Chapter 12

Twelve

T he abandoned estate sat perched on a low rise, over the lush valley of the Burning River below, and once it must have been a stately manor house, boasting countless rooms and wings and balconies from which to admire the view. The road that wound up to its entrance had long since been swallowed by encroaching wilderness, but the demon guardsmen led the way without hesitation, their steeds picking a sinuous path between the gnarled trees and overgrown brush.

Aric and Malekith rode side by side at the center of their small convoy, their expressions carefully neutral, but there was no chance for them to speak privately. The Sovereign's guards hemmed them in on all sides, their eyes watchful and weapons at the ready, a stark reminder of the precariousness of their position.

Not to mention the harsh and brutal reality of the power their captors still held over them, no matter the strange bond that had formed between Aric and Malekith. At a word from their sovereign, they could both be put to the sword—or worse. Aric had heard the stories of the demonic torture devices, the ones that didn't kill, the ones that kept their victims in a state of constant agony, and he knew that Malekith and his guardsmen were no less skilled in the art of war and death.

But the eerie silence that enveloped them all was an even greater torment. He would have taken Malekith's icy glares, Vizra's haughty taunts, Karthax's sadistic glee, or even Sylthris's cryptic warnings right then, rather than this void.

The whole march, Malekith had kept his gaze fixed forward, his expression veiled and distant, giving Aric no clue as to what was running through his mind. Aric wished desperately for even a fleeting glance, a touch of reassurance, but it was too much to hope for—none more so than to dare reach for Malekith's hand where it dangled by his thigh.

He held his own expression in a stony mask as they dismounted and made their way toward the manor entrance. The trials that awaited him at the Wrathgate would test him to his very limits, and there was no guarantee that he would emerge unscathed.

But it was a risk he had to take. For himself, for his people, and, most of all, for the fragile but stubborn bond that bound him inextricably to Malekith.

Aric's heart ached as he took in the grandeur that had once been the estate. The sweeping marble floors, the intricate mosaics that told the story of the borderlands settlemnts, the lush gardens that surrounded the villa, all of it spoke to a life of luxury and power. But it was the small details that tugged at Aric's memories, the things that spoke to the family that must have once called this place home. The well-worn path that led from the stables, where the children must have raced to greet their father after a long journey. The row of flowering bushes, carefully tended, that lined the terrace, surely a favorite of the lady of the house.

A name. What was their name?

The estate had been abandoned for some time, from the look of it, the grand furnishings covered in a thick layer of dust, the gardens gone wild from lack of care. Had it been this way since the end of the last war, the one that had claimed the rest of his family? Or had it been more recent, a casualty of the ongoing conflict? Aric tried not to dwell on the implications of either answer as they were shown to their rooms.

They were led through a maze of corridors, the guardsmen's boots ringing on the marble floors. The portrait that hung in the entryway of the house's lord and lady and children, their heads held high and proud. The suite of rooms that had once belonged to them, now stripped bare of any personal touches. The balcony that jutted out over the valley, offering a breathtaking view of the sunset, now tinged in too much red.

The Andriths , he remembered with a pang. That was their name.

He pushed the memories aside with a fierce scowl as they headed deeper into the estate. The guardsmen had cleared out the worst of the dust and cobwebs, but the air still held a stale, musty scent from years of disuse. The furnishings were sparse, but serviceable, and a banked fire in the hearth promised to chase away the chill. Aric's belongings had been brought up from the demon camp, his spare robes and a few other essentials carefully arranged on the bed.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lord?" the guardsman asked, his expression carefully blank.

Aric glanced at Malekith, who was surveying the room with a similar look of detachment. "It will do," he said, and the guardsman gave a quick bow before retreating, leaving them alone.

A heavy silence settled between them, and Aric's skin prickled with the sense of unease that had been haunting him since their arrival. He moved to the balcony doors and slid them open, the cool evening air washing over him. The valley was shrouded in darkness, the only light the twinkling of the stars overhead and the distant glow of the Burning River. The river that had once marked the boundary between the demon realm and the human, a barrier that had done little to stop the ravages of war.

