Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1—The Treaty

I stood in front of my door, cursing myself as I searched my bag for the keys. The sun was about to set, and since Hamburg had fallen, it was really not a good idea for a woman to be outside after dark.

Cold sweat formed on my forehead as my fingers rummaged through all the clutter I had been schlepping around with me. Damn it! Could I have left them inside? Could I have really been that stupid? Should I call my friend Julia to see if I could spend the night at her place? Should I call a locksmith? Should I—?

I let out a shaky sigh of relief when I heard the jangling of metal from deep inside my tote. I fished out my keys and was about to unlock the front door of the apartment building when I froze—there was a presence right behind me.

“Be silent and open the door, human,” a raspy male voice whispered into my ear. 

He had appeared out of nowhere, but now he was so close that I could feel the warmth of his body against my back. Before I was able to scream or turn around, a big hand covered my mouth. He was pressed against my back now, trapping me between his body and the painted wood of the entryway, the leather armor of his uniform digging into my shoulders. I knew he was wearing a uniform because that is what all Veril soldiers wore, and I knew he was a Veril soldier because they were the reason I should not have been outside once it got dark.

“You smell so good , human.” His breath was hot against my neck, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke, “If you do not open the door this instant, I will have you right here on your doorstep.”

I was paralyzed with fear, but at the same time—to my horror—I felt myself reacting to him, to his voice and his strong body so close to mine. For a moment, I gave in, relaxing against him, losing myself in his scent.

“You smell good, too,” I whispered.

Why had I said that? Was I out of my mind? At university, I’d heard my fellow students speculate about the Veril’s ability to twist human minds and bend them to their will. Was he doing that to me right now?

For the briefest moment, I felt him tense against me, but then his strong muscles relaxed, and he laughed softly, his breath tickling my skin. Apparently he had been as surprised by my reaction as I had.

“I am glad that you think so.” I thought I heard amusement ringing in his voice, but did the Veril even have that—humor? “Now open, before the last bit of my self-restraint runs out.”

And I did. My hands were shaking as I turned the damned keys in the lock— if only I had found them a little bit earlier— and he pushed against the door.

I had no choice. Nobody was going to come to my aid, even though the street, lined with little bars and restaurants, was still bustling with people… mostly men, of course. 

Even in the unlikely case that somebody did want to help, my assailant was within his perfectly good rights to capture me, and only a fool would dare to pick a fight with a Kirtim Shenk warrior.

After the massacre of Hamburg and our country’s forced capitulation by the Veril, we’d feared the worst: occupation by their troops, the loss of all our territory, or even total annihilation as punishment for our sins. But the Veril had been more lenient with us than we deserved.

All they had demanded were three things: The first one was the permanent right to keep their military stationed here while my country was demilitarized completely—a safety measure, they said, so we would not be able to attack them again. Secondly, the city of Hamburg—which had already been conquered—would remain Veril property and stay under the rule of General Tsul Vo’ren. The Butcher of Hamburg, as my people called him behind closed doors, had been in command of the decisive battle—of the massacre —that made us realize the sheer superiority of our enemy and led to our immediate surrender.

The territorial requests the Veril had made of my country were small; we had been dreading much, much worse. After all, it had been us who started the war, and we had seen in Hamburg just how grossly we had underestimated the Veril’s power and dark magic.

The Counsel of Twelve, the leaders of the Veril nation, promised peace and autonomy with no more deaths— if we met one final condition. They had no need for more land or power, as their territories were vast and bountiful, free from our dimension’s spatial constraints. But there was one thing they did not have: women.

Apparently, no girls had been born in decades, and even though their race lived longer than humans, they were facing the end of their kind.

When our governments met, Suchil Tem, Head Counsellor of the Twelve, had stated their third and final condition: Veril soldiers would have the right to procreate with any unmarried woman of their choosing, and twelve young women were to be given as wives to the most important Veril officials.

Since he’d had no choice, and maybe also since he wasn’t an unmarried woman himself, our chancellor, Kanzler Alexander Höcker, had agreed. The peace treaty was signed, and our rights were signed away with it.

Cool air engulfed me as the Veril maneuvered me forwards, pushing me over the threshold and into the building, my body taut against his. I lived in a typical city house with two apartment units on each floor, and the old stone walls and high ceilings provided excellent insulation from the humid summer heat outside.

