfully at attention. Why was she going to all this trouble? It was clear fucking her wouldn't be a problem for him, so why not just take her pleasure and have done with it? Chained as he was, he could hardly resist her. Instead, she was taking her time, scrubbing him clean, hardly glancing at his cock. The cool salve touched his skin and he hissed again, pain lancing up his side.
"Apologies. You took a hard fall."
"I remember."
She looked down at his leg irons. "I'd like...I'd like to remove these. If I don't clean under them, your skin will chafe."
"What do you want from me, Princess? A vow not to run?"
"That would be a start."
"Leading to what?"
"Do I have your word?" Please, she prayed, be reasonable, Spartan. Please.
He considered her, then nodded. She clearly wanted something, but was having trouble articulating it. He was thoroughly intrigued by her, even against his better judgment. There were certainly worse things in the world than the charms of a beautiful woman, even if she was an Amazon.
Emma produced the key and unlocked the chains. She tossed them aside and washed away the dirt around his ankles and feet. Then she grabbed a clean cloth and stood so she could clean his face. Killian went very still, waiting to see what she would do next. More salve went into the bruised shoulder, then she bade him turn around. She repeated the process down his back, leaning close to inhale his scent. Salty, earthy, all man. She struggled to suppress a moan, thighs clenching. How could the gods be so cruel as to give her this man, one who surely would want nothing to do with her?
"Princess?"
"Yes?" Water ran over his buttocks, she bit her lip.
"Why did you save me?"
"Can you not rejoice in your good fortune?"
"Is it good?"
She finished the back of his legs and stood, damp fingers grazing his skin. "It could be."
Could be not get a direct answer out of her? "Do I have a choice?"
"Yes!" She winced, not expecting her voice to be so loud or so vehement. "I know what the law says, but I will not force you, Spartan."
"Killian," he whispered. "My name is Killian."
Emma took a deep breath and turned him to face her. He was still erect, his blue eyes burning with desire. She breathed deep, her nipples hardening. "Do you want me, Killian?"
"Is it not obvious, Princess?"
Boldly, she slid her hands over his abs and curled them around his cock. He groaned as she stroked him, which told her she was doing it correctly. There was no reason this could not be pleasurable for both of them. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you've been too long without a woman."
"I am not some callow youth, Princess. This is your doing and only yours."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because I saw you, when we were forced to bathe in the river. I was utterly taken by you, aching in the cool water. I had to...relieve myself, lest I be caught lusting after you."
Emma did not bother to disguise her moan, pushing him against the wall. No sooner did his back hit the wall than he crashed his lips to hers. She was caught off guard, having never been kissed before. Killian did not stop, showing her how it was done. She caught on quickly, opening on instinct when he pressed his tongue to her lips. Emma rubbed her body against his hard one, trying to have everything at once. It was overwhelming, this need she felt.
Killian was frustrated by his manacles; he wanted to hold her, to remove the broach holding her peplos up so he could stroke her curves. If she was giving him the choice to bed her, then he was taking it. He'd regret it, if he did not. And he had no intentions of going to the Underworld with that kind of regret. "Princess," he gasped, moaning as she took control of the kiss. She was every bit as fiery as he'd imagined, but he needed to be free. He broke the kiss, skimming his lips over her jaw, down her throat. "The chains. Please."
She seemed to snap back into herself, if only for a moment, hands finding his between their bodies. "Can I trust you?"
Her pleading eyes broke him. Any thought of teasing her flew from his mind. "I swear on my life, Princess."
She fumbled for the key, lost somewhere in her peplos. "Emma," she said. "I'm called Emma."
"Emma," he said reverently. He held out his wrists in supplication, waiting for her to find the key. Her triumphant smile warmed his heart. She unlocked the manacles and they fell to the floor with a clatter. There was dirt under the cuffs, his skin was abraded and red. It hurt her, seeing what had been done to him.
"May I?"
He looked confused for a moment, then nodded. She fetched a fresh cloth and cleaned those wounds as well. She went for the salve but Killian stopped her. "If I don't have you soon, I may burst," he confessed.
She blushed, actually blushed, something she never would have expected. To hear that he yearned for her as much as she did him was everything she didn't know she wanted. Nodding, she reached for her broach, unpinning it. The silk fell to the floor. Killian drank her in, the soft curves of her breasts and hips, the strength hiding under miles of pale skin. "So beautiful." He reached up, fingertips tracing the swell of her breast, other hand sliding over her hip. He pulled her to him, dipping her head back so he could kiss her.
Emma mewled, her skin on fire. Everywhere he touched her burned, nipples teased by his coarse chest hair, throbbing cock pressed into her belly. She grabbed his neck, trying to get closer, trying to crawl inside him. Killian snaked his hand between them, finding her sex wet and swollen. His touch caught her off guard and she jerked, knees going weak. "Gods."
"So wet, Emma. So wet for me."
"Ugh," she whined. He was touching her most private place, rubbing the sensitive nub, a place only she had ever touched like this. She needed him inside her, wanted him more than she'd ever wanted anything. She was about to just fling him on her pallet when he picked her up and carried her there.