"Aric." Malekith's voice was a soft, velvety caress, and Aric turned to find him watching him from the center of the room. "You're restless."

"I—" Aric hesitated, then crossed the room to join him. "I was just thinking. About the family that used to live here."

"You wonder what became of them." It wasn't a question. He reached out, his fingers grazing the bare skin of Aric's arm, and Aric shivered at the touch.

"Yes." Aric bit his lower lip. "It's not important."

"If it has you so restless, then it must be." Malekith's thumb traced over the inside of Aric's wrist, and he fought to suppress a shiver. "I understand the urge to wonder."

"I don't know what to expect from these trials." Aric's voice was thick with emotion, and he had to look away, out into the darkness of the valley. "I appreciate the opportunity, honest, but I?—"

"But it's not enough." Malekith's hand fell away, the loss of his touch like a physical ache. "It's not enough, if the cost is too high. If the path leads only to more suffering and death."

It sounded like Malekith was trying to convince himself, rather than Aric, but Aric didn't push the point.

"I wish I could have seen this town as you did," Malekith said. "Perhaps that world might come into being once again. A future that is not built on the bones of the dead."

Aric turned back to him, the moonlight casting his features in sharp relief. There was a fierce yearning in his eyes, a desire for something more that echoed Aric's own. He was so different from the cold, aloof demon prince Aric had first known, and that difference was what drew Aric to him, what made him believe, against all reason, that there might be a way for them to bridge the vast divide between their worlds.

"I want to believe you," Aric said, and he meant it, with all his heart. "But it won't be easy. You know that, don't you?"

"Nothing worth having ever is."

They stood like that for a long moment, the only sound the hushed rustle of their clothing and the distant cry of a twilight bird. Aric felt as if he were teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground shifting beneath his feet, but as long as Malekith was there to anchor him, he was unafraid.

"Come," Malekith said at last, his voice a low rumble. "Let's take a walk in the gardens. I have a feeling you could use the fresh air."

Aric smiled, grateful for the offer, and let Malekith lead him back through the corridors and out into the night.

The gardens were a shadow of what they must have been in their prime, the moonlight revealing the tangle of withered plants and overgrown pathways. Without the protective wards that once shielded the estate, the wilderness of the demon realm was quick to encroach, the trees stretching their gnarled limbs hungrily over the walls. But even in their neglected state, the gardens held a fragile beauty, and Aric felt a pang of regret that he'd been gone for so long.

Malekith led him through the overgrown paths, the crunch of dead leaves and brittle branches the only sound in the stillness. The guards maintained a watchful distance, but made no move to follow them as they wandered deeper into the gardens. Aric's gaze was drawn to the skeletal trees, their twisted limbs silhouetted against the starry sky, and he couldn't help but shiver.

"The demon realms are seeping in," Malekith said, as if reading his thoughts. "This is what happens to your lands when the protective wards fall, I suppose."

Malekith hesitated, then led Aric to a secluded corner of the gardens, a stone bench overlooking a moonlit fountain. The water had long since run dry, the basin caked with a layer of black mold, but it held a strange beauty, like a work of art in a modern gallery.

"I know you have not been afforded much opportunity to study our magic as you would like," Malekith said, voice low. "But if you are to have any hope of passing the trials, let alone surviving them, you must be willing to embrace all that is required of you. And that includes mastery of demon magic."

Aric's chest tightened at the thought. His research had taken him to the very edges of what was considered acceptable within the mage order, delving into forbidden tomes and ancient grimoires that spoke of unspeakable things. Malekith had allowed him to dig even deeper, but only in sparing doses before they fell too deeply under the Sovereign's watchful eye. But to actually practice those dark arts, to allow their taint to seep into his soul . . .

"I understand the risks," Malekith said. He was standing close to Aric now, close enough that Aric could feel the heat of his body, a comforting presence against the chilly night. "But I need your word. Your promise that you will not turn away from me in this."

Aric turned to him, and in the moonlight, Malekith's eyes were a bottomless black, a portal to a world of darkness and secrets. But there was something else there, too, something that shone with a fierce, yearning light.

"Anything," Aric said. "I'll do whatever it takes."