His fingers were firmly closed around my wrist, and I felt the threat of his inhuman strength as he pulled me tighter against him and whispered, “Show me where you live.”

Instead of responding, I tried to yank my arm free but didn’t manage to move his hand in the slightest. In response, he tightened his grasp, making me inhale in pain.

His voice had a menacing tone as he spoke into my ear again, “I am much stronger than you, and I am much faster than you, human. You cannot run from me, and you most definitely cannot fight me. Do not be a fool and make this harder than it has to be. Now, again, tell me where you live.”

“Second floor,” I said, gritting my teeth in pain, “Please, you’re hurting me.”

“Go!” He used his body to push me roughly towards the elevator but loosened his hold on my wrist a little bit.

All I could hear was his breathing behind me and the wild beating of my own heart while we waited for what felt like an eternity.

My house was equipped with what had to be the world’s slowest elevator, a relic from the 1980s. When it finally arrived, I pressed my eyes shut. I knew it was childish, but I didn’t think I could bear the sight of his monstrous form in the lift’s mirror. With a metallic scraping, the door slid closed behind me, and when he spoke to me again, he didn’t whisper anymore. His voice was hoarse, and even though it had a tint of the otherworldly timbre of Veril speech, I was surprised at how good his English was.

Our occupiers mostly used English when they communicated with us. It seemed they had no particular interest in making us learn Veril, or maybe they just didn’t think that we were smart enough for it. But they also refused to speak German, surely out of spite for us. Of course, why should the conqueror have to learn the language of the conquered?

It was probably only a matter of time until more of us would know how to speak the Veril tongue—considering that the capitulation had only been five months ago—but for now, English was the lingua franca between our nations. The Veril usually spoke a very broken version of it—not him, though.

“Are you afraid to see the face of the man who will father your child, mishtz’in ?”

Anger rose in my stomach. He was mocking me, as if what he was going to do to me was not humiliation enough.

“Fuck you, you demon prick!” I hissed through gritted teeth, and the resulting tension I felt from his body told me that I had pissed him off.

“If you speak to me like that again, you will regret it. Now open your eyes, human,” he snarled into my ear.

I pressed my eyes closed even harder. Not out of anger anymore, but because now I was truly terrified. His strong fingers gripped my long, dark brown hair, roughly pulling my head back against him.

“Look. At. Me.”

My cheek was pressed against his; it was such a close, intimate position, and I caught his scent again. Why did he smell so good? It must be some kind of evil magic. I really didn’t want to anger him even more, so I forced myself to look at the monster in the mirror.

But he wasn’t—he was strange and inhuman, but no monster. Like all Veril, his skin was a dark shade of olive green. His stature was that of a tall human man with the build of a warrior. His size made me almost look small and fragile in front of him, even though I was considered relatively tall for a woman in my country, standing at 174 centimeters. 

He was wearing the typical uniform of Veril soldiers, made out of rough, dark-gray fabric overlaid with a piece of sturdy leather chest armor. Its engraved plates were strapped in place with metal buckles around his broad shoulders, sides, and back, and the strange combination of modern efficiency and otherworldly terror gave the elven fighters an eerie appearance.

Around his left arm, he wore a red band with golden markings—geometrical lines and triangles that were different from anything I had seen any Veril wear before. Maybe it was some kind of badge showing his rank?

Having grown up in a country that hadn’t had a war in its own territory for almost one hundred years, I was pretty clueless about military insignia. It was a topic that had always seemed completely irrelevant to me—until today. But I didn’t need to be an expert in weaponry to see that he was armed to his sharp teeth. A belt around his waist carried a gun, several knives, and something that I could not quite make out from my position, but looked like the hilt of a sword.

He lifted his head, and I inhaled sharply when our gazes met in the mirror. His irises were the color of molten gold. The pupils were more elongated than those of humans, and the outer corners of his eyes tilted slightly upwards. He had noble features, high cheekbones, and an aquiline nose. His black hair was short but slightly longer on top and neatly trimmed at the sides, leaving the pointy tips of his ears uncovered and making his otherworldly strangeness so much more evident. He looked like a dark elf or a beautiful demon lord. A long scar ran over the whole left side of his face, from his eyebrow almost down to his jaw. He did not seem much older than my twenty-three years, but I had no idea how to tell a Veril’s age. For all I knew, he could be a hundred years old.

