I quiver against him, remembering the pleasure he gave me in the field, and knowing that there is now nothing stopping him from claiming me as all males claim females. I can feel the hard rod of his lust rising against my thigh, and I can feel my body responding with a slick desire.
He says he was made far away, but my flesh knows him more intimately than anything from this world. Here, inside Hyrrm, Vulcan begins to claim me with that intense dominance which made me eat and drink and live, and now brings soft moans to my lips. He pulls me from his thighs and he lays me on the ground, where ash makes a soft clinging bed.
Vulcan’s tongue traces the curves of my body, the wet surface sluicing a path through the paint slapped over my body by the tribe which rejected me. He is cleaning me and making love to me at the same time, removing the marks of the ancestors as he claims me for his own.
My thighs spread, wrap around him. This is how nature intended it to be, vulnerable female welcoming the male who proved himself to her. He is more than my hero. He is my lover. My guardian. My everything. Without him, I do not think I could draw breath. He has yet to slide inside me, but my flesh is already united with his.
He works his carnal magic on me, caressing my breasts and running his hands down to my hips to pull my sex back against the underside of his hard rod. I grind against him as he keeps licking and kissing, smearing paint, making his own mark on me.
“Mine,” he growls the word resonant in my ear, his fangs pressing lightly against my neck, not in threat, but in an act of claiming which makes excitement rush through me. I am being transformed in his embrace. I am no longer the girl who only had worth in death. I am now the woman who is being brought to full life in his arms, under his tongue. I feel desire winding up my spine, two serpents of need writhing inside me, making my hips dance with my moans. I lift myself to him again and again, the wet lower lips of my sex spreading human juices of desire over the hard ridge of his alien rod which still eludes my soft female cave.
“Yours,” I moan back. This pleasure is enchanting and life-saving. He awoke one hunger in me first, and now an even more powerful appetite has been activated. I spread myself, opening my body, begging him with little lyrical whimpers as he rises above me, his big clawed hands wrapped dark around the paler skin of my ankles. He holds my legs up and spread, and I am left to lie there, looking up the length of his conquering body, seeing all the parts of him which should terrify me, but which only make my inner walls clench with intense desire.
“MINE,” he repeats, pulling his powerful hips back to allow the head of his rough cock to slide down into the intimate position, the flared head of it pressing against the tender unclaimed opening.
This is true sacrifice. The last vestige of my maidenly virtue is taken from me as he pulls me onto his cock, my outer lips spreading for him, my body giving way to the conquering rod. There is one last sharp vestige of resistance in the form of the little piece of skin which was supposed to go to Hyrrm. But it is Vulcan who claims it, pausing and then pulling harder, making me take his flesh deeper… deeper until my hymen tears, my final sacrifice made as I am plunged onto his thick rod in one swift stroke.
I let out a shriek of pleasure mixed with a note of pain. There is nothing in this world which comes easy, much less the taking of this massive beast who now reaches down and pulls me up against him in a lustful embrace, my breasts pressed against his chest, my leaking sex wrapped around his rod so tightly I do not know how I will ever be free of it.
He begins to move me. Up and down, slowly at first, just a little fraction of a movement. I feel him moving inside me, our mutual juices lubricating the almost impossible fit of our sexes. I am whimpering with every little thrust, but he kisses the whimpers away, hides them with the possession of his mouth and keeps urging me up and down, claws pressed lightly against my bottom to make me rise when he wants me to, and fall when he allows me to.
He has taken me, but now he is making me take myself. Here, in the mountains where I was supposed to draw my last breath, I cry with my first coupling. I grind against him, a little bud of nerves pressing against the lower ridges of his belly, sending bolts of excitement all the way through my conquered flesh.