I can’t stop grinning.
We’re sitting in the inn’s corner table, tucked away from the afternoon crowd filtering through the bar section. Tisha sits to my left, Meira to my right, and both of them look like they’re attending a funeral. Their expressions are grim, shoulders tense, mouths pressed into tight lines that make the air between us feel heavy with dread.
Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to let my smile split my face in half.
Tisha turns to me, and the look she gives could freeze water.
“This isn’t funny, Vincent.”
“Oh, so you two got to laugh at me,” I say, the grin refusing to budge from my lips. “But now that the shoe is on the other foot, I can’t smile?”
Meira stares forward at nothing, her jaw working as if chewing on thoughts she can’t quite voice.
“I never thought...” Her tone comes out quiet, distant. “In all my life that this could ever happen to me.”
The disbelief in her voice makes my ribs ache with a sudden surge of pride I probably shouldn’t feel. I lean back in my chair, letting the satisfaction wash over me.
“I’m honestly looking forward to being a dad.”
Tisha’s head snaps toward me, frustration bleeding through every syllable.
“We’re thrilled Meira is pregnant, Vincent.” She pauses, her expression darkening as her gaze shifts to her wife. “We’re this upset because you’re making us follow through with Meira’s stupid bet.”
The dirty look she gives Meira could peel paint off the walls.
Meira is two weeks late with her period. Tisha told me that pretty much always means pregnancy for an Elf.
Meira’s hand moves slowly, settling on her stomach with careful deliberation. Her fingers spread across the fabric of her tunic, her voice thick with awe.
“I can’t believe you got me pregnant.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a father,” I say, and I mean it completely.
A small smile tugs at the corner of Meira’s mouth. It’s brief, fragile, but genuine enough to leave me glowing.
Meira shifts her focus from her stomach to Tisha.
“Tisha,” she starts, quieter than usual. “Perhaps we should help you get pregnant as well.”
My eyebrows shoot up. I watch Meira’s cheeks darken with color, the flush spreading across her obsidian skin.
“It’d be nice for our baby to have a sibling.” The words tumble out quickly, like she’s afraid if she doesn’t say them fast enough, she’ll lose her nerve entirely.
Tisha’s hand reaches out, covering Meira’s where it rests on her stomach. Her fingers intertwine with her wife’s, the gesture carrying a tenderness that twists something deep in my gut.
“I’ll think about it,” Tisha says softly.
The warmth at that moment evaporates instantly. Tisha scans the common room, reading faces with sudden urgency.
“Let’s just leave.” Her voice drops lower, tension bleeding through every word. “We don’t have to meet with…”
The door explodes inward. The force with which it swings open makes several patrons jump, their conversations cutting off mid-sentence as heads turn toward the entrance.
A figure fills the doorway. She has to lower her head and bend her shoulders to get through the frame without cracking her horn against the wood.
The Oni.
My breath hitches as she straightens to her full height inside the common room. Over seven feet of crimson skin and coiled muscle, that massive greatsword still resting casually against her shoulder like it weighs nothing. Those smoldering irises sweep across the room, and conversations die in their wake.
Her gaze lands on our table. On me, specifically.
Meira’s hand shoots across the table and grabs my wrist with bruising force, genuine fear flickering in her silver stare for the first time since I’ve known her.
Her command breaks my paralysis, sharp and firm.
“Vincent, let us do all the talking.”
I nod once, unable to tear my eyes away from the Oni as she approaches. Each step makes the floorboards creak under her weight, the sound of her boots echoing through the suddenly silent room.
She reaches our table and stops. Up close, she’s even more imposing. Without waiting for an invitation, she pulls out the remaining chair and lowers herself into it. The wood protests under her weight, but holds. She sets the massive blade against the table’s edge with care, though even resting there it looks ready to cleave through the timber.
Her crimson gaze sweeps across the three of us before settling on Meira.
“It was you elves who requested a meeting with me?”
Her voice is deeper than I expected, carrying a gravelly undertone that raises goosebumps along my arms.
Tisha clears her throat. Nervousness flickers across her features before she forces steadiness into her tone.
“Yes.” She pauses, her jaw tightening. “Would you be interested in sleeping with our slave for one silver?”
The Oni turns her attention to me. She rakes her gaze over me with an intensity that makes my pulse spike, taking in every detail with predatory focus.
“You’d let me fuck your human?”
The disbelief in her voice is thick. Her eyes narrow, suspicion creeping into her expression as she looks between Meira and Tisha.
“For one silver?” she continues, her tone sharpening. “What kind of trick is this?”
“No trick,” Meira says, measured despite the tension radiating from her body. “We own him. He’s proven. Well-trained.”
The Oni leans back in her chair, the wood creaking ominously under the shift in weight. Her hand comes up to stroke along the curve of her horn, an idle motion.
“Humans don’t let Onis near their males.” She fixes on me again, and I feel the weight of her scrutiny like a physical pressure. “You’re telling me I can have this one for an hour? For a single silver coin?”
“Yes,” Tisha confirms, though her voice wavers slightly.
The Oni’s lips curve into a grin that shows too many sharp teeth.