He was still pulling my head back, his fingers tangled into my hair and his mouth terribly close to mine as he spoke, “That was not so difficult, was it now, little human?”

I shivered, unable to process the terrible thought that soon I would be carrying this creature’s baby.

“I guess at least my child will be beautiful,” I whispered.

Why did I keep saying my intrusive thoughts out loud? What was wrong with me? His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“ Mishtz'in ,” he said again, his voice dangerously low.

That word! It was the first Veril loanword to enter our language and one of the few I knew, besides some basics I had picked up here and there. It was, of course , an insult. People used it as a demeaning term for a woman who had fulfilled the Treaty —a euphemism for being violated by a Veril. I always thought that it was particularly revolting to call the victims names instead of treating them with compassion, let alone gratitude, for saving the entire nation from much worse treatment by the occupying forces.

Did it have the same meaning in its language of origin, and was he calling me something akin to a whore? And if he was… why did I care? Of all the things he was going to do to me—kidnapping me at this very instance, for example—being called names should be the very least of my concerns. But still, for some reason, it annoyed me to no end.

“You…,” I started angrily, but before I could finish, he had pulled my head back further and roughly closed my mouth with his lips.

The kiss was forceful, yet his lips were surprisingly soft. For some reason, the press of his hard body against mine, his strong hands in my hair, and his firm grasp on my wrist felt incredibly good. So good, in fact, that my knees were getting weak and my head was starting to spin. 

Don’t open your mouth , I thought frantically, remembering the stories about Veril venom that supposedly turned you into some mindless sex slave. I had always dismissed those as rumors, but with the way he was making me feel right now, I was starting to have doubts.

With a ping , the elevator came to a halt, breaking up our kiss. I gasped for air and stumbled a little, still dizzy, as he maneuvered me out onto the second floor, his hand still around my wrist.

“Do you live alone?” he asked.

“Yes, erm , I mean, no, but nobody is home,” I stuttered, suddenly remembering my flatmate.

I had come to the capital city of Berlin a little over a year ago to start studying linguistics at the famous Humboldt University. It was a new subject that I had taken on—to my parents great displeasure—after a failed attempt at studying economics in my hometown of Heidelberg. I had been very lucky to find a wonderful apartment in Berlin—a task that is usually next to impossible.

After I failed my last exam in Heidelberg, Tim—a friend of a friend—had offered me a room at the apartment he owned in Berlin. He came from an old and wealthy family that had lived in the capital for many generations. Unlike me, he had just graduated from Heidelberg University and was about to move back home. And so, my decision had been made: I would not try to retake my test; instead, I would move to the exciting city up in the east and study something absurd that fit my interests but held no promises regarding a  future career. I was ecstatic—I would finally start living life on my own terms, see the world, discover new things and new cultures, travel, and live my own adventure.

Of course, just a few months after I had moved to the capital, the war started, and the adventures I had been looking for were replaced by strict rules and a curfew.

My captor gave me a stern look. “Will somebody come to this place tonight?”

“No, my roommate is away visiting his parents for the weekend,” I replied.

“Good. If you lie to me and somebody is in there or interrupts us, I will kill them,” he said calmly.

“What? Are you crazy? You’re not allowed to do that!”

The rules of the Treaty were clear and strict: A Veril was not allowed to keep the woman for longer than one night—from sundown to sunrise. He was not allowed to see her again afterwards, and he was not allowed to seriously injure—let alone kill—anybody in the process.

“You have no idea what I’m allowed to do, human, and I would advise you not to try and find out. You lie, they die.”

Was he trying to make up a fun catchphrase?

“What’s wrong with you? That’s not funny!”

“Do not lie to me, then,” he replied.

“I’m not lying!” I protested.

“Good, then you do not have to be afraid.”

“I am terrified of you!” I retorted in another unexpected outburst of honesty.

“You would be a fool not to be.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

As soon as the apartment door closed behind us, he let go of my wrist.

“Let us hope for your sake that nobody is here,” he hissed in my ear and pulled out his blade in one fluid motion.

