The following chapter contains explicit sexual content that is non-consensual in nature and intended for mature readers only. Please use your own discretion. If there are any questions about content, please feel free to PM us <3

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Esra could feel the heavy presence of the knight behind him, hear his breathing. He kept his gaze fixed on the shuttered window, afraid to turn around and look.

Not that he could.

Umbra slid close to him, heat and muscle. One hand, immovable, went to the nape of Esra’s neck to hold him in place. The other ran possessively down the slender line of his form to knead at his backside, as if testing the quality of his flesh.

It was the first time anyone had ever laid a hand upon his bare skin, and his entire body seemed to awaken at the sensation.

The intimate contact narrowed his focus, until the room faded, the candles blurred, and all he could sense was the bedsheets beneath him, and every heated point of contact he had with the knight. His side pressed to Umbra’s chest, the palm hot and strong over his neck, and another stroking over him. The size of his hands stunned Esra - bigger than any mortal man’s - and the way they gripped him, squeezing at his flesh, had his breath heaving.

It seemed terrifyingly wrong, especially in a place so private and forbidden. There was an urgency to this examination, something dark barely held back. Esra’s heart and breath both quickened, and an involuntary shudder rolled down his spine, making him shift his shoulders, try to rise.

The forceful hand at his neck stilled him in silent rebuke. It bit at Esra’s soul to be treated so, not even worthy of a ‘lie still’ and instead simply restrained, like one might scruff a misbehaving animal that balked at necessary handling. But he let himself be arranged beneath the knight, screwing his eyes shut, his breath coming out in frightened gasps.

He tried to imagine he was somewhere else as the knight rolled him onto his stomach, but couldn’t block out the sensation of those solid hands lifting him to his knees, so easily, like he was a weightless doll. Once again he could feel the knight’s attention rake over him and, thinking about what he must see, Esra immediately hid his face as if that would spare him the embarrassment of being so exposed.

Although he’d had an idea of what the soldiers wanted from him, what the knight meant to take from him, he had never truly envisioned it: how a man might lie with another man. The younger men in his village had sometimes bantered idly about girls, as young men his age were wont to do. Esra could never join in. All of it was a mystery to him--

He let out a soft whine as his chest was pressed to the pillow by a firm hand between his shoulder blades. He caught the smell of a scented oil, and gasped as there was a slick touch between his legs, somewhere so private--

“Don't!” he begged, forgetting to be obedient, startling upright. Umbra easily pressed him back into that horribly exposing position with a cruel hand at the base of his neck.

It was like being held down by irons.

The touch became pressure, and then a breach. Just one long finger pushing into him, inside a place that Esra could not imagine anyone touching. There was no pain, just a sensation of deep wrongness that had him shuddering at the violation of it. He bit his lip to hold back another cry, but hot tears slipped down his cheeks from the shame.

The knight leaned over his back, the weight of his muscular form pinning Esra to the bed. Even if Esra had the full strength to resist, it was like being weighted down by a boulder. His weak, drunken struggles were easily suppressed as Umbra pressed in a second finger, flexed it against the other, parting him.

The penetration was so foreign it was unbearable. He could feel himself stretching, inside, that secret place being opened up, his insides pushed apart by Umbra’s unrelenting fingers. There was a strange sound, a soft wail followed by an uncontrollable whimpering. After a moment, Esra realised it was squeezed from his own throat.

Umbra’s thumb was pressing insistently against a place that was sensitive, rubbing him from the outside, the same time as those fingers slid in and out of him. It had the youth gasping into the pillows, clutching at them with desperation. Building in him, with each movement of the knight’s hand, that strange tug in the pit of his stomach grew and grew.

Something about being pinned like this, unable to move, forced to feel helpless, made his heart race. A soft wounded moan escaped him, that flutter of illicit pleasure just as terrifying as the threat of hurt.

The fingers pulled out of him so quickly it left him breathless and empty. The cool air brushed his skin as Umbra’s heated body moved from his. He could hear, from behind, slick, wet sounds of the knight’s hand sliding over his own hard flesh. A shock of knowledge reverberated through Esra’s body, and he shook with the sudden realisation of how they were meant to fit together...

“Please…d-don’t...” Esra gasped again, for mercy, weeping now, and the knight groaned lowly, sounding more like a beast than a man, and pushed forward to mount him.

Esra’s vision warped. His pleas devolved into a strangled scream that sounded like it was being wrung from his lungs. Mindless, he seized at the blankets.

The knight mercilessly gored him open, bit by bit. With each oiled push, and pull, his cock sank deeper into Esra, paying no mind to how the youth shuddered and wept beneath him.

Umbra rode him hard. He was so large that Esra felt he was being reshaped with every pitiless thrust, turning him into something more… useful, for this act.

Esra sobbed and convulsed, contorting helplessly, reduced to mere reaction as the knight mercilessly, unceasingly sated himself in the youth’s body. He was being burned from within, consumed by a flame made flesh. His drunken struggles did nothing more than tighten Umbra’s grip.

