Bound to the Battle God

by Ruby Dixon

  Aron caresses my head, his fingers in my hair, and then nips lightly at my mouth. “Shall we climb into bed?”

  Bed? I nod, dazed. I’m tired, but more than that, I want him to hold me. Bed sounds like a very good idea right about now.

  He slips an arm behind my thighs and lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed like a bride on our wedding night. In a way, I guess this kind of feels like one. I feel as if Aron and I are starting a new life together. Instead of just anchor and Aspect, we’re man and woman, together.

  I won’t think about the future. Not right now. Not until we leave this tower. It can wait. It can all wait.

  Aron’s gaze is locked on me as he gently pulls the buckles free of my wide belt and then slowly removes my long gown. When I’m naked on the bed, he straightens and begins to undress. I always forget just how powerful Aron’s body is. There’s not an inch of fat on him, and he’s all corded muscle and obliques. His six-pack ripples down his abdomen, and he’s no longer as pale as he was when I met him, as if he’s gained color—and life—simply by being in this world. Scars cover practically every inch of his skin, though, and I forget just how many he has until he undresses and shows me again. The long-healed gashes show red and sometimes white against his skin, some smaller and rougher, others large and long and deadly. The one on his face that crisscrosses over his green eye is the one I’m most familiar with, and I look up at him, worried. So many scars. So many brutal battles. Seeing him like this can get a little overwhelming, and every mark of a blade on him is a reminder that we might not win.

  “You’re frowning. Do you not like my scars?” Aron asks, and there’s amusement in his voice as he stands over the edge of the bed, looming in that arrogant way of his. Of course he’s arrogant. He’s a god, but more than that, he’s fucking amazing and he knows it. I no longer see his arrogance as irritating, more just a quirk of who he is. And I love all of him. “Do you want to know the stories behind each wound? All of them have a tale behind them.”

  I shake my head and raise a hand to him. “I just want to hold you, actually. Can we do that?”

  “I can withhold no request from you,” he says, and climbs into bed next to me. We’re naked together, flesh pressed to flesh for the first time, and this feels way more intimate than anything we’ve ever done before.

  Tentatively, I put my hand on his stomach. We’re facing each other, inches apart, and his hand goes possessively to my hip, as if he has to touch me at all times. “This is the first time I’m getting to touch you, do you realize that?”

  “You’ve grabbed me before. I distinctly remember several times in which I had to pry your eager hands off of my cock.”

  I laugh, because I remember that, too. “So are you going to push my hands away again today?” And I slide one down to his dick, just to test that theory.

  “Never again,” he says solemnly. “I am yours to claim, just as you are mine.”

  I am totally going to test that theory. I sit up in bed, gazing down at him as he rolls onto his back and tucks a hand behind his head, the most casual of men. As if we’ve done this a dozen times already. Truth is, I’m itching to touch him. I remember each furtive touch I gave him in the past and how he pulled me away. The realization that he won’t do that again is a heady one.

  And the man is stinking beautiful. It doesn’t matter that his body is covered in scars. There’s no part of him that isn’t perfection. I trace a finger down one long, jagged red mark that crosses his belly and arches over to his hip. His pectorals are hard and flat, his shoulders broad, his hips narrow.

  His dick is just as enormous as I remember from those furtive touches and our time earlier in the hall. I knew he was well equipped. I mean, no god is going to have a teeny weenie. And when we made love a short time ago? He was so big that it felt life-changing. Looking at him now, I see that it wasn’t just my imagination. His cock is long and thick, the head prominent. Veins trace up and down his shaft, leading down to a lightly furred ball sac that can only be described as thick. Every inch of him is thick and meaty and my mouth waters at the sight. I think of all the times that he made me lose control, and I want to do the same to him.

  Out in the hall? That was the first time I ever saw Aron lose his shit. When he pushed me against the wall and fucked me as if he would die if he wasn’t inside me in the next moment. That was heady stuff, and I want to see it happen again. I want him to lose his mind with pleasure.

