Chapter Text
You felt him before you saw him.
It wasn’t sound, or scent, or even the rhythm of wingbeats tearing through the sky. It was the bond—your bond. A roar through your veins, a flare of heat along the sacred thread that tethered you to him. It slammed into your chest so suddenly your knees buckled, your breath catching in your throat.
Alber.
Your heart called his name before your voice could.
You stepped outside the cave where you had waited these long, heavy days. Nights had crawled across your soul like shadows, but none of it mattered now.
Because he was here .
He landed with the force of a meteor, wings snapping wide before folding behind him like twin shadows. There was no armor. No mask. Not anymore. Because the moment his eyes locked onto yours, he ripped the mask away.
And then he was on you.
No words. No hesitation. Just the crash of his mouth on yours—hot, rough, relentless. It wasn’t a kiss. It was a claiming. A furious collision of breath and soul and ache. His hands gripped your face, then your hips, then your ass, dragging you against him like skin contact was the only thing keeping him alive.
You gasped into his mouth, head tipping back as he kissed you deeper—tongue sweeping past your lips, devouring you like a man long starved. Your fingers speared into his thick white hair, clinging, trembling, your flame igniting up your spine in response.
His wings snapped wide, trembling with restraint, encasing you both—and your own flared to meet them, feathers brushing his back. It was instinct. It was bond. It was biology screaming: now.
He carried you. Lips never leaving yours, hands locking beneath your thighs as your legs wrapped around his waist. You could feel the hard line of him pressed against you through his leathers, feel the way he shook from holding back.
He brought you into the cave—your cave—lit only by firelight and need. Your back hit the wall with a gasp, stone cold against your skin, his body burning into yours like a sun pressed too close. His mouth moved to your throat—biting, sucking, marking . Not gentle.
“Never again,” he growled into your neck, voice low and rough. “Never again this long.”
You nodded against him, panting, hips already grinding to meet his. “It hurt, Alber.”
His grip tightened, fire flaring hotter. “I know. I felt everything.”
Then his hand slipped between your legs, fingers stroking you through soaked folds—rough, fast, no teasing. “Already dripping for me,” he snarled.
“For you,” you gasped, hips canting into his palm. “Always you.”
He didn’t wait.
He yanked his pants low just enough to free himself—thick, hard, leaking—and aligned in one smooth, brutal thrust. He sank into you fully. Deep.
You cried out—head slamming back into the wall, legs locking tighter around his waist—as he filled you in a single, devastating stroke. Your walls clenched around him, hot and pulsing, the bond singing with re-connection. Alber groaned against your collarbone, forehead pressed to your skin as he held still, shaking.
Then he moved.
No rhythm. No gentleness. Just raw need, hips slamming into yours, bodies crashing together with wet, filthy sounds and the scent of fire and sex thick in the air. His hand cupped your ass, guiding your body down on each thrust, making you take him to the hilt.
You moaned—open, wild, desperate. “More,” you breathed. “Harder.”
He gave it.
Your flames burst across your back, wings shivering as he drove into you like he could carve his name into your soul. His name— Alber, Alber —fell from your lips like prayer. His teeth grazed your jaw, your throat, your shoulder, finding the spots that made you writhe and clench tighter around him.
Your nails raked down his back, dragging growls from him that were all animal. Each thrust knocked you harder into the wall, legs trembling from the intensity.
The cave lit with fire— your fire, then his . Red and gold. Fever-bright. Sacred. The bond between you throbbed like a second heart.
Your orgasm slammed into you—sudden, blinding. Your body seized, walls fluttering around him, wings flaring wide as your flame burst across the stone in a wave of heat. You cried out, head tossed back, flame echoing in your voice. He felt it. Growled. But he didn’t stop.
“Not done,” he rasped. “Not nearly done.”
He slammed deeper, harder, until the wet slap of your bodies echoed off the walls. Your body took him greedily, stretching, opening, begging for more. And when he came, he did it with a snarl, hips grinding deep as he emptied into you, forehead pressed to yours, fire exploding from his back in a halo of gold.
He shuddered, and then stilled—panting, trembling, one palm pressed over the place between your wings.
The place no one touched beside him.
~~~
You weren’t sure how long it lasted—how many times you reached for each other, lost yourselves in each other. Time fractured. It was ancient. Primal. Not just pleasure. It was salvation. Soul-starvation fed.
And when it was over—when you collapsed into him, tangled and dazed, his forehead pressed to yours, your wings limp and twitching in the aftermath, clothes long gone—you whispered the question that had haunted the silence between you.
“Do you think… our ancestors felt this too?”
His chest rose against yours. His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together, slick and warm.
“They must’ve,” he murmured. “How else would they have survived this madness?”
You swallowed, dazed. “They must’ve known the moment they found each other.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. Then, quiet. “So did I,” he whispered. “From the second I saw you.”
The fire between your shoulders bloomed again. But even in the warmth of his arms, in the silence that followed the storm, something stirred. A question you hadn’t dared to voice until now.
Were you truly meant for each other… or had fate simply thrown you together because you were the last?
It dug into your ribs like thorns, and you knew he felt it. The bond flinched, rippling with the shadow of your fear. His hand rose gently to your cheek, thumb brushing your skin. His eyes—crimson and unreadable—held no anger. Only understanding.
You turned your face into his chest, not in shame, but in the quiet ache of doubt. Of wondering whether love had found you by choice… or because there was no one else left.
Still, you whispered it. “Do you think we only bonded because we’re the last of our kind…?”
He didn’t answer right away. Just held you tighter.
Then he shifted, pulling back enough to look into your face. He didn’t force eye contact—he waited. Patient, steady, his fingers threading through your silver-white hair like it was something sacred.
“No,” he said softly. “I think the fire between us knows the difference.”
You blinked and he continued, voice low and sure.
“If it were just biology… just survival… I wouldn’t lose my mind every second I’m away from you. I wouldn’t crave your soul like this.” His gaze didn’t waver. “The bond didn’t form because we’re alone. It formed because we found each other.”
A silence stretched. Full. Heavy. Then, quieter:
“I don’t know what our ancestors called it. But this… this is real.” And then, nearly a whisper: “I chose you. Not because I had to. Because I couldn’t help it.”
You stared at him. Breathless. Your heart burning wild in your chest. And in that moment, it didn’t matter what fate had decided. Because he had chosen you.
And you—despite the fear, despite the questions—chose him back all over again.