He wanted to spread her thighs and tongue her into the next life, taste her, but he was gripped by madness. Next time. Next time he'd worship her as she deserved. They would have four weeks to enjoy this, whatever it was. The gods had clearly brought them together for a reason and Killian was beyond questioning it now. This woman wanted him, needed him with the same fervor he needed her. As she said, it was not their place to question why.
She let him spread her legs, kiss his way up her torso. He suckled on her nipples and she cried out, not realizing how erotic that could be. She was having trouble recalling why she'd waited so long to participate in the sacred rite. This was heavenly. His cock nudged her and she reached down to stroke him. "Take me, Killian. Take me!"
He looked up at her, groaning at her urgent touch. She was more than ready, at least he thought so. He'd never bedded a virgin before. "Hold on to me," he warned. He pressed the tip of his cock to her dripping hole and slowly slid forward. She cried out, but not from pain. Her body stretched, sucking him in, deeper, and he was helpless against her. He panted, fighting the urge to move, letting her adjust to his size. She grabbed his cheeks and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him deeply.
"It feels...gods, it's so good."
With great effort, he pulled out a little, thrusting shallowly. "Princess...I need...gods, I need to fuck you."
Mustering her courage, she kissed his lips. "Do it."
He pinned her hands above her hand and began to ride her, her tight sheath gripping him. It felt better than any dream, the way she moved under him, the sounds spilling from her lips. He would not last long, she was too hot and too tight and he was mad for her. He pushed her right leg back to her chest, pounding into her, broken words telling her good she felt around him, how he intended to worship her thoroughly. Emma could only hang on, her skin feeling like it was melting around her. She was awash in sensation, a knot coiling in her belly, ready to burst at any moment.
Killian grit his teeth, determined to bring her pleasure before he took his own. She deserved that. He reached down to touch her nub, circling it with his thumb. Emma screamed, her walls clamping down in him hard as she climaxed. It had never felt like that, not even under her own touch. She was well versed in bringing herself pleasure, but this was hot and intense, the feeling of being full increasing her ecstasy. Killian rode her through the aftershocks (another new experience for her), his hips stuttering until he grunted softly, jerking as he spilled his seed inside her. He collapsed on top of her, his strength sapped. Between fighting and fucking, he was exhausted.
Emma lay there, trying to breathe, to get her bearings. Her lover rolled off her which allowed her to breathe, but did nothing to settle her racing mind. She'd done it at last. She given herself to a man, experienced the pleasure her sisters whispered about. She tried to focus on that because it did not frighten her. It was incredible. No wonder Amazons were so keen to be Chosen. She'd thought that denying herself would make her a better warrior, but perhaps she was wrong.
Killian groaned, rolling onto his side. What would happen now? Did he stay with her? Would he be sent back to the cells, only to be summoned when she wanted him? He hadn't thought about any of that before, so eager was he to have her. But it was worth it.
"Killian?"
He raised his eyes to hers, surprised at the fear he saw in them. Had he hurt her? "Yes, Princess?"
She scowled. "Emma."
"Is that only for when we are like this? I am a stranger here, I do not know your ways."
Her face softened and she rolled on her side to face him. "To be truthful, I do not know much about it myself. But I like the way my name sounds on your lips."
"Emma." He touched her cheek. "Apologies if I hurt you."
She frowned; granted, she felt a little twinge but she was an Amazon and accustomed to pain. "I don't believe you did. It was...better than I dreamed."
He smirked. "You dreamed about it? About me?"
"Don't get cocky, Spartan."
"May I make a confession?" She nodded. "I dreamed about you as well. That if I had to suffer this, I would want it to be at your hand."
"Suffer?"
He looked away. "Poor choice of words. My people have tales about yours, mostly to frighten the children. But given my captivity, can you blame me for believing the worst?"
"No, I suppose not." She bit her lip. "Is it wrong of me to be thankful that you were captured?" Now that she'd had him, she couldn't imagine giving herself to anyone else this first time.
For some reason, that warmed his heart. "Didn't you admonish me for questioning the gods?"
"True." Spontaneously, she leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers. He sighed and let her kiss him, weaving his hand in her soft tresses. They tangled themselves together on the pallet, Emma stretched out over his broad chest.
"Emma?"
"Hmm?"
"What happens now?"
She raised her head. "Do you...want to stay with me?"
"I get a choice?"
She stroked his flank; she couldn't seem to stop touching him. "Some of my sisters keep their men with them, others send them back to the cells." She looked into his blue eyes, taken off guard by the emotion she saw in them. She couldn't place it, but it made her feel good. "I'd like you to stay."
He grinned, hand rubbing her back. "However shall we pass the time?"
"Prayer?" she suggested, taking his acquiescence as a good sign. "Or you could tell me some of these stories your people have about Amazons?" She moved, straddling his hips. Taking his hands in hers, she urged him to cup her breasts. A breathy moan escaped, his thumbs circling her nipples, eyes watching her hungrily as they hardened. "Oh."
It would be a few more minutes until he could take her again, but he wasn't feeling so tired anymore. Not with his goddess astride him. "Or we could fuck until neither us can walk?"
Emma nodded, shaking her hair out behind her. Killian sat up, taking one of the hard buds into his mouth, relishing her soft cry. If this was the gods' plan for him, he would obey.