  Which means figuring out what he likes.

  Which means I get to play with his cock. I smile, feeling a bit like a cat that licked the cream, and lean over him. He’s a god, and so he’s probably done everything a million times before. I don’t want to think about that, so I’m going to focus on enjoying him myself. On pleasing me with his body, because that’s all I have to offer in this equation—me.

  So I lean over him and let my long hair tease his thighs, tilting my head to the side as I study him. I make sure not to block his view, because I suspect he wants to watch. His gaze is on me, and I can feel his body tensing ever so slightly. It makes me feel powerful.

  I’m the first mortal he’s wanted in forever. Me. That gives me all kinds of power over this strong, sexy god. He might be the lord of storms, but I’m the one he lost control with. I’m the one he was so desperate to fuck that he pushed me against a wall and plowed into me where anyone could see.

  Smiling, I slowly wrap my hand around his cock, testing his girth. He’s so thick that my fingers don’t meet, and I shiver a little at the memory of how he’d felt deep inside me. I lazily squeeze the base of him, liking the intake of breath that he makes, and then release him so I can glide one finger along a vein, tracing it to the prominent head of his cock, where it disappears underneath the edge of the crown.

  He growls, all impatience, and as I watch, a bead of pre-cum appears on the head of his cock, swiftly followed by another.

  “What does a god taste like?” I murmur, moving forward so I’m leaning over his cock, my hair falling around my shoulders.

  “See for yourself,” he rasps, and the look in his eyes is intense. How did I ever think this man wasn’t affected by me? I know at some point I’m going to tease and he’s going to break, and then he’s going to fuck me hard again, just because he won’t be able to help himself.

  My thighs squeeze with excitement at the thought, and that hollow ache in my belly returns. I want that. I want to make him break with lust. I love that thought.

  I lean in and use the tip of my tongue to lap up each salty drop, cleaning his cock. He tastes good, but I’m probably biased and it has nothing to do with him being a god and god-cum somehow being tastier. I just love everything about Aron—even his arrogance. “It’s just all right,” I tease.

  He scowls. “My seed tastes better than any other seed and you know it. Taste me again.” And his hand goes to my hair, as if he’ll guide me down.

  I shrug, leaning in to the game, and give his cock-head another swipe with my tongue. “Not bad.”

  Aron’s breath hisses out. “Woman—”

  “I’m just saying, I’ve had better.”

  “No, you haven’t.” He gives me another one of those smug grins, then pushes my head down again. “You must not have tasted it right. Take more of it into your mouth.”

  I feign ignorance. “You think I should?”

  “Absolutely.”

  An erotic thrill charges through me as he gently tugs my head downward. It makes me feel sexy, and I’m squirming with need, wiggling my hips as I lean down and grip his cock again, then take him into my mouth. He’s so big that he stretches my lips, and it’s hard to tongue him properly. I glide him as deep as I can, and then ease him back once more, giving the head a lick.

  “Well?” He’s breathing harder.

  “I need to taste again, just to be sure,” I murmur, then pull him into my mouth again, working the base of his cock with my hand. I keep my mouth wet, coating his big cock with my saliva, and take him a l
ittle deeper this time, and then deeper still when I work his shaft back into my mouth, gliding him along my tongue. I take him so deep that he hits the back of my throat and then I rise up, biting back the choked sound that threatens to erupt. And I look up at him.

  His eyes are slits of pleasure, the hand in my hair loose, and there’s such a blatantly erotic look to him that I’m breathless with need.

  “Do you know how beautiful you are when you do that?” he murmurs.

  “You’re just saying that so I’ll go down on you again.”

  “You’ll do it anyhow,” Aron says, his fingers gliding to stroke my chin. “Because you get aroused from pleasuring me.”

  He’s right, the arrogant jerk. Right now my pussy is totally wet and sensitive, aching with need. I love touching him, his hot skin, his big cock, and I love that he’s turned on, too. Just knowing I can do this to him makes me crazy with need. I just smile and take him deep again, working him with my mouth, with my tongue, with everything I can because I want to see him lose control.