What I had assumed was a sword was actually a scimitar. I stood frozen in place as my eyes caught on the curve of the deadly metal, and a terrible feeling of dread rose in my stomach. He had drawn it in case somebody was at the apartment after all, but something about the blade filled me with unease—even more so than the gun that was holstered on his belt. This was the weapon of a lethal warrior, and for some reason, I knew intrinsically that many humans had found their end by this blade.

When he had finished checking the apartment and it seemed like he was satisfied that we were indeed alone, he opened my bedroom door and made a brusque gesture, indicating that I should enter.

“We go to your room,” he ordered, and I was quick to obey.

“How do you know this is my room?” I asked, looking over my shoulder as I passed him.

“It smells like you,” he stated dryly.

“It smells?” Heat rose to my cheeks—for some ridiculous reason the demon had managed to make me feel embarrassed about my messiness.

He smiled down at me for the first time, flashing pointy canines. It was the first time I’d seen this expression on him, and it took my breath away. It was as if the sun had lit up his face. God, he was beautiful!

“Your room smells good , like you. Really good. Like a fertile woman ready to be bred.”

I felt my cheeks heat even more. He took one step closer and was now standing directly in front of me, his intense golden gaze locking with my hazel eyes.

Fuck it, I thought in an outburst of recklessness. He’s going to do whatever he wants with me anyways. I might as well try to enjoy it as long as I can .

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down a little, until our lips met again. If I had surprised him, it didn’t last long. He put his arm around my waist, pulling me closer, and slid his other hand under my skirt, digging his fingers into the thickness of my upper thigh and pulling my leg up to his waist.

The spaghetti-strapped top of my white sundress with yellow flowers fit snugly against my slim torso. I liked my small breasts, especially since they let me go braless whenever I wanted, and that was most of the time. My dress had a flowing skirt that I loved for the way it swayed around my generous hips when I walked. Whatever I lacked in the chest department, I made up for with my curvy hips, butt, and thighs.

My innocent little summer outfit made a strange contrast with his martial armor as we stood entangled in each other. The coarse fabric of his uniform scraped the soft flesh on the inside of my thigh, and at that moment, it was the best thing I had felt in my entire life. I wanted to melt into him. His tongue brushed my lips, and I stiffened.

Don’t open your mouth , I reminded myself and pulled back a little bit.

“What is it?” he asked, breathing heavily.

“Not with the tongue,” I said, knowing how ridiculous my demand was, given the circumstances.

He gave me a puzzled look.

“You do know what I am about to do with you, yes?” he asked slowly, as if he were starting to doubt my intelligence.

“I know.” I was still wrapped around him, my mouth only centimeters away from his.

“Then my tongue should be the least of your worries,” he pointed out reasonably.

His hot breath was caressing my lips, making my mouth water.

“I don’t want to lose my mind,” I whispered.

“Is that not ultimately the goal?” he smirked, his voice seductively low. “To lose ourselves in each other until we forget where you end and I begin?”

In the twilight of my room, I could see that his eyes had turned almost black, and the gold of his irises was just a small ring encircling his pupils.

“I heard that tasting your kind's tongue will make me go crazy, like getting drugged.”

“Again: do you know what I am about to do with you?”

“Yes,” I repeated.

Kind of… , I thought to myself, since I was, in reality, regrettably inexperienced in the sex department.

“Then tell me, human, what difference does my tongue make? I will be inside of you soon. I will fill you with my seed, yet you worry about a simple kiss?”

I tried to ignore the tingling sensation that his crude words had caused somewhere deep inside my core. “Will it make me go crazy?”

He paused before answering with a slight smile at the corners of his mouth and said, “Maybe a bit.”

“Will it be like getting drugged?” I insisted.

“Maybe a bit,” he repeated, his smile widening.

“Then I don’t want it.”

“You should consider it,” he reasoned, caressing my lips with his thumb. “It will make the rest easier.”

“Yeah, easier for you, because I won’t fight back.” I tried to turn my face away from his hand, but to no avail.

He breathed out a short laugh.

