The Clash of Yesterday (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 0.5)

“You fought me back,” I whisper.

Because we had pummeled the hell out of each other and ended up fucking like animals. It was hate sex at its finest. We had just battled in the Coliseum and Ronan had won. Back in those days, I had to glamour myself to look like a man, as women weren’t allowed to fight. But, of course, being a Light Fae himself, Ronan knew exactly who I was.

We were the last combatants, just as we were tonight, and he had gutted me with a sword. It wasn’t a killing wound to me, but none of the fifty thousand Romans cheering Ronan’s victory knew that. I had to lay there and play dead until they carted me off with the other bodies where we were dumped in the lower cellars. Later, slaves would come and bring us to pyres for incineration.

Ronan came by not long after they’d dumped me. I had just sat up, looking down at my stomach wound, which was already mostly healed. Had Ronan been using iron, it would have taken days to recover.

He was smug, leaning against a column. The area was dimly lit with a few sconces. I had glared at him, stood, and moved past him. He followed me through the maze of tunnels that would lead us out of the Coliseum, and it all started with a taunt.

“Your fighting skills are puny, Meadowlander,” he’d said.

I answered with a sidekick that knocked him back several feet.

He flew at me, crashing me into the stone wall so hard that rock crumbled loose and dust floated around us.

We traded barbs and threw each other around. The more we fought, the more it didn’t seem like we wanted to kill each other.

Until, somehow, my back ended up pressed to his front with his beefy arm tightening around my throat. I thought he might try to choke me out, which would have been near to impossible, or perhaps break my neck, which would hurt but not kill me.

Instead, his other hand dove under the front of my tunic, easily burying into the swaddling-type undergarments one wore under gladiator clothing, and I was stunned when he so easily sank his finger into me because I was already soaking wet.

“Aaagh,” he’d taunted me. “Knew you were turned on.”

“How?” I sputtered, outraged at my own body.

His answer was to press his hips into my back, so I could feel the thick ridge of his desire.

And we didn’t speak again after that. Somehow, I ended up bent over a bench while Ronan rode me hard from behind. He did it with his hand wrapped in my hair, twisting my neck a bit painfully so I could see what he was doing.

He made me watch him fuck me.

Made me watch as I slammed back against him, having no desire for him to let me go.

Our climaxes were almost painful, both of us achieving ours at the same time.

When he was done, he walked away without a word. I straightened, felt his seed running down my leg, and, yet, all I could think was… Damn, that was good.

“You’re remembering the same as I am, aren’t you?” he says, his gravelly murmur floating over me, knocking me out of that memory. “That night in Rome… how hard we both came? We can fight again tonight if you want.”

I blink, taking in the confidence by which he knows what I’m feeling right now. Yeah, I wouldn’t mind battling him again, but it’s not needed. I want him without the need to provoke our anger because no matter how wrong it is, there’s also something very right about the way we make each other feel.

I shake my head. “No need to fight.”

Ronan’s eyes fire, my meaning sinking in, then he kisses me again. This time, he’s not demanding my yield, but rather coaxing me to him. He releases my hands, and they go around his neck.

I sigh into his mouth, and then I lose track of time.

Our clothes come off, melted away by magic. Not sure if it’s his or mine. We sink to the bare grass, dewy and refreshing against my heated skin. Lips and fingers and teeth everywhere. So much touching, the need mounting within us until it feels almost too frenzied.

And just about when I’m about to demand he fuck me, Ronan lifts me off the ground, his great brown wings, the exact color of his hair, flapping in a slow but powerful rhythm. My legs go around his waist and his hands squeeze my ass. I can feel the tip of his cock at my entrance.

I’m not sure if he thrusts up or I slam down, but then he’s inside of me while we continue to rise higher and higher into the air.

His hips move, driving into me, and it feels so good that my wings release. But I don’t help with flight, merely keep them tucked behind me where I can feel them shivering at every stroke of him inside me.