Malekith's expression softened, and he reached out, his hand coming to rest on Aric's chest, over his heart. "I don't deserve your faith in me," he said. "But I will spend the rest of my days earning it, if that is what it takes."

Aric's heart ached, and he didn't trust himself to speak. He didn't know how to explain to Malekith that the very thing that drew him to Malekith was also what terrified him. He had spent his whole life on the fringes, always looking in, never quite a part of the world he longed to know. And now, with Malekith, there was a chance, however small, that he could find a place for himself, a purpose that was more than just his duty to his people.

But that same pull threatened to consume him, to unravel everything he had ever known. But he was in too deep to turn back now. All he could do was trust that Malekith was right, that there was a path forward that didn't end in more bloodshed and betrayal.

"I'm here," Aric said, and the words felt like a vow, a binding oath. "I'm not going anywhere."

Malekith's eyes fluttered closed, and he exhaled slowly, as if he'd been holding his breath. With a soft, almost imperceptible sound, he drew Aric into his arms, and Aric went willingly, his own arms wrapping around Malekith's lean waist. He was so warm, so solid, and Aric let himself melt against him, wanting to forget, if only for a little while.

Malekith's lips brushed against the crown of Aric's head, a gentle, reverent touch. "Thank you," he said, and Aric felt the words resonate through him, down to his very bones.

Then Malekith took a step back. With a soft incantation in the demon tongue, Malekith cast a spell, and the air around them seemed to shift, to thicken and coalesce. Aric's breath caught in his throat as he felt the magic-restricting sigils on the bindings around his wrists loosen, just slightly, just enough to permit a trickle of power to seep into him.

And then power rushed through him, a heady, intoxicating rush. It was like coming up for air after being submerged in darkness, like the first rays of dawn after a long night. He felt the magic singing in his blood, and for a moment, it was all he could hear, a wild, exultant cry.

Malekith's eyes widened, a slow, satisfied smile curving his lips. "There you are," he said, something like awe tinging his tone. "I will never tire of that look on your face. The way you shine when you're in your element. It's . . . intoxicating."

The heat washing over Aric's face had nothing to do with the flames.

"Show me your fire," Malekith said, raw hunger in his voice. "Let it burn in you."

Aric closed his eyes, and in his mind's eye, he saw the golden flames, felt their heat. With a whispered incantation, he drew on his magic, letting it build and swell within him. The power rushed through his veins, a molten river, and he shaped it, honed it, until it was a white-hot point of light.

Malekith's hands were on his shoulders, and the heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of Aric's tunic. Aric's skin felt feverish, too sensitive, too alive. He was hyperaware of every point of contact between them, of the press of Malekith's chest against his back, of the soft puffs of his breath in Aric's hair.

"Good," Malekith said, his voice a low, sultry rumble. "Now, let me show you how to weave that fire into your shadow."

Aric nodded, his throat too tight for words, and Malekith's hands slid down his arms, tracing the lines of Aric's muscles. A shiver ran through him, and Malekith's lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. Aric's heart was pounding, and he was sure Malekith felt it, the frantic rhythm of his pulse.

"Shadows are not just absence of light," Malekith said, his breath hot against Aric's ear. "They are a living thing, a place of power and potential. You have only to reach out and claim it as your own."

Aric nodded again, his mind a hazy blur, and let Malekith guide him through the steps. As he wove the fire of his magic into the shadow that danced at his feet, he felt something shift within him, a fundamental reordering. The power was heady, intoxicating, and he understood, for a fleeting moment, the pull it held for Malekith.

"Focus," Malekith said. "Feel the shadows around you, the potential they carry. You need only reach out and seize it. Command it."

Aric nodded, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and tried to do as Malekith said. But the power was wild, untamed, and it danced out of his grasp, writhing like it had come alive. He felt the darkness seeping into him, a cold, hungry presence, and he was afraid he would lose himself to it.

"Easy," Malekith said, and Aric felt his hands on Aric's hips, his thumbs brushing against the jut of Aric's pelvis. "You are in control. You command the shadows, not the other way around."

