there was build up to this moment, you know that - months of hostility making way to reluctant acceptance, weeks of sparking curiosity of one another and your differing cultural quirks that set you apart but also connect you - days of seeking one another out purposely to learn and understand and accept - a year of deepening friendship and eventually love, and then - and then -

for you it's -

those eyes, golden and green flickered like summer sunlight shining through new leaves, those arms that could wrap around you twice over, those hands with their elegantly long, dexterous fingers and leather-soft palms that are always warm no matter the season, that heavy brow that bears the weight of atlas, that chest that contains multitudes (that chest, oh, you want to crush yourself against it as if your soul and his could fuse together - )

he's so different to anything you've ever known, but so familiar too.

in this war-torn, post-pandemic world, morality is a luxury. in this world, this makes you feel good and that - that is a rare enough thing that a left-over social taboo from a dead culture doesn't make a difference. you're no longer used to the right to choose when the choices are on a scale of survival or death so this - this is precious. this is holy.

the series of previous minutes have become a blur, shifting images of standing under a waterfall watching water pour down your slick skin and turning, finding a starving gaze that makes your belly clench immediately, your hands start to tremble, his strides so heavy with intent they make your breath turn into gasps, make you skitter backward until you meet the wall of the recess behind and then his fingers sliding across your jaw, your clavicle, between your breasts and down your abdomen to the beginning of your pubis, his thumb catching your bottom lip as he tilts your chin up, as his ragged breaths fall humid onto the thrumming pulse of your neck and his thickly furred chest finally, finally presses against your nakedness -

its devastating -

he'd asked once, about your life before, what dreams had slipped through your grasping fingers, of a future that was all contentment and banality with a house and a car and maybe a partner, no kids and travelling to a new place once a year. your mind had conjured all sorts of random things, the lemon trees you'd wanted to plant in a courtyard garden and bronze bathroom fixtures to match bottle green mosaic tiles and all the antiquity journals you'd wanted to collect over a lifetime of varied interests; you'd shrugged and said the thing that only hurt a little by then - it didn't matter. the future you had now was better, because it had to be. the past was dead and you couldn't go back, couldn't linger on what-ifs and could-have-beens.

besides, you'd murmured, flashing a small grin his way, you had him now, him and the colony and your group of ragged comrades who'd been through hell with you, who'd shown you how resilient you could be in the face of complete hopelessness. that wasn't something the past had.

that was more than some fluctuating dream of potential peace could give.

his eyes on you, shrewd and knowing, fingers whispering over yours as your shoulders touched, your chest locking tight.

and then -

and then -

drowning probably feels something like this, your lungs expanding with every shattered breath and your body walking on a razor edge of consciousness as his hand rakes down your side to hitch your thigh against his waist, fingers bruising your skin carelessly because he can tell, can see it in your half lidded eyes that you want his marks everywhere, imprinted onto you so that you never forget -

having him between your legs, his coarse fur rubbing firmly against your exposed clit as his hands migrate to your ass is a reawakening; how long has it been since you felt lust like this? like if you don't have him inside of you, his mouth on your throat and your back arched in pleasure you might die? you whimper as he growls down at you, canines bared as his hips twitch restlessly and your back scrapes across the smooth rock because you can't stop yourself from pushing your tits against him so that your nipples rub, achingly, along his pectorals, your fingers scrabbling against his wide biceps as he crowds forward and tosses your other leg over his hip, your heart pounding so fast it feels like it's going to smash right out of your ribcage and those deadly teeth skimming along your jugular now, tongue tracing your jaw -

you want it in your mouth, could not give a fuck about bacteria and the lack of cleanliness - you don't even remember the last time you saw toothpaste let alone used it -

moaning, you turn to catch his tongue between your lips, your teeth scraping lightly as he grunts like it's been punched out of him, so on fire now that your head is starting to feel light, more than ready to feel his cock splitting you open - but his fingers tangle in your hair and jerk you back hard, your neck straining and a choked cry trapped behind your gritted teeth. his hips have stilled as he hovers over you, your breaths mingling as his gaze sears over your body, lingering on where you're pressed, wet and open, against him. god, but the thought of it - you can see it in his face, that he's been craving this or something like it - your shuddering moan is all it takes.