The knight overwhelmed Esra’s senses, blocking out all else but the sensation of fervent hips grinding against him, the searing heat of a beast pinning him down and hungrily spearing into him again and again to the rhythm of some ancient dance.

In the midst of his debasement, over the slapping sounds of skin on skin and his own distressed half-smothered sobs, Esra heard the door to the town hall swing open downstairs. He jerked to the side, mortified, but Umbra didn’t let him wriggle away, and he didn’t stop his punishing pace. The steady creaking of the bed must have clued the intruder in, because he retreated quickly.

Humiliation overcame him, hot and painful. Esra buried his burning face into the pillow and cried harder. That someone had heard him…

They would say that the God King's knight had made the traitor’s son his whore and claimed him in their own town hall, in some sort of twisted tale of comeuppance.

Umbra’s breath came harsher. He bent over Esra’s straining back and took a few long, deep possessive strokes that spawned a sickly sweet ache. Esra shuddered fitfully, like a wounded animal. Then, impossibly, the knight’s movements started to quicken.

Both hands grasped Esra’s hips, jerking his taut body back into each rapid thrust, making the youth writhe. Abruptly, he pulled Esra tight, the youth’s slim back pressed flush against his heaving chest, and spilled his essence deep inside with a shaking gasp. As the knight slipped out of him, Esra let out a tortured moan.

* * *

He fell boneless on the sheets, a shaking trembling raw nerve. There was an ache deep inside of his core. The urge to curl up and cry, only he didn’t know if he had the strength for sobbing, anymore. He felt as if he’d been flayed open, inside.

Umbra loomed close, bringing his burning heat with him. He caressed Esra’s shuddering skin, traced the wrought shape of him where he lay in a boneless tumble. Esra found he was too drained to even flinch away. Not that it mattered. The knight would do what he wanted, regardless.

Umbra pushed the inky black hair where it stuck to Esra’s forehead, out of his eyes to expose the delicate contours of his face.

“I was hard on you,” Umbra whispered, something regretful to his tone. “I had such a hunger…”

Esra hiccuped softly as Umbra brushed the dampness of tears off his cheeks. Being spoken to so gently only made the urge to cry well up in his throat again.

“You’re a fragile little thing, aren't you?”

He turned Esra to him, cradled him in his strong arms as the youth struggled to catch his breath. Esra let himself be moved, too exhausted and sore to do much of anything in the way of resistance. He felt a wheeze in his chest that would only get worse if he exerted himself in struggle.

There was a hollowness to him now. He felt like he’d been punctured. The knight had reached deep into his core and reshaped him, leaving him with an excruciating ache that twinged with every abortive movement.

Umbra made a low sound of comfort, running a hand over Esra’s hair. He kissed Esra’s throat, and rubbed a broad palm up and down the youth’s back, soothing his hiccuping breaths.

Esra was defenseless against such tenderness. He felt so frail, next to Umbra’s towering figure. Yet he was being held, so carefully, and comforted, and so softly kissed.

Laying in Umbra’s arms, skin against skin, Esra was surrounded by the warmth of him, rocked by the rise and fall of his chest with every breath. Despite what had just been taken from him, the pain still within him, Esra felt, strangely, treasured. Both powerless and adored.

Esra looked blearily up at his sated beast. Umbra looked resplendent, his powerful body lazily coiled above him, his smoky eyes dark, smouldering with pleasure.

He had never been held like this, especially not so intimately that he could feel another man’s sweat, the movement of his muscles under pale skin, the soothing beat of his heart. Umbra’s beauty was overwhelming to look upon; his broadly muscled chest, the tightness of his abdomen, the strength and size of his arms. The knight was just as fearsome naked as he was in armor, as every line of his form was perfect to the eye.

Esra’s heart raced just to gaze upon him. His skin was smooth and unmarked, free of the battle scars that might decorate a mortal soldier. On his right shoulder, there was a red tattoo of a symbol that Esra hadn’t seen before: some sort of half cross, or a scythe.

Umbra was unlike any man Esra had ever seen, and he could not bring himself to look away.

Umbra smiled when he saw Esra’s shy glances, and pulled the youth closer to his chest. “You can touch me, if you’d like,” he said, his voice a pleased rumble.

And as if to underline that point, he ran a warm hand from the nape of Esra’s neck, smoothing down his back, to his hip, like he was measuring the length of his body by the span of his palm.

Esra shuddered a little, but did as he was bade, as he secretly wanted to, and touched Umbra in return. He tentatively stroked the broad chest, traced the solid muscles of his shoulders, indulged in the hot strength of him. He ran a hand up Umbra’s neck and felt the serene proportions of his face, stroking a thumb over that sleek cheekbone. He could feel Umbra’s gentle smile as well as seeing it, and his beauty made Esra’s head spin.

How could something so magnificent to look upon be so cruel? It didn’t make sense to Esra, that Umbra could rip his virginity so ruthlessly from him, and then cradle him in his arms like a precious thing.

He wondered if Umbra had even known that it had been his first time.

He must have done. He seemed to know most things.