Aric nodded, his eyes squeezed shut, and forced himself to breathe. With a mental effort, he shaped the darkness, coaxing it to stillness. The shadows coiled around his outstretched hand, a living glove, and he felt a thrill of triumph.

"That's it," Malekith said. "Now, hold on to it. Let it flow through you."

Aric's eyes flew open, and he saw the shadowy appendage he'd conjured, the edges of it seeping and shifting. With a low incantation, he directed the shadow toward a nearby tree, focusing on the mental image of the bark. The shadowy tendril lashed out, and the tree's bark peeled away in a shower of black scales.

Malekith's grip on Aric's hips tightened, and he let out a soft, pleased sound. "Excellent. You learn quickly."

Aric's face flushed at the praise, and he let the shadow dissipate, the darkness retreating back into the night. Malekith's hands were still on him, and Aric felt a jolt of awareness run through him at the heat of Malekith's palms, the press of his fingers against Aric's skin.

"Thank you," Aric said, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. "Your guidance . . . it makes all the difference."

He turned to face Malekith, and for a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other, the air between them charged. The heat of Malekith's body radiated from him, a living flame, and he was drawn to it, unable to look away. He wanted to lose himself in that heat, to burn away everything that stood between them.

"Perhaps we should continue," Malekith said. "Let's see if you can manage that trick while you're moving."

Aric's lips twitched with a smile. "You're assuming I can keep up with you."

Malekith laughed, a rich, velvety sound. "You're doing just fine, my love."

They began to circle each other in the center of the courtyard, weaving intricate patterns with their shadows as they moved. Malekith's movements were sinuous, almost serpentine, and Aric found himself mesmerized by the play of moonlight on his skin. He tried to focus on his own magic, on the way the shadows clung to him like a second skin, but it was hard to tear his eyes away from Malekith.

"You're not paying attention," Malekith said, and Aric yelped as a tendril of shadow darted out to flick his ear.

Aric's laugh was breathless as he raised his hands in surrender. "I never said I was a master of shadow magic."

"You're a quick study, at least." Malekith's smile was radiant as he drew closer to Aric, his shadow melding with Aric's own. "And you already have a mastery of fire that I can only envy."

Aric's breath caught as Malekith's face came into the light, his eyes glowing with an intensity that took Aric's breath away. He reached up to trace the curve of Malekith's jaw, and Malekith's breath hitched.

"Maybe we can teach each other a few things, then."

Their shadows twined together, a dark, shifting mass, and Malekith's smile was a promise.

Malekith guided Aric through the more advanced techniques of shadow-weaving, showing him how to create illusions, manipulate the shadows of others, and even transport himself short distances through the umbral pathways he crafted. The power was heady and intoxicating, but Malekith was always there, a steady hand at Aric's back, guiding him, grounding him. And when Aric grew frustrated, when the power slipped out of his control, Malekith would draw him into his embrace, his warmth a balm against Aric's cold, and whisper words of reassurance and praise until Aric's heartbeat slowed, and the shadows around them dissipated.

But there were darker spells, too, that Malekith showed him, ones that made Aric's skin prickle and his instincts scream at him to run. Spells that harnessed the void, spells from the demonic realm, and twisted it to Malekith's will. Aric watched, both horrified and fascinated, as Malekith summoned shadowy claws that tore through stone, and a miasma that ate away at the very air. Malekith's eyes gleamed with a fierce light as he demonstrated the spells, but there was a weariness in his movements, a strain that Aric couldn't ignore.

"You must always be in control of the power," Malekith said. "Never let it control you. It is a treacherous tune we follow, dancing on the edge of the void. But with the right guidance, the right discipline, you can harness that power, shape it to your will."

And Aric tried, he really did. He wanted to make Malekith proud, to show him that he was worthy of the trust and the secrets that Malekith had shared with him. But the darkness was a slippery thing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite get a grip on it. It eluded him, taunting him with its potential, and Aric felt a surge of frustration that he couldn't name.

"Aric," Malekith said, and his hand was on Aric's arm, a grounding weight. "You're letting your emotions get the better of you. You must be calm, centered. The void will reflect whatever you bring to it. If you let it consume you, then that is what it will do."