“No mishtz’in ,” his voice was dangerously soft. “Easier for you . I am a warrior, one of the most feared fighters of my kind. I have just fought and won a war against your nation, and you are nothing but a human woman who probably has not been in a physical fight in her entire life. Whether you are willing or not makes no difference to me. Whether you fight me or not makes no difference to me. You cannot stop me from doing whatever I wish with you. But why would you want to make it harder on yourself when a simple kiss could melt all your fears away? It would only make it more pleasurable for you.”

At his words, reality began to sink in again, making my earlier bravery slowly fade away. If I got pregnant by a Veril soldier, my life as I knew it—and my freedom—were over. It would turn me into a social outcast, likely force me to interrupt or leave my studies, and, in the end, the Veril would take away my child—I would never see it again. As I thought about it, this last part was what I dreaded most. Would I be able to get over a loss like that?

“Please,” I whispered. “I don’t want to do this.” I had not wanted to beg, but my resolve had run out.

“Are you sure you do not want this?” He brushed his lips just slightly over mine. The touch was enough to make me go soft in his arms, leaning into his kiss again, “Because your body is telling me otherwise.”

“I think you drugged me already.” I was breathing heavily.

“Believe me, human, if you had taken any of my venom, you would be aware of it.” A mischievous smile played around the corners of his mouth as he added, “You just like me a little bit more than you want to admit. If you wish, I will let you have a little taste so you can feel the difference.”

He was enjoying this, and, for some twisted reason, so was I. Right here in his strong arms, I wanted him more than I had ever wanted any man in my entire life, and my panties were dampening with wetness for him at the mere thought of the things he was describing.

“No!” I tried to untangle myself by pushing against the leather chestplate of his armor.

What was I even doing? We were not lovers, and, despite the fire that he had ignited in my core, I did not want him in my room, let alone my bed. He was a monster and a rapist, and he was about to destroy my life. He held me flush against himself for a little bit longer—just long enough to show me that he was in control—and then let go of me.

“Leave now, Veril.” I tried to give my voice a stern tone, but it came out more like a plea as I stepped away and opened the door to the corridor.

He moved, and for a moment I thought that he would actually go away. But all he did was push the door to my room closed again, making the handle slip out of my grasp. He did not look playful anymore; he only looked dangerous. And I realized that maybe I had made a mistake by rejecting him.

His voice, which had been soft and seductive before, shifted into something more menacing. “No, I will not go, mishtz’in . Not before I have fucked and bred you over and over, until you cannot walk for nights to come. Not before I have pumped your little body so full of my venom that the only coherent thought you can form will be my name.”

“I don’t even know your name,” I retorted, trying to sound more clever than I was, but my fear was making my voice shake.

“I will whisper it in your ear when I spill my seed inside of you,” he snarled.

He went to my solid wooden dresser and pushed it in front of the door as if it weighed nothing, trapping me in my own room. I had heard about the Veril's strength, but seeing it was something else entirely.

“What makes you so sure that I will get pregnant?” I made a desperate attempt to stall, “Some couples try for years until they conceive.”

He took his weapons belt off and hung it over the back of my chair, fixing me with his gaze. His eyes were all black now: the golden rings of his irises completely swallowed by his pupils.

“Do not worry, mishtz’in , and rest assured that I will put a child inside of you tonight. Human men’s unsurprising lack of virility has nothing to do with me.”

He was probably right; I had read the statistics stating that violations by the Veril indeed resulted in pregnancy at least eighty percent of the time.

He stepped in front of me and grabbed my hair again, crushing my lips with his. I tried to untangle myself and get away from him, but it was impossible. I was half expecting him to force his tongue into my mouth, but all he did was maneuver me towards my bed. When the back of my knees hit the frame, he shoved me. His force knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I lay on my crumpled sheets for a few seconds, gasping for air, until I finally caught my breath again.

The mattress shifted under his weight as he got onto the bed. It was at this moment that panic really struck me. I tried to get away as fast as possible, but before I could roll off the bed, his strong hand grabbed my ankle and pulled me back. He was on top of me now, and I was facing him. For a moment, his beautiful features were illuminated by the fleeting lights of a car passing by on the street outside. He looked calm, almost detached, as if my pathetic attempts at escape were boring him. And then, quicker than humanly possible, he grabbed my wrists and pinned them above my head.

