Don’t Teach an Eagle to Fly – 10. chapter

First time here? Start with Chapter 1.

He returned to her the next evening. Not as a soldier, but as something even more dangerous. He did not hurry. He bound her standing with the same thoroughness and intimacy as before. Firmly, but not cruelly. As if he were not imprisoning her, but protecting her from what she might do if left alone with herself.

Then he caressed her. For long minutes. He worked the oil into her skin as if committing her to memory. Every touch was precise, slow, patient. He did not ask.

“Leave me alone, Kaelan!” she snapped when she could no longer bear the way he was forcing pleasure on her body, pleasure it had never asked of him.

He drew back just enough to look into her eyes.

“Kaelan?” He failed to hide his amusement. “Would you not rather call me Your Majesty?”

“No!” she replied unequivocally.

He smiled and slid his hands up to catch her forearms above her head.

“Do you truly believe you are my equal?” His stern gaze pierced her. He looked down at her face, his entire body making it clear that he ruled her.

“You can do whatever you want to me. But you cannot force me to do what I will not,” she said, refusing to yield.

A faint smile lit his face, as if she had promised him pleasure yet to come.

“We shall see.”

He poured another measure of oil into his palm and placed that palm directly on the hair between her thighs.

“No!” she cried out.

“Easy, princess.” He leaned close to her ear. “I am not hurting you. Not yet.”

She tried to break free, so he placed his palm against the small of her back from behind and pressed her against himself. The fingers of his other hand pressed into her pubic hair.

“No!” she repeated.

Uselessly.

Her body began to respond. She felt heat spreading inside her, felt her hips straining against his hand even as her mind still screamed. Tension vibrated through her, every touch setting her aflame and at the same time provoking her defiance. Her breathing remained harsh and uneven, but her cries grew weaker. Kaelan moved deeper between her delicate folds. He teased her with slow, circular motions until she began to tremble.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asked gently.

That snapped her out of it.

“That is none of your concern!” she shouted, her voice hostile.

He could not tell from her reaction whether the answer was yes or no. He seized her hips and pressed her hard against himself so she could feel his hard dick.

“Say you do not want me,” he whispered. “Just say it… and I will not take you.”

“I do not want you!” she growled.

He nodded slowly. He gripped her hair firmly so she could not turn her head and pressed his lips to hers. He felt a jerk in his hand as she tried to resist anyway. Futile. But then he released her himself, untied her, secured her again to the long chain in the wall, and left.

The next day she knew he would return. She knew it the way one knows the sun will set even beneath a clouded sky. She sat on the mattress with her back to the wall, pulling the blanket up to her chin. Not because of the cold. Because it gave her the feeling that she could still cover at least something.

She thought of what he had done. Of what had been happening to her between her thighs. Without her will. Without her consent. And yet… with her body. Her skin remembered him better than her reason ever could. She fought. With every thought, every memory of her land, of her father, of the battle in which she had been captured.

This is the enemy. The one who wants to break her. The one she has to defend herself against, not think about. Not wait for his breath. She was beginning to be afraid. Not of his cruelty, but of his gentleness. She was afraid that one day she would not refuse him.

And just then, the door to her cell opened.

He entered as always. Slowly. Without a word. Certainty in his gaze. Nirella did not move. She only clutched the blanket tighter. Every cell of her body protested and prepared at once. Her skin was already preparing to burn again beneath his touch before it had even felt it. She knew what would come. He would bind her again. Touch her again. And her body… her body would answer him again. She did not want that. She did not want to feel it. Not with him. Not with the enemy.

Kaelan said nothing. He stopped beside her, bent to the mattress, and reached out. He did not take the blanket from her by force. He only took hold of it and waited. A moment. A long second. Until she allowed him to pull it down. Slowly. Not because she wished it. But because she knew she could not resist him anyway.

With a small flask in his hands, he knelt between her thighs so she could not draw them together. He poured oil into his palms. Its scent was soft, herbal. Without a word he began to stroke her inner thighs. Slow, gentle movements. He did not touch her there yet. Not at once. But every touch was a challenge. Every one a promise. And Nirella trembled. Not from resistance or anger. But from desire she did not want to feel.