Aric was finding it hard to breathe, the weight of his own doubts pressing down on him. "I'm trying," he said, and he hated the way his voice wavered, the way he sounded like a frightened boy.

"You don't have to be perfect," Malekith said, and there was a tenderness in his voice that made Aric's throat ache. "I know this is all new to you, but you're doing so well. You have a natural talent for it, a way of weaving magic that I've never seen before. But you must trust in yourself. In the power that lies within you."

Aric closed his eyes, and let out a slow, shuddering breath. Malekith was right. He had to believe that he could do this, that he could control the darkness. For Malekith. For the both of them.

"Then show me," Malekith said, a challenge in his voice. "Show me that you can control the darkness, that you can bend it to your will."

Aric nodded, his jaw set, and closed his eyes. He drew on his magic, the golden fire that burned within him, and let it flow out, a river of light in the darkness. With a soft murmur of power, he shaped the shadows, coaxing them to his side. The darkness resonated with the power of his fire, a strange harmony that sent a shiver down his spine.

"Yes," Malekith said. "Let them dance together, the flames and the shadows. Let them weave a new kind of magic."

Aric's breath stuttered, the power of it all threatening to overwhelm him. But he focused on the spell, on the way the shadows obeyed his command, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent them lashing out toward a row of stone pillars. The stone crumbled under the force of the blow, and Aric jolted with a triumphant cry.

"Excellent," Malekith said, and when Aric opened his eyes, there was a fierce pride in the demon's gaze. "You are a natural, my love."

As night fell, they retired to the great bedroom of the villa, the opulent surroundings a stark contrast to the tension that still lingered between them. Malekith had offered to let Aric take the grand bed, but Aric had refused, and so they both lay on a thick carpet of furs and brocaded pillows, the scent of incense and Malekith's dark, smoky perfume hanging in the air.

"I'm sorry," Aric said, after a long silence, his voice barely more than a whisper in the dimness. "I know I disappointed you, with my lack of control."

Malekith turned to look at him, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "You have nothing to apologize for. I know this is all new to you, and the power of the void can be . . . intoxicating. But you must remember what I said. You are in control of the shadows. They are not in control of you."

Aric nodded, but he couldn't shake the unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach. "And the other spells you showed me. They were . . ."

"Disturbing," Malekith said, with a sigh. "I know. But you must understand, the void is not inherently evil. It is a source of power, like any other, and it can be used for good as well as ill. It is all in how you wield it."

"I want to believe that," Aric said. "But I also saw the strain it put on you. The way it twisted your magic, and the toll it took on your body. Is it worth it, to risk so much for that kind of power?"

Malekith tucked a lock of hair behind Aric's ear. "I would be a hypocrite to claim that the lure of the void has never tempted me. But you are right. The cost is too high. For me, and for those around me. I would not see you fall into the same trap, my love."

Aric covered Malekith's hand with his own, the touch a soothing balm. "Then what is the point of it all? Why risk so much, for something that you yourself do not fully trust?"

"Mm. I have spent my life fighting a war that I no longer believe in. But it is all I have ever known. To turn my back on the path that has brought me to this point . . . it is a terrifying prospect. And yet, when I am with you, I can see another way. A future that does not have to be defined by bloodshed and betrayal. I only wish I had the courage to reach for it."

"It is a hard thing, to turn from the path that has defined you," Aric said, his voice gentle. "But you do not have to face it alone. I will stand by your side, no matter where this journey takes us."

Malekith's gaze softened, and he brought Aric's hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "You have already given me more than I ever dared to hope for. To have your trust, your compassion . . . it is a gift beyond measure."

Aric's heart swelled, and he shifted closer to Malekith, their bodies fitting together in the darkness. "It is not a gift. It is what you deserve." He hesitated, his words fragile in the stillness of the night. "I care for you, Malekith. More than I ever thought possible."

Malekith's arms came around him, drawing him into a warm embrace. "And I for you, my love." He kissed the top of Aric's head. "More than words can ever say."

Aric closed his eyes, letting himself be enveloped by Malekith's scent, his warmth. In this moment, there was only the two of them, alone in the darkness, and Aric felt a sense of peace that he never wanted to let go of. He wanted to stay like this forever, wrapped in Malekith's arms, his heart entwined with the demon's.