I writhed underneath him, trying to land a kick, but my attempts were feeble against the combat-seasoned warrior. Without much effort, he managed to knee my legs apart, spreading my thighs open. He had me pinned in place now, making it impossible for me to move him off, no matter how much I tried to wriggle myself free. All my squirming achieved was grinding my lower body against him, which was pretty counterproductive to what I was trying to accomplish. My dress had ridden up to my waist, his hardness pressing against the thin fabric of my panties. I froze when I felt the enormous bulge.

His voice was low with arousal when he spoke, “Oh, do not stop now, mishtz’in ; your struggling feels too delicious.”

The sun had set completely, and the only light in my room was the yellow streaks the street lamps outside painted on the ceiling. In the twilight, it looked like his eyes had turned a solid black, the darkness filling them completely from one corner to the other. He now truly looked like the monster out of our collective nightmares.

“Get off me, demon!” I hissed.

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into his strange eyes.

“You want to call me a demon? It was your human men who gave you away for me to use, just because they wanted to save their dirty skins. But if you wish to deny the truth, then so be it. I shall happily play the demon for you!”

With that, he ripped my underwear as if the sturdy cotton were nothing but a piece of paper, leaving me exposed and spread open. When I heard him unfasten his pants, I realized that there was no way out of this anymore. He was going to fuck me and breed me, and all I could do was try to calm down and relax so I wouldn’t get hurt too badly. I couldn’t fight him, and I had already pissed him off too much. I didn't want to test my chances and make him even angrier by resisting. I breathed out shakily, trying to brace myself for what was coming, deeply regretting my inexperience, my uncertainty, and ever leaving the safety of my parents’ home.

He didn’t even bother to take off his clothes; he was going to fuck me while still wearing his uniform. I stiffened as I felt him against my sensitive flesh. The head of his bare cock spread my lower lips, slowly sliding up and down my wet slit, until he found my entrance and started to push in. I was slick with my own juices from my earlier arousal, but it still seemed impossible that he would be able to fit himself inside of me, yet he kept pressing without mercy. When the bulbous head of his cock slipped into me, the stretching pain made me scream… it felt like being ripped apart.

“Stop! You’re too big,” I begged.

He looked straight into my eyes, his gaze intense. “You belong to me tonight, and you will take everything I give you. I do not care how much you scream. You are mine, and I will do as I please with you.”

The burning ache that followed as he drove his length deeper into me was too much. I had heard that losing your virginity could actually be painless, that it didn’t even have to cause bleeding. Unfortunately, this was not the case for me. He broke me open as he took my flower, forcing me to take his thick cock deeper and deeper inside of me. I cried out as his tip bottomed out, hitting what must be my womb and sending a sharp jolt of unfamiliar pain through me.

“Poor little human,” he mocked, as he held still inside of me for a moment, “I am not even all in yet.”

He pulled my hand to where our bodies were joined, wrapping my fingers around the base of his massive cock. It felt hard and soft at the same time, and I guessed it to be as wide as my wrist, since I couldn’t even join my fingertips around it. He let out a deep breath of pleasure, delighted by my touch, sinking deeper into me, forcing my body to accommodate him while all I could do was concentrate on breathing in and out, my eyes fixed on him.

“Please, you’re hurting me,” I begged, desperately trying to dislodge his hardness from inside of me, pushing my hands against his leather chest plate, trying with all the force I could muster to shove him away.

“You are so sweet when you fight,” he breathed into my ear.

His voice was thick with arousal, and his hot breath against my skin made me shiver. The weight of him had me pinned to my mattress, completely at his mercy, with my legs spread wide by his massive body. He pushed in deeper, making me whimper in pain.

Lacking any other options to console myself, I held onto him, grabbing the leather straps of the armor on his back, pressing my head against his broad shoulders, and inhaling his scent. He pulled back slightly, only to grind the head of his cock even deeper into me with the added momentum. His breath was heavy against my ear, and I wailed. He kept repeating this small movement over and over, each time pushing a little bit further in, forcing my body to submit, molding me to his length, and making me sob at the sharp pain of his tip pressing against my cervix.

“It’s too much.” My plea was swallowed by his uniform as I kept clinging on to him, but he heard me nonetheless.

“Had I known how delicious it feels to have you cry underneath me, I would have taken you the first time I caught your scent,” he said, his voice hoarse and a little shaky.

