With a thought, the blue translucent System screen flickered into existence in the air beside his head. Roslin couldn't see it; to her, he was just staring into the dark.
"Search: Lubricant," he commanded internally.
A small icon appeared. [High-Grade Synthetic Lubricant - Cost: 5 MP].
He didn't hesitate. "Buy."
A small, slick tube appeared in his palm, hidden by the shadows. He flipped the cap with his thumb. Roslin was whimpering, her eyes unfocused, her hands feebly pushing against his chest in a mix of fear and anticipation. Before she could process the faint scent of the gel, he reached down.
Alaric reached down and squeezed a generous amount of the cold liquid onto her pussy, rubbing it deep into her folds. Roslin let out a sharp, confused gasp at the sudden chill, her back arching off the fur. He didn't give her a second to pull away. He slathered the rest of the gel onto his cock, the wet friction making him growl with impatience.
"Wait—My Lord—" she tried to breathe, but the words died in her throat as he gripped her hips.
With the lubricant making everything dangerously slick, Alaric didn't just shove. He pressed the head of his cock against her opening and began to push slowly. Roslin's eyes snapped wide, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she felt him begin to stretch her narrow entrance.
"Ah... ah! It's too—" She cut herself off with a sharp, jagged moan as the tip of him forced its way past her lips.
He didn't stop, maintaining a slow, relentless pressure. He felt the resistance of her maidenhead—a tight, unyielding barrier. He pushed harder, the lubricant allowing him to slide inch by inch into her heat. Then, with a soft, internal pop, he breached her.
Roslin's mouth fell open in a silent scream. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over her flushed cheeks as the sharp sting of her broken virginity flared through her. She felt like she was being split apart, her body trembling violently under his weight.
Before she could cry out, Alaric leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, forceful kiss. He used his tongue to distract her, swallowing her whimpers and tasting her salt and panic. As he kept her mouth occupied, he shoved the rest of his length home, burying himself to the hilt.
Roslin let out a muffled, high-pitched moan against his lips—"Mmmph!"—as she felt him filling her up completely. The pressure was immense, a heavy, throbbing sensation that made her vision swim.
Alaric pulled back just enough to look at her. In the moonlight, he could see a thin trail of blood beginning to leak from her pussy, staining the white lining of his cloak beneath her. It was the mark of her innocence, stark and dark against her pale thighs.
"Don't cry," he rasped, though his voice held no real softness.
He began to move, his strokes slow and heavy at first. The lubricant turned every thrust into a rhythmic, squelching sound that echoed in the hollow. To keep her from focusing on the ache, he reached up and shoved her dress aside, tearing the lace to expose her breasts. The freezing air hit her skin, making her nipples harden instantly.
Alaric leaned down, biting at one peak while he continued to hammer into her. Roslin was completely lost now. The pain was fading into a frantic, pulsing need. Her head thrashed on the fur, her hair tangling in the dirt as her moans became jagged and rhythmic.
"Ah... hnghh... M-Myymmm!" she sobbed, her legs hooking tightly around his waist as she gave in to the sensation.
Alaric didn't let up. As the initial sharp sting of her maidenhead tearing began to fade into a heavy, pulsing ache, he shifted his focus back to her skin. He abandoned her lips and trailed a path of biting kisses down the sensitive column of her throat.
".. ah..." Roslin whimpered.
HIS teeth grazing the tendon of her neck. He breathed her in—the scent of her fear mixed with the floral soap of her bath and the rising musk of their joined bodies. Every time he pressed his nose against her skin, Roslin let out a jagged, high-pitched "Haa... nhhn..."
Her fingers, previously stiff with shock, now curled into the thick fur beneath them, her knuckles white.
Alaric pulled back just enough to look down at her. In the silver moonlight, her breasts were pale and trembling, rising and falling with her frantic, shallow breaths.
He reached out, his hands appearing dark and powerful against her delicate, cream-colored skin as he gripped them. He squeezed firmly, molding the soft flesh with a possessive strength that made Roslin's breath stop.
With a intensity, he watched as her nipples reacted to his touch, budding into hard, natural pink points that stood out beautifully against her pale chest. They were tight and sensitive, aching for more, and the sight of them flushed with color only seemed to harden his resolve.
"Look at you," he growled low in his chest.
Roslin's eyes flickered open, glassy and unfocused. "It... it... ah!"
She couldn't finish the thought. Alaric leaned down and took one of those tight nipples into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive bud before sucking it deep.
The sensation sent a lightning bolt straight to Roslin's core. Her back arched violently off the furs, her chest thrusting upward as she let out a broken, rhythmic series of moans.
"Oh... oh gods... mah-ha...!"
Her voice a desperate sob of pleasure. He didn't stop, moving from one breast to the other, biting and licking until she was writhing beneath him. The more he feasted on her, the more she lost her grip on reality.
Her legs, once tense and resistant, now locked around his hips, pulling him deeper into her slick, tight heat.
The sound of their bodies meeting—the wet, squelching slide of the lubricant and the heavy thud of his weight—filled the quiet hollow.
Roslin was no longer crying from pain; her sounds had turned into short, needy pants, her "Ah... nnh... ah!" growing louder and faster with every heavy thrust he buried inside her.