"Malekith," he said, his voice muffled against the soft fabric of Malekith's tunic. "I . . . I want to know everything about you. Your past, your present . . . your hopes for the future. I want to understand the man you are, the man you wish to be."

Malekith was silent for a long time, and Aric thought he might have overstepped. But then the demon's fingers were carding through his hair, a soothing caress.

"I would like that, my love. But there are . . . things you must understand. Secrets that I have kept, for both our sakes."

Aric nodded, his heart aching with the desire to know Malekith completely. "I trust you. And I will keep your secrets, as you have kept mine."

Malekith's arms tightened around him, lips pressing against his hair.

"You already know more of my past than most. But there is one thing I have not yet explained. The mark that I left on you, the sigil that bound us together." Malekith's voice was a low murmur, a vibration that sank deep into Aric's bones. "It is a . . . magical link, of sorts. It allows me to . . . to send messages to you, to appear in your dreams and share my thoughts with you. But be warned, my love. It is a two-way bond, and if you are not careful, your own thoughts and dreams may be laid bare to me as well."

Aric shivered, the implications of that sinking in. "I had no idea."

"I did not tell you at first, for fear that you might reject it. But it is a part of the bond between us, and you deserve to know all that it entails."

"I . . . I don't mind. The thought of you with me, even in my dreams . . . it is a comfort, not a burden."

"Good. But know that you cannot respond to me, not without risking interception. It is a safeguard, to prevent any from exploiting it against us."

"Understood." Aric laced his fingers through Malekith's, holding on tight. "I don't need to respond. I only need to know that you're there."

A soft, pleased sound rumbled in Malekith's chest, and he drew Aric up to meet his lips. Their kiss was a slow, sweet exploration, the taste of it a balm to Aric's fears. Malekith's mouth was soft and warm, and he kissed Aric like he was something precious, something to be savored. Aric's heart swelled at the thought, and he clung to Malekith, losing himself in the demon's embrace.

Malekith's hands were gentle as they roamed over Aric's body, the touch of them leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Aric shivered, his skin prickling with a mix of nerves and anticipation. He had never felt so exposed, so raw and vulnerable. But with Malekith, it was a different kind of vulnerability, a sense of being cared for, cherished even in his most fragile moments. He trusted Malekith with every fiber of his being, and he knew that the demon would never hurt him, never take more than Aric was willing to give.

And yet, the intensity of his feelings for Malekith still frightened him. It was a kind of longing that went bone-deep, a sense of completion that he had never known he was missing. He wanted to lose himself in Malekith, in his darkness and his light, to be consumed by the fire of the demon's passion. But he was afraid of what he might find in that darkness, of what he might lose of himself in the process.

But Malekith had promised to stand by his side, and Aric believed in that promise with all his heart. He was willing to take the risk, to step into the unknown, if it meant he could be with Malekith, even for a little while.

Aric stood before Malekith, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never been so open, so exposed, but there was no one in all the realms he would trust to be so vulnerable with. The demon's eyes burned with desire as he looked at Aric, and a shiver of anticipation ran through him.

"I want you to know, Malekith," Aric said, his voice steady and sure, "that I trust you. I want you to take care of me, to be rough with me if that's what you need."

Malekith's eyes darkened with pleasure, and he smiled, a slow, wicked smile that made Aric's blood race. "I will take proper care of you, my love," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "You have my word."

With swift, efficient movements, Malekith stripped Aric naked, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. Aric shivered, both from the cool air and the heat in Malekith's gaze. The demon took Aric's tunic and bound his wrists together with it, securing them tightly behind his back.

Aric's breath came fast as Malekith bent him over a bench, his bare skin pressed against the smooth wood. He could feel the cool air on his exposed backside, and he shivered again, anticipation coursing through him.

Malekith's hand landed on Aric's ass with a resounding smack, the sound echoing through the room. Aric gasped, the sting spreading through him like wildfire. But it was a good pain, a pain that made him feel alive and desired.