“And he’s willing?”
“It’s not like you’re going to hurt me, right?”
The silence hangs for a beat. Then her hand moves with startling speed, one clawed finger extending to touch my face. The sharp point traces along my jaw with deliberate slowness, the pressure light enough not to break skin but firm enough that I feel every millimeter of movement.
“That’s up to you, sweetheart.”
Her voice drops lower, intimate in a way that sends a chill down my spine. The claw continues its path, trailing down to where the collar sits around my windpipe.
Meira’s hand tightens on my wrist hard enough to hurt.
“You cannot harm him.” Her statement comes out sharp, absolute.
The Oni’s smoldering gaze shifts from me to Meira, and her grin widens. The claw doesn’t move from where it rests against my throat.
“What’s considered harming?”
“No injuries.” Meira’s voice carries that clinical precision I’ve heard her use when negotiating terms.
The Oni’s head tilts slightly, her expression shifting into something that looks almost amused.
“What’s considered an injury?”
Meira’s eyes close for a long moment. When they open again, she rolls them with exasperation that breaks through her carefully maintained composure.
“Scratches are fine,” Meira says through gritted teeth. “Bruises are acceptable. But no broken bones, no blood loss requiring healing, no permanent damage.”
The Oni’s claw traces back up my jaw, and she studies my face with renewed interest. Her grin doesn’t fade, but I see calculation moving behind that fiery glare.
“He’s sturdier than he looks?”
“He’s resilient,” Tisha cuts in, her voice tight. “But we’re protective of our property.”
The Oni leans back in her chair, finally withdrawing her claw from my face. Her hand returns to rubbing the dark horn.
“One hour. One silver.” She pauses, looking directly at me with an intensity that makes my mouth go dry. “And I can do whatever I want to him as long as I don’t break him permanently.”
“Yes,” Meira confirms, though the word sounds like it costs her.
The Oni’s grin transforms into a full smile, showing every sharp tooth in her mouth. The sight should terrify me. Instead, my pulse quickens for entirely different reasons.
“When?”
“Do you have time right now?” Tisha asks, puncturing the heavy silence before I can process what’s happening.
The Oni’s eyes go wide. Her hand freezes mid-stroke, and for a moment the predatory confidence falters into genuine surprise.
“I sure do.”
*****
I slam into Kijo, the Oni’s name apparently, from behind, and the disappointment hits me harder than I expected.
She’s incredibly tight. The kind of pressure that should have me seeing stars, my cock gripped inside her with enough force that every thrust takes real effort. Her crimson skin gleams with sweat under the afternoon light filtering through the window, muscles rippling beneath that flawless surface as she braces herself on all fours. She’s gorgeous. Seven feet of raw power and otherworldly beauty, her black hair spilling across her shoulders, that horn catching the light every time she moves her head.
This should be perfect.
But it’s not.
Kijo’s head turns, her fiery stare finding mine over her shoulder. The look in them isn’t the predatory intensity I expected. It’s needy. Vulnerable in a way that makes my rhythm falter.
“Please spank me again, daddy.” Her voice comes out breathy, desperate. “I’ve been such a bad girl.”
The words hit me like cold water.
I stare at her, my hips still moving on autopilot while my brain tries to catch up. She shifts her weight, arching her back to present herself more fully, and the motion pushes me deeper inside her. A moan tears from her throat that’s pure submission.
“Harder,” she gasps. “Please, I need it.”
My hand comes down on Kijo’s ass. The impact makes a sharp crack that echoes off the walls, and she cries out in pleasure.
“Yes! Just like that!”
I keep thrusting, keep spanking when she begs for it, but the excitement draining out of me has nothing to do with physical exhaustion. The fantasy I’d built in my head crumbles with every pleading word that falls from her lips.
I thought she’d pin me down. Use that incredible strength to take what she wanted, push me past every limit I thought I had. When she grabbed my face in the common room with that claw, when she asked what counted as harm with that dangerous grin, I’d been so sure this would be intense in all the ways I craved.
Instead, she’s begging me to dominate her.
“Tell me I’m a disgusting little slut,” she whimpers, pushing back against me with desperate enthusiasm.
“You’re a disgusting little slut,” I manage, the words tasting wrong in my mouth.
Kijo shudders, her internal muscles clenching around me in waves. The sensation is incredible, objectively amazing, but it does nothing for the numbness settling in my stomach.
Most men would probably love this. A gorgeous, powerful woman reduced to begging for punishment, eager to submit to someone a fraction of her size and strength. It should be the ultimate power trip.
But I’ve got my own masochistic streak.
I wanted her to wreck me. To use that strength and show me exactly how much I could take from someone who could break me without trying. The danger, the edge of genuine threat mixed with pleasure, that’s what made my pulse race when I first saw her.
I compose myself. I need to be professional about this.
“Don’t you feel embarrassed?”
Kijo’s eyes widen, and I watch confusion flicker across her features before submission takes over again. “Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, I’m so embarrassed.”
I pull out of her and grip her hips, flipping her over onto her back. She goes easily, sprawling across the mattress with her legs spread wide in invitation. Her red gaze fixes on my face with desperate need.
