Julian’s heart teared up but he smiled through it. A happy, bright smile.

"I love you too, Lucien."

Alaric leaned back over Julian, his chest pressing against Julian’s as he looked down, completely basking in the absolute glory of his lover’s pristine body.

​Alaric’s gaze then drifted past Julian’s shoulder toward the small wooden counter beside the bed, where a small, glass bottle of scented oil caught the faint reflection of the firelight.

He reached out one long arm, his fingers wrapping around the smooth glass. This would act as lubricant to help stretch Julian up.

The cool glass of the bottle clicked softly against Alaric’s palm as he lifted it from the counter. He popped the stopper with his thumb, the subtle, clean scent of crushed mountain herbs instantly spilling into the warm air between them, mingling with the familiar smell of woodsmoke from the fireplace.

​Julian watched through a heavy, drug-like haze of pure affection and exhaustion as Alaric poured a generous pool of the oil into his own hand.

The Duke set the bottle back down with a quiet thud, then rubbed his large palms together. The friction warmed the fluid, creating a slick slide of skin against skin before he ever touched Julian.

​"Relax for me," Alaric murmured, his voice dropping into that low, textured growl that always seemed to vibrate straight through Julian’s chest.

​He didn’t rush. He knew it had been more than a month since they had last been able to lose themselves in one another, and Julian’s body was still trembling from the residual adrenaline of the void.

Alaric’s large, slick hands first settled on Julian’s hip bones, tracing the elegant curves of his waist with a firm, grounding pressure. He smoothed the warm oil over Julian’s lower abdomen, his thumbs digging gently into the tight muscles there, deliberately forcing the scholar to melt completely into the mattress.

​Julian let out a long, ragged sigh, his head rolling back into the pillows as the warm friction began to unravel the last of his tension. "Lucien..." He gasped out.

​"I’ve got you," Alaric whispered, his sharp blue eyes locked onto Julian’s face, tracking every twitch of his lips, every flutter of his dark eyelashes.

​Slowly, deliberately, Alaric shifted his position, lifting one of Julian’s legs to rest over his massive shoulder. The position was deeply intimate, exposing Julian fully to the warm firelight and his lover’s intense gaze.

With a low hum of approval, Alaric dipped his oiled fingers down, his touch light and teasing at first as he brushed against the sensitive skin of Julian’s inner thighs, making him shiver.

​When the first warm, slick finger pressed gently against his entrance, Julian’s breath caught in his throat. His fingers automatically dug into the heavy bedsheets, his knuckles turning white.

His hole was tight—a physical testament to the weeks of agonizing distance between them—but the heat of the oil and the sheer, unyielding patience of Alaric’s touch began to work its magic.

​Alaric closed his eyes for a brief second, gritting his teeth as his own restraint was pushed to the absolute limit.

He wanted nothing more than to claim Julian instantly, to execute the powerful siege Julian had asked for, but his love was too absolute to rush.

He added a second finger, then a third, his hand moving in a slow, deep, stretching rhythm that coaxed Julian’s pliant body to open up, inch by painstaking inch.

​Julian began to arch his back, a soft, broken whimper escaping his lips as the stretching turned into a deep, heavy ache of anticipation.

His mind was entirely blank, stripped of gods, systems, and empires, focused completely on the thick, stretching fullness of the fingers swirling inside him.

​"Please, Lucien," Julian gasped out, his eyes opening, wide and glazed with a desperate, heavy longing as he stared up at the massive man hovering over him. "No more waiting. Please, give it to me."

​Alaric didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, the slick sound echoing sharply in the quiet room.

Then, he rubbed his hand over the tip of his throbbing cock with the remains of the oil, stroked it a bit while watching Julian’s panting form and then positioned the head against Julian’s prepared entrance, his other hand reaching down to firmly hold Julian’s hips against the mattress.

Carefully, he pushed the head in. Julian trembled and whimpered, feeling his hole stretch out even more than the fingers did. But he took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself and not tighten up.

The moment he noticed that Julian had eased around the head of his cock, Alaric drove the rest of his cock completely inside in a single, powerful surge, burying himself to the hilt.

​Julian’s eyes went wide, a sharp, breathless cry ripping from his throat as his body stretched even more to accommodate the massive, consuming fullness of the Duke’s cock.

It was exactly what he had begged for—a siege. Powerful, devastating, and entirely devouring. Alaric paused for a second, letting Julian’s tight walls lock around him, his chest heaving as he looked down at his partner with a fierce, possessive adoration.

​"You’re mine," Alaric growled, his voice thick with unbridled emotion as he began to plant kisses on Julian’s cheek, his chin, his eyes, sucking in the tears and finally his lips. "In this life, and every single one after it." He swirled their tongues together, his hand gripping Julian’s waist, grounding him, possessing him.

He had marked this man, both body and soul, so no god and no written scroll would ever take him away from him.

​Then, he began to move, feeling Julain’s walls let up. He pulled out slowly and then pounded inside forcefully, but his pull out was always so slow, so agonizing that it made Julian lose his mind.

Alaric thrust back in heavy, and punishingly deep. He slammed into Julian with a raw, primal intent, each thrust sending a violent jolt of pure pleasure straight up Julian’s spine.

Julian’s legs wrapped tightly around Alaric’s waist as the Duke set aside the slow pull out and grew faster, his heels digging into the muscles of the Duke’s back as he was violently tossed against the pillows, entirely consumed by the storm.

The Duke pinned his waist down, holding one leg up as he claimed his lover’s hole over and over, reminding Julian who it was that could and would always fill him up.

It brought tears to Julian’s eyes. Happy and pleasure tears as he took on his lover’s cock, his possessiveness and his siege.

He moaned, groaned, whimpered, all to the pleasure of his lover’s thrusts.

"Harder—Nhhaa! Fill me—Nngh—Lucien."

And so Alaric picked up the pace, slamming even harder and stirring his cock inside Julian, kissing his lips and leaving trails of love bites down his skin that was as white as a canvas.

Alaric drew his love on him, making sure that whoever gazed upon his body would see the mark of his obsession and the evidence of his siege.

He even left one high on his neck where his robe couldn’t cover. It was a warning to all those who coveted his man.

The room was filled with the heavy, frantic sounds of their collision—the slick friction of oiled skin, the deep, ragged groans of the Duke, and the high, unraveled cries of the scholar as they completely forgot the world existed outside their door and reunited with their bodies, hearts and souls.