the first time someone went down on you, it had taken what felt like forever for it to feel even a little bit good; the position wasn't quite right, they'd used a rhythm that did absolutely nothing for you, even the suction hadn't elicited a response despite being strong enough to almost hurt - so you'd gotten pretty good at gentle direction, a little more to the right, flick your tongue instead of rubbing, curl your fingers up as you're pulling out. this is what you're anticipating now, except -

well.

you're desperate and everything about this is so fucking good that he could do anything and you'd probably come -

but -

his lips -

you glimpse his head between your legs as he fucking holds you in position with just his hands so your feet can rest on his shoulders and you're spread wide enough it aches and you can see -

his lips pursed around your clit as he sucks -

you think you might have drawn blood when your head snaps back, the pleasure so immediate that it feels like a knife, and a keening that you've never heard yourself make is echoing around the cavern as his tongue goes flat against you and he rubs down until he can thrust in, deeper than should be possible, your walls tightening around him, absolutely drenched and clenching on that organ as he pushes it into you over and over again, snarling -

"enough" you cry out, the first time you've spoken since this began, "please, please, fuck -"

he moans at the sound of you begging, shooting to his feet fast enough you think you're going to fall but his grip on you is steady, possessive, his hands bringing your ankles together behind his back and then pinning your wrists above you - fucking hell, it's almost too much being trapped in his powerful grasp like this and your eyes roll back, absolutely drunk on sensation -

"you taste," he rumbles, voice so low it vibrates in your bones, "you taste - "

he doesn't complete the sentence, seeming to finally lose all control as his cock slides along your skin and finds your burning hole, sinking in so easily it's obscene, the noise absolutely filthy as he grinds up before pulling out only to slam back in -

you remember seeing chimpanzees mating on national geographic when you were a teenager, the way the males pounded the females from behind looking crazed and painful and above all animalistic, and this is like that but there's something, some leftover memory maybe of his guardians and autumn afternoons on a picnic rug and what it should be -

he grunts every single time you tighten around him, his hand on the divot of your back tipping you to exactly the right angle to feel every ridge and vein of his cock along the nerves at your entrance, the head spearing so deep it stings - his thumb digs under your tongue so your noises can't be silenced, your throat rasping as you suck air in messily as he reaches down to circle your clit roughly, and through it all, through each thrust and twist of your helpless body, he watches you like you're prey -

your neck lolls back as he gradually slows from his frenetic pace, his concentrated stare drinking in every whimper you make as he pulses in sharp, punctuated movements, and you lift your heavy eyelids when you feel him stop and back away from the wall enough that he can push you to the floor before covering you with his weight, your fronts molded together as he starts to move again. he circles his hips slowly, catching up your legs to bend over his shoulders so he can graze his teeth across your nipples, and the fire simmering in your blood turns liquid. you dig your fingers into the fur on his head, shuddering and confused, teeth catching on your lip at the way he hisses when you push your hips against his. he picks up the pace in response as if he can't help himself, and you wonder then if he'd tried to gentle himself on purpose, control his instincts - as if you wanted anything less than what he truly is -

"more" tumbles out before you realise you've whispered it into his ear, "please - "

"caesar - "

and at the sound of his name in your desire-drunk mouth he gasps, eyes boring into you as you pull him flush against your sweat slick body, finally, finally, seeming to realise that you want everything -

he pulls out and flips you around, grasping your hair and slamming back in so hard your teeth click, and then it's - it's -

he fucks you like it's the last time he'll ever have you, roaring his approval as you push your ass against him with every stroke and cry, scream -

when it comes, the force of your orgasm is absolutely brutal, tearing through you and making your limbs flail so hard he's almost bucked off, a wail tearing from you as he speeds up before coming, teeth biting into your shoulder and arms wrapped around you so tightly you think you'll snap in two.

the aftershocks are cascading through your body, both of you shaking with the force of the released tension, and your vision swims when you feel his tongue softly caressing the broken skin of your shoulder. minutes pass with him softening inside you, his chest against your back a solid comfort. eventually, his grip eases and turns tender, palms stroking along your sides as his lips gravitate across your shoulders towards your turned face; he rubs them along your cheeks, your nose and your lips as he slips out and you roll under him, not kissing but just as soothing. your heart swells as his forehead presses against yours, your breathing starting to slow completely as you cup his face, unable to stop the smile that's spreading at the answering uptick at the corners of his ever-stern mouth.

the green-earth smell of the cavern surrounds you as you kiss him, as you murmur his name, as he folds you into his arms and breaths your name against your temple.

if this is to be your future, you'll hold onto it with all the strength you possess.