His touch was fire on snow, melting her into a puddle of warm water that burbled in ecstasy. One of his claws trailed down her chest to lightly rest against her belly button, and she mewled in desire. His icy gaze gave her nothing but the need to use her. It made her spine shiver all the way down to her tailbone in a combination of fear and arousal.

The one claw became two, and the two became four, and she gasped as they traced her abdominals, lightning on copper wire.

"Softness usually begets weakness," the animalistic Berserker muttered, "yet I know what your strength is."

"Y-yeah?" she whispered.

"Yes. You will make an excellent mother for my offspring."

Cold words stoked the fire in her core and she reached up to him, only to be forced back down by the hand on her navel.

"Stay down," he said. "It will be easier for you if you don't move. You'll need to focus on taking it all in."

She nodded, biting her lip. His eyes traced her entire body; once, twice. The claws ran down from her navel to her mound, and with just the tiniest pressure upon it, her back arched. She couldn't stop the violent groan of need.

"Please," she whispered, tears leaking from her eyes.

"As you wish, Master." There was an undercurrent of mocking humor underneath her title, but she didn't care. She wanted to be broken under him.

His tail flicked again, and he began to take the last vestiges of undergarments off.

Knock knock.

She froze and looked to the door.

"W-who is it?" she called out. A pause where she spotted that Berserker had stopped mid-motion, his gaze pointed at the door.

"Oh no," he mumbled with a fear that was so uncharacteristic of him that she had lost all desire to be bred by him.

A large dent shaped like a foot slammed into the door and she jumped. Before she even had time to reach for her underwear, the door snapped in two under the force, and blinding light from the hallway filled the room. As her eyes adjusted, she saw who entered.

"Scáthach?" she asked, confused.

"Aye," the Scot said clearly, a spear manifesting in her right hand. "Y'wanna explain what'cher doin', laddy?"

"Shishou, I can explain—" Cú started, his red eyes wide with terror. Terror earned, as it turned out, because the Scottish Lancer spun into a side kick that launched him into the nearby wall, making the metal creak in protest.

"Ah'm sure ye can," rage colored her tone in red, "but before ye do, I need ta hurt ye."

"No no no wait—" His protests were interrupted by Scáthach slamming her heel into his crotch region. His scream reached five octaves beyond what was humanly possible, and she grinded further into his nether regions. Ritsuka winced in sympathy.

"Ye thought ye could jus' plant'cher seed in any field ye see, eh?" She whacked him across the face with her spear, drawing blood as it passed through his lips. "Ye thought that any bitch who spreads her legs deserve what she gets, eh?"

The Scot leaned down and grabbed him by the neck, and though he had much more height on her, when she lifted him to eye level he seemed small in the face of her fury.

"Ah didn't take yer virginity to teach ye how to please a woman jus' so yew could throw it all away for a hard and tough pump an' dump, ye filthy degenerate."

"Shishou I swear—" She hit him with a right cross, and somehow despite the fact that he was in a Servant container, Ritsuka swore she saw one of his teeth get knocked out.

"Ye swore to me ten thousand times, but the only ones tha' matter are the geasa that bind ye to yer word. Ah don't see no geas bindin' ye here."

Lancer let the limp and moaning body of Berserker drop to the ground and then turned to her. She shook in pure fear as the Scot slowly made her way towards her naked form on the bed. Even were the door not open to the hall and she had five layers on, she would have felt exposed underneath those eyes.

"D-don't—"

"Ah'm not gonna hurt ye," the Lancer said, sitting on the bed. Her gaze did not soften as she turned herself to kneel in Ritsuka's direction. "Ah jus' 'ave one question for ye."

"What?" she asked faintly, and then gasped as a soft hand touched at her navel.

"Why'd ya start with the spikes and screams?" Scáthach smirked. "Ye gotta ease yerself into it all. Here, let me show you..."