  The low groan he lets out makes my pussy clench. I redouble my efforts, licking the length of his cock from base to tip, teasing his sac, doing everything I can to make him snap. I’ve barely taken the head of his cock into my mouth again when he rocks his hips lightly, thrusting, fucking my mouth. He shuttles his cock in and out, using my face as he breathes my name. I love it, and with my free hand, I slip my fingers between my thighs so I can touch myself. I’m so aroused I can’t wait for more. I need to come just as badly as he does.

  “No,” he grits out, and then gives my hair a tug, just enough to make me lift my head off his cock. “That’s mine.”

  “What’s yours?” I pant, breathless.

  “That pussy.” His eyes flare with heat.

  “I need more.” I squirm, rubbing my fingers through my soaking folds. “Is that so bad? Touching you gets me worked up—”

  “You’ll wait,” he says, all arrogance.

  I groan at his words, because as dickish as it is, it also makes me hot. Is this going to be a contest between us then? Because I can play that game, too. I pretend to acquiesce, moving my hand back to the bed, and take his cock with my other hand. I lean in, letting my breath fan over the wet head and hovering over it, teasing him.

  “Faith,” he breathes, his gaze utterly fascinated as he watches me. “Take me into your mouth again.”

  I look over at him and give him a sultry little smile. “You’ll wait.”

  Laughter barks out of him, and in the next moment, he’s got us reversed. Suddenly I’m on my back and he’s the one over me. His hair slides over his shoulder and he grins down at me, full of lust and amusement. “You’re the only mortal who thinks she can go toe to toe with a god, aren’t you?”

  I suck in an eager breath as his hands go to my body, jerking my thighs apart and sliding them around his hips. “Maybe I just like giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

  “Or maybe you just like it when I take you hard and rough,” he murmurs, then leans in and claims my mouth with a punishing, possessive kiss. That’s the only warning I get before he thrusts into me, taking me just as hard and rough as he promised.

  And oh god, it’s so good.

  My hands go to his head, cradling him as he kisses me, sinking into the sensation as he pumps into me again and again, claiming me as his. I don’t care that his movements are a little rough, or that every stroke feels as if he’s pounding deep inside me. It means I can let loose, too. I grab his shoulders and dig my nails into his skin, and I arch when he thrusts. When he kisses me, I bite down on his lip, and that only makes him wilder. The bed shakes, pushing against the wall with a shivering noise like hay rustling, and it’s barely audible over the thunder crashing outside.

  When I come, my entire body clenches and I cry out, shocked at how intense everything feels. Aron covers my breast with his hand, sending another shockwave through my body, and keeps taking me, wringing another orgasm through his hard, rocking thrusts. By the time he comes, I’m whimpering with the aftermath of the intense climax, and I clutch his sweaty body against mine as he collapses atop me.

  I feel so at peace. So…happy.

  I think of Yshrem, where Aron will “meet his destiny” and I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to think about that today. I’ll just think about the man sprawled atop me, who feels so good I never want him to move.

  “Tell me you love me,” I whisper, stroking his hair back from his face as he sits up.

  Aron frowns, gazing down at me. He touches my cheek, caressing my face, and then shakes his head. “I am a god, Faith. We do not love.”

  Strangely enough, that response doesn’t bother me, because I’m pretty sure he’s wrong. “You’d miss me if I died, though, wouldn’t you?”

  His brows draw together, and thunder snaps overhead. “Why would you die?”

  “I’m just saying—”

  Aron shakes his head slowly. “You are not allowed to die, Faith. Do you understand me?” His jaw is clenched, and there’s a wild look in his eyes I haven’t seen before. “I forbid it.”

  I nod, and when he leans in to kiss me again, I fight back a smile. Yeah, dude’s totally in love with me.

  He just won’t admit it to himself.

  66

  We don’t leave the bed for three days.