With that, he thrust his remaining centimeters into me. I screamed against his shoulders as his heavy balls came to rest on my butt. And finally, he gave me a merciful reprieve, holding still so my body could adjust to the invasion of his inhuman size. My muscles shook; I was too full—he was too big, too much—his weight pressed me down, spreading me open and pinning me in place.

“You feel divine,” he breathed into my neck, his lips grazing my sweaty skin as he spoke, his voice tinged with husky pleasure. “Relax.”

Silent tears of pain rolled down my cheeks. His mouth found mine, caressing me gently, and I sought comfort in the softness of his lips, kissing back my attacker with increasing despair because there was nobody else to console me. His scent was all around me, and he smelled so incredibly good it was making me slightly dizzy. He was so deep inside of me, stretching me beyond my limits, connecting us in the most intimate way. Never had I been so close to anybody. I dug my hand into his short hair, pulling him down to me as I tried to escape the pain by leaning into the strange desire I felt for him.

And for some inexplicable reason, it kind of worked. Underneath the agony, a need was slowly growing in my core. A need to feel more of him, a need for friction between his formidable body and mine.

I tangled my fingers deeper into his dark strands and ran my tongue over his lower lip, my mouth watering at the taste. Ignoring the pain, I tentatively lifted my butt and ground my hips against his. It hurt, but my nerves trembled with pleasure. I repeated the movement, pushing up, carefully pressing his hardness into the depths of my vagina again and then again. A shiver ran through me, and I felt myself relaxing, giving in, while the ache slowly faded into the background.

A soft moan escaped my lips, and he chuckled. “Are you ready for me now, mishtz’in ?”

“Yes,” I breathed against his mouth.

"Good.” His black eyes were clouded with longing as he looked at me, but still he waited.

I pulled my left leg up his body, the fabric of his uniform scraping the soft flesh of my inner thigh, and hooked it around his waist. He let out a shaky breath as if he were losing himself, just like I was. Then he began to move, claiming me with each long, powerful stroke as his muscles tensed. I moaned, this time more from pleasure than pain, and started to meet his thrusts, making his bare hardness slide deep into me over and over. God, I wanted him—his strong body, his scent, his voice, his strangeness. He made me go all soft and pliable underneath him, responding to his every movement.

His cock was so wide, I could feel its every vein, making me painfully aware that we were not using protection, that there was no barrier between us, and that with every thrust, he was filling me, rubbing his potent precum into my womb. And my body loved it. I could practically feel myself opening up every time his tip kissed my cervix, readying me to be bred by him, readying me to receive his seed.

I was dripping wet, gasping for breath, and when he struck a bundle of nerves deep inside, my walls clenched around his girth, desperate to hold him in, to milk him for his essence.

He inhaled sharply and repeated his movement. I let out a soft ah , and when he groaned and did it again and then again, I felt the need in my core building until it became unbearable, until I feared I was going to explode. My movements grew more frantic as I tried to meet his thrusts. Desperate for release, I dug my nails into the bare skin of his neck and wrapped my legs around him, squeezing him, pulling him deeper and deeper over and over, until I finally came, clamping around him in an earth-shattering orgasm. He held still inside of me while I came undone around his hardness.

When the waves of my climax had subsided, I looked up at him incredulously, shaking and totally out of breath. This had not been my first orgasm, but it did not compare to any of the times I had pleasured myself. The closeness of his body and the inevitable connection it created, combined with the fact that he was the one who made me feel this way—the enemy, a nameless Veril soldier—was overwhelming.

“You…,” I breathed, lacking anything else to call him.

He was breathing hard, shaking a little, and I realized that it took all of his self-restraint to keep holding still. I cupped his face with my hands and kissed him, trying to convey my gratitude for what he had made me feel as I started to grind against him again, showing him without words that I was ready for more. He met me with strokes that were rougher, faster, and more urgent than before. And, to my astonishment, I felt the desire build again. How was that even possible? I should have been too spent for anything else after my last orgasm, but there was something about him—about us—that made me go utterly crazy.