I push back inside her and lean forward, my hand finding her throat. The memory of Tisha choking me surfaces in my mind, the way her fingers dug into my windpipe while she rode me. I apply pressure, feeling Kijo’s pulse jump beneath my palm.
Her reaction is immediate and intense. A moan escapes her constricted throat, and her hips buck upward to meet my thrusts. Her hands grab at my arms, not to push me away but to pull me closer.
“Yes,” she gasps, the word coming out strangled. “Yes, yes, I’m such a stupid useless sow!”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what you are!” I say, putting force behind the words even though I have absolutely no idea what a sow is.
Her internal muscles clamp down around me like a vise. The orgasm crashes through her with devastating force, and she writhes beneath me. Her eyes go unfocused, dreamy, rolling back slightly as pleasure overwhelms her. The contractions milk my cock in rhythmic waves.
I keep thrusting into her, chasing the friction while she rides out her climax. My hand stays wrapped around her throat, feeling every whimper and gasp vibrate against my palm.
An urge hits me without warning. I gather saliva in my mouth and spit directly onto her face.
Guilt floods through me immediately. That was too far, too degrading...
Kijo moans louder. The sound is raw, ecstatic, and her body arches off the mattress with renewed intensity.
The bedroom door rattles violently on its hinges, thrown open to hit the adjacent wall.
My head snaps toward the sound. Meira stands in the threshold, both hands pressed against her temples. Tisha is right behind her, eyes wide.
“IT WAS A FALSE ALARM!” Meira’s voice pierces the air. “I JUST GOT MY PERIOD! I’M NOT PREGNANT, VINCENT!”
The words hit me like a physical blow. Profound loss washes over me, hollowing me out from the inside. All the excitement, the plans forming in the back of my mind about fatherhood, the joy that had been growing at the thought of Meira carrying my child, gone in an instant.
“Damn.” The word scrapes out of me raw and hollow. “I was so excited...”
“Vincent.” Tisha’s voice interrupts my spiral. “Why are you choking her?”
I blink, my gaze dropping to where my fingers are wrapped around crimson skin. The pressure I’d been applying registers suddenly, and I release her immediately. My hand jerks back like I’ve touched fire.
Kijo’s eyes go wide with horror. She pushes herself up on her elbows, those irises darting between me and the two elves standing in the doorway. Her mouth opens, closes, opens again.
“Don’t tell them, please!” The words burst out of her in a desperate rush. “Please, I’m begging you!”
The panic in her voice snaps me out of my daze. I look at her face properly for the first time since Meira’s announcement. Tears streak down her cheeks, but not from pain or fear of me. This is pure mortification.
She’s terrified of Meira and Tisha knowing what she’s into.
“Tell us what?” Tisha asks, genuine confusion threading through her tone.
Kijo scrambles backward on the bed, pulling away from me with frantic movements. Her powerful body curls inward, making herself smaller despite her size.
“Nothing!” Her voice cracks on the word. “We were just... it was normal regular fucking!”
I watch Tisha’s expression shift as she processes the scene in front of her. She glances between Kijo’s panicked face and my position on the bed, and I see understanding dawn.
“Well, regardless...” Tisha’s voice carries careful neutrality. “We think we’re going to call this off.”
Relief floods Kijo’s features so fast it’s almost comical. She nods frantically, scrambling to pull herself together.
“That’s fine. I already finished anyway.”
Meira’s silver eyes narrow. “It’s only been fifteen minutes.”
Kijo doesn’t respond. She’s already moving, grabbing her clothes from where they’re scattered across the floor. Her hands shake as she pulls on her undergarments, then her leather pants. The massive greatsword gets strapped to her back with practiced efficiency despite the trembling in her fingers.
“Thanks.” The word comes out breathless as she tugs her shirt over her head. “It was fun.”
She’s out the door before any of us can say anything, her boots thundering down the hallway at a speed that seems excessive even for someone her size.
Tisha shuts the door behind her.
Meira stands there staring at the closed wood, her mouth slightly open. “We were going to give her the money back.”
I shrug, pulling the blanket across my lap. The movement feels mechanical, my brain still trying to catch up with everything that just happened.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
Tisha turns toward me, curiosity replacing the concern from moments before. “What happened in here, Vincent?”
“She’s a masochist, I guess.” The words feel inadequate, but I don’t have a better explanation. “She wanted me to dominate and degrade her.”
Meira’s eyes go wide. “She’s the only A-rank adventurer in the city.”
“Huh.” Tisha crosses her arms, leaning against the door. “Makes you wonder.”
The hollow ache in my gut rushes back all at once.
“I’m so sorry you’re not pregnant, Meira.”
Meira’s expression transforms. The bafflement drains away, replaced by warmth that reaches her eyes. She crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed beside me. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with careful tenderness.
“It’ll happen when it happens, Vincent.” Her voice carries certainty that leaves me silent. “With how excited you were when we told you this morning...” She pauses, squeezing my hand. “I promise, one way or another, we will have children in your lifetime.”
“Not right now, though?”
Meira’s lips curve into a small smile. “Let’s focus on buying a house first.”