  Well, that’s not entirely true. I get up to pee, to eat, to drink, but other than that? I spend every moment with Aron. Kissing Aron. Touching Aron. Aron touching me. It’s a magical time, really. I think of it a bit like a honeymoon, where we’ve finally joined at a higher level and now we’re just enjoying each other and learning more as we go. I learn that Aron likes for his hair to be brushed, and that it arouses him. I learn that he gets aroused by watching me eat, because I enjoy it so thoroughly. I learn that Aron gets aroused by the soft sounds I make when I sleep, because he wakes me up and fucks me hard, then lets me go back to sleep.

  Really, I learn that pretty much everything turns Aron on.

  I’ve never been the object of intense fascination of a god before. He doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, and focuses all his energy entirely on me. In the three days we don’t leave bed, I orgasm more times than I think I have in my entire life. The scent of sex feels permanently etched into my skin, and like a wanton slut, I only crave more. How can I not? The guy knows how to work a clit, he knows where a G-spot is, he’s got a massive cock and undying stamina.

  Of course I’m eager to jump into the sack with him every time.

  After a few days of this, though, I wrinkle my nose at my own smell. “I don’t suppose this tower has a bath, does it? Because I sure could use one.”

  Aron lifts his head from where he’s kissing down my belly. “You want to bathe? I can bathe you.” His eyes gleam. “It would be my pleasure.”

  I snort. “In a tub? Because I haven’t seen a tub here.”

  “This was a human tower once,” Aron says. “It might have a tub.”

  “It was?” I’m shocked. This place is so creepy and surreal that I can’t imagine anyone living here…then again, haven’t we been hanging out here for days? Weeks? So maybe I need to rethink my idea of “creepy.”

  Sure enough, Aron asks Markos and Solat, and they’ve seen a washroom a few floors down. A short time later, we’re in the washroom together and the massive marble tub has been filled with steaming hot water, thanks to Yulenna. I relax against Aron’s broad chest as he cradles me in his arms.

  “Now this is the life,” I murmur, trying not to look too hard at the clusters of cocoons in the spiderwebby corner directly across from us.

  “It does not take much to please you,” Aron says with amusement, and twines his fingers with mine under the water. “A tub full of water, at least five climaxes a day, and all the food you can stuff into your mouth.”

  “When you put it that way, you make me sound terribly demanding,” I say, smiling as I close my eyes and rest against him.

  “Being an anchor is dema
nding work,” he murmurs, lips brushing against my hair.

  “Work.” I snort. “There’s a lot of things being an anchor involves, but I don’t know if I’d call any of them ‘work.’ The biggest task I have is putting up with the bullshit you spew on a regular—”

  My words choke off as he cups my pussy and slicks a finger between my folds, rubbing my clit. “Watch what you say, sweet Faith. You don’t want me to punish you, do you?”

  Oh lord. Aron’s definitely got a dominance streak and it comes out when he’s feeling frisky. Now I’m getting even more turned on. “Right here? In the bath?”

  “You can bathe first,” he reassures me, and gives my pussy a pat as if telling it to be patient. “Are you hungry?”

  “Is this a full-service bath? I am spoiled.” I slide deeper into the water, which means my hair is sticking to his chest, and his rock-hard thighs are beneath my arms. “But no, I can wait for now.”

  Aron runs his fingers through my wet hair, then begins to soap it with a bar we borrowed from Yulenna. “Is this much like the baths in your world? On Ert?”

  “Earth,” I correct. “And yes and no. We have running water, where you turn a spout and the water comes out of the pipe hot.” Yulenna filled basins and heated water to make this happen. “And on Earth I’d have shampoo and body wash and conditioner for my hair and all kinds of good-smelling bath products. And bubbles.”

  “But no war god to soap your body for you,” Aron says, and drags a handful of water over my breast.

  Nope, he’s got a point there. I arch against his hand, smiling when he begins to tease my nipple into a hard point. For a guy that didn’t want to get involved, he’s been nothing but touchy-feely ever since, not that I mind. “I’d trade bubble baths for you every day.”