With every strike, Malekith's claws dragged across Aric's skin, sweeter than any poison, any blade. Aric moaned, the pain mixing with pleasure in a heady cocktail that left him reeling. Heat built frantically inside him, the pressure mounting with every smack.

"Do you like that?" Malekith growled in Aric's ear, his voice thick with desire. "You like it when I mark you, when I make you mine?"

"Yes," Aric gasped, his voice ragged with need. "Please don't stop."

Malekith chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down Aric's spine. "I won't stop," he promised. "Not until you're begging for release."

Aric's world narrowed down to the burning sensation in his backside and the pressure building within him. The pain was clarifying, almost euphoric, and he felt as if he were floating outside of himself. With each smack, he grew more desperate, more needy, until he found himself begging Malekith for release.

"Please. Fuck me. I need you inside me."

Malekith chuckled darkly, clearly pleased by Aric's desperation. His fingers trailed down Aric's crack, teasing at his asshole before finally pushing inside. Aric cried out, his body clenching around Malekith's fingers as they breached his entrance.

With one fist tangled in Aric's hair and the other steadying his hip, Malekith positioned himself at Aric's entrance and began to push inside. Aric gasped, his body stretching to accommodate Malekith's girth. The sensation was overwhelming, both painful and pleasurable at the same time. He felt like he was being split open, consumed by Malekith's fire.

As Malekith began to move, thrusting in and out of Aric with increasing speed, the pain gave way to pleasure. Aric moaned, his hips rocking back to meet each of Malekith's thrusts. The demon's claws dug into his skin, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of this moment for days to come.

"Like this, my sunlight? When I fuck you hard, leave no room in your thoughts for anything else?"

"Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Malekith laughed, the sound harsh and exhilarating. He grasped Aric's bound wrists with one hand, pulling them tight as he continued to pound into him relentlessly. Aric cried out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through him. He was trapped between the pain of Malekith's claws and the pleasure of his thrusts, caught in a whirlwind of sensation that threatened to consume him entirely.

And yet, he didn't want it to end. He ached to stay in this moment forever, suspended between pain and pleasure, lost in the fire of Malekith's passion. As his orgasm approached, pressure building within him, threatening to break free and consume him in a wave of ecstasy.

With a final cry, Aric came undone, his release spilling onto the floor beneath him as Malekith continued to thrust into him mercilessly. The demon's own climax was close behind, and he roared with pleasure as he emptied himself inside Aric, marking him as truly his own.

Malekith's lips trailed along the bloody scars he had raked across Aric's back, his kisses alternating between tenderness and hunger. With a gentleness that belied his earlier ferocity, he carefully untied Aric's wrists and lifted him into his arms, cradling him as if he were made of glass.

As he carried Aric to the bed, Malekith continued to shower him with kisses and soft murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to the fiery passion that had just consumed them both. Aric felt his body relaxing, the tension draining away as he surrendered to the comforting embrace of his lover.

The demon laid Aric down on the soft sheets, his gaze lingering on the marks he had left on Aric's skin. There was a hint of pride in his eyes, but also a deep sense of satisfaction, as if he had claimed something precious and irreplaceable.

Aric reached out to touch Malekith's face, his fingers tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jaw. "I love you," he breathed.

Malekith's eyes darkened, and he leaned in to capture Aric's lips in a searing kiss. "And I love you," he murmured against Aric's mouth. "More than life itself."

As the first light of dawn began to creep through the cracks in the curtains, Malekith reluctantly rewove the restrictive sigils that would dampen his magical connection once more. The loss of that connection was painful for Aric, like a part of him was being ripped away, but he understood the necessity. They were still in danger, and they needed to remain hidden until they reached the Wrathforge.

"I'm sorry," Malekith murmured as he finished applying the last sigil. "I wish things could be different."

Aric nodded, unable to find his voice. The weight of the sigils felt heavier than ever, a constant reminder of the sacrifices they had to make in order to survive.

Malekith cupped Aric's face in his hands, trailing along Aric's jaw with a tenderness that belied his fearsome appearance. "We will break these bindings for good," he promised. "I swear it."

Aric managed a weak smile, drawing strength from Malekith's words. "I know we will."