His hands moved higher. Gentle fingers slid under her belly and then straight to her folds, without hesitation. This time she could not even protest. She only breathed. Too fast. Too shallow. His touches were precise. Practiced. She gripped the sheet beneath her with her fingers. She did not resist him or turn away. She closed her eyes. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the cloth. And Kaelan continued.

He tried to appear detached, but he was burning inside. His dick had made it clear for more than half the day already that he wanted her tonight. She did not want to yield. But her body did it for her. He did not quicken his pace. He did not force the pace. Every movement was exactly what she needed, though she would never speak it aloud. A sigh slipped from her lips without permission, without defense. It startled her. And he heard it. He did not smile. He did not need to.

He raised himself onto his knees, pulled his clothing down below his buttocks, and lay over her. She wanted to cry out, but the words failed her in her throat. Instead, she pressed her lips together and held her breath.

“Say you do not want me,” he whispered into her ear. Gently, though his own breath was ragged now.

She opened her eyes and drew a ragged breath.

“I do not want you.”

He nodded. Slightly disappointed. He kissed her, then rose, dressed, and left. She felt like crying.

The next day she spoke as soon as the door closed behind him.

“I do not want you!”

So he would stop doing what he was doing to her. So he would not even begin. She was saying it plainly, was she not?

He smiled.

“I am not asking yet.”

First I will make you wet. I will take this fighting spirit from you. Only then, aching with desire, will you be able to refuse me. One day you will give in. I promise.

She managed it. She said she did not want him. The next evening too. And the one after that, consumed by heat and the need of her own body, with him naked between her thighs, she heard again:

“Say you do not want me.”

She opened her mouth. Her breath caught in her throat. Her body pulsed, arched with want, her lower belly tight, a fine tremor vibrating through her thighs. She wanted to say it. The words were ready. But no sound came. She knew that if she spoke, Kaelan would rise and leave. And what was happening would end. Again. And she did not want it to end anymore. She wanted more… For him to continue…

She stayed silent. For a long time.

He bent gently and kissed the side of her neck. Then he waited a moment longer. Not from habit, but to give her one last chance. She did not take it.

When he began to enter her, he did not know what to expect. She was narrow. Very. Definitely too narrow for the number of days she had managed to refuse him while he was hard and aroused. But she was wet and hot, and he knew it was not her body defending itself. She bit her lip.

“Easy, princess,” he whispered gently. “I am not doing anything bad to you,” he tried to soothe her as he slowly pushed in. She did not resist. She only adjusted to him.

Kaelan barely registered his victory. He only watched and guarded her heated body. He moved within her slowly, with almost ritual focus. Her body was taut, tight and hot around him each time he sank into her. Nirella breathed in short, ragged breaths, eyes closed, her brow damp. Every movement inside her was like a blow to her will. Soft. Quiet. Yet relentless.

She did not want to embrace him. And yet her thighs sometimes tightened, as if they did not want to let him go. Her hands were clenched into fists, but she said nothing. When he lifted her and wrapped an arm around her lower back to sink deeper, she gasped. Her body arched, her breasts pressing against his chest. And then she moved as well. Not sharply. Not like a lover. Like someone who could no longer hide.

Kaelan noticed the change. He stilled and rested his forehead against her temple.

“I hear you, princess,” he whispered. “Even when you say nothing.”

Then he continued within her. Not like a conqueror, but like a man who knows he has been given something rare. Nirella’s body began to ask for more, and he obliged, quickening his rhythm. Each of his movements sank into her deeper, more precisely, more rhythmically. His hands supported her, his hips moved firmly but not brutally. She gasped, her head falling back, her hips tightening without thought. Her orgasm took her hard and unprepared. Her muscles clenched, her breasts shuddered against his chest, and she let out a soft cry. Her body shook and he held her firmly, with a certain protectiveness.

He did not stop. Not at once. He gripped her hips, pressed his forehead to her shoulder, and drove faster. Every stroke was now driven by desire, by depth, by the need to spill himself into that finally conquered territory. As the final mark. Of victory. He breathed against her neck, held her closer, and at last growled, gripped her hips even tighter, and came inside her.