Suddenly, my ever-rising high was interrupted, and I squealed as he grabbed my hips and pushed himself all the way inside, holding me pinned to him, unable to move. And then I felt it: the sharp pain of a sting, piercing the soft flesh of my vagina. I gasped in horror. For a moment, I had completely forgotten about the strange particularities of sex with the Veril. I had heard rumors that at the base of their cock, they possessed a stinger that could inject women with a venom similar to the one in their saliva, but stronger, preparing the body for impregnation. I had also heard that its effect was excruciatingly unpleasant and agonizing.

Panicking, I tried to pull away, but his painfully strong grasp on my hips held me in place.

“Hold still, mishtz’in , or you will truly hurt yourself.” He was breathing deeply, his eyes half closed in rapture. This was clearly pleasurable for him. “It is merely a little sting; you will feel very good soon.”

And he was right: After the initial shock, the pain was not too bad, but I could sense his venom creeping through in my veins now. It was an uncomfortable, scary feeling as it spread from my core through my body, legs, arms, and neck.

“Ah!” I exclaimed in surprise as it finally hit my brain.

The rumors had been wrong, and he had been right: It felt good—very good. It was like the room had lit up, and all of a sudden, I could see in the darkness. He gave me his beautiful, sharp-toothed smile as he looked down at me. The stinger had retracted to wherever it had come from.

“So, my sweet, how does my venom feel?” he asked while I was drowning in his eyes.

“Good.” I couldn’t say much more, but I guessed he knew already: It felt like being in love—with him, my captor. Like being in love and being in lust and also a little tipsy.

I pulled him down and kissed him, and he gave in to me. I wanted all of him. I pressed my body against his and opened my mouth to his tongue; any reservations I might have had before were thrown out of the window. 

I didn’t feel any venom on his tongue, but I was also fully high on him already and most likely unable to tell the difference. He was fucking me again, grinding deeply into me, and I was desperately meeting his movements. Our foreheads were pressed against each other, and his breathing became more and more strained. It was such an intimate position, almost as if we really were lovers. I was losing myself in him, even though the rational part of my brain was aware that these feelings were just a result of his venom coursing through my veins. I still couldn’t help myself.

His thrusts became more and more urgent. His cock, so unbearably deep, was leaking precum and rubbing it into my womb again and again. I knew he was about to come inside of me, and there was no more doubt in my mind that he would get me pregnant. It was like a transcendent certainty, born out of the immense connection I felt with him in that moment. As if there was no way a union this strong could not result in a child.

No! I thought, but I felt my body calling out to him, opening to him, pulling his essence deep into me.

And God, I wanted him so much. I wanted him to fill me; I wanted him to breed me; and even though the rational part of my brain kept screaming no , I wanted nothing more than the honor of carrying this strong warrior’s child.

“Please…,” I moaned, not sure if I was begging for him to stop or to continue.

“Please, what, my sweet?” he whispered.

I summoned the last bit of my rationality, “Please pull out.”

He chuckled and took me in a slow and particularly deep stroke that made me moan out in pleasure.

“Please don’t do this to me.”

He closed my mouth with a kiss, which I returned passionately, rolling my hips against him as my lips caressed his.

“Please, I don’t want to get pregnant," I pleaded breathlessly against his mouth.

“Oh, mishtz’in , my poor little human,” he replied, his deep voice hazy with desire. “But you are so ready for me. I can feel your body sucking me in, begging for me to gift you my seed. You were made for me, to be filled by me, and you will love it when I quicken your yearning womb with my essence, allowing you to fulfill your ultimate purpose of growing heavy with my child.”

My body reacted, tightening around him in agreement with his words, and I let out an agonized moan.

“Yes, that is what I thought,” he said, accelerating to a bruisingly strong pace.

Not able to speak an intelligible word, I sighed and moaned beneath him until he finally pushed all the way into me. The bulbous head of his cock pressed against my cervix as he erupted, spilling his hot seed into my womb.

No! My eyes sprang open.

His cock was twitching again and again, pumping me fuller and fuller with his fertile sperm. I made a feeble attempt to push against his hard chest, but then my body responded. It was as if his venom in my blood forced me into another orgasm. It hit me unprepared, and I cried out in surprise when my body contracted around his, pulling his seed deep, deep into me. My legs were wrapped around his waist, holding him tight. It was too late.

When the waves of our shared climax had calmed down, I loosened my grip on his armor, and he rolled off of me.