Reka sits a lot easier on her horse than I do. "Follow me at an easy trot, Brad!" she calls over her shoulder. "Death is well-trained, just guide him gently, and he'll respond."

  I bend forward. "Your name is not Death," I whisper into my horse's ear. I'll think of something better later. Horseback riding is not completely new to me, but I'm still out of practice. After a few circles around the yard, Reka orders the guards to open the gates for us.

  I get my first good look at our land in a while on the way out. The ground is hard and cold, but no snow falls this far north. My breath frosts in the air, and I hear Reka calling for us to speed up a bit.

  Clop! Clop! Clop! We accelerate to a canter, and I notice a few spider knights following us at a discreet distance. Good. Reka leads us in the direction of the farming village to our east. To my surprise, everyone is outside and working.

  Crews of young men are smashing rocks with tiny hammers while a foreman with horns much like our butler, Galiban, watches. Same species? I've never asked Galiban what he is, exactly. Seemed rude.

  Reka pulls up next to me, and our horses fall into an easy pace so we can talk. "Road crews, dearest, gives the peasants something to do during winter."

  All work stops as we ride by. They're bumping into each other in their rush to kneel. Thinking fast, I smile and wave. Nobody smiles back. It's young men and only young men, I observe. Maybe the old didn't make it, I think darkly.

  We veer off north and follow the stream on the other side of town. My wife at my side lets out of woop of joy and gallops ahead. "Hey, wait for me!" I spur my white stallion on.

  Our horses kick up a great cloud of dust as I race to catch up. Reka leads me on a merry chase through a field of withered cornstalks before pausing at a stone bridge. When I get close, she silences me with a kiss before I can say anything.

  "Having fun?" she asks after pulling away, leaving me breathless, and not just from the hard riding.

  Instead of answering, my mind is on those peasants. "What kind of road are we building?"

  "Oh, I want every farming village within a day's journey to have a Macadamized road to Malmark by the end of winter. It will make future agricultural projects run more smoothly. Once we're done with that, I'd like another road to the sea. Hmm, perhaps an irrigation qanat from the mountains as well."

  I raise an eyebrow. "Macadam roads? You know, we never talked about bringing advancements to your world. We've both got engineering knowledge. There's a lot we could do."

  "Do I sense visions of steam engines dancing in your head, my love?" Reka teases me.

  "Maybe," I admit. It's tempting, but building an industrial revolution from scratch is easier said than done, even if we have magic and a copy of Machinery's Handbook on my computer.

  "Long have I pondered this question," Reka says. "Your machines are fine things, but best deployed cautiously to avoid undue disruption. We can discuss the details later."

  I can agree with that. Standing in my stirrups, I see miles and miles of emptiness around us, plenty of room to grow and develop. "This is all ours?" I ask, waving my hand about vaguely.

  "No sovereign claims the northern wastes." Reka rides her black horse around me in a lazy circle as she explains. "Likely, they don't believe anything can grow here. Whatever we can claim and defend is ours. No southern host would dare trouble us. Few returned from the Great War."

  Great War, huh. I still don't understand it. These lands used to be a lot richer. Now, not even ruins remain. When I asked Reka who won, she looked oddly reticent. Bad memories? She told me the war had no victors. Seeing the wilderness around me, I can well believe it.

  We ride on a little longer beyond the stone bridge, and Reka points out a desert fig tree, surrounded by a field of wildflowers. She dismounts at once, running, no, frolicking through the field.

  "Look at me, Brad! I'm a tradwife!"

  Letting Reka learn about TikTok was a mistake, I decide. Still, the area is oddly beautiful, a little dollop of color in a sea of brown.

  I slide off Death, I mean, my yet-to-be-named white horse, and he goes off to drink from a puddle alongside Reka's black mare. Even in the depths of winter, open water doesn't freeze here.

  My wife gives me a playful look and starts running in the opposite direction. I know what that means! Even in high-heeled riding boots, even in a dress, Reka is faster than she looks, and damn cunning. More than once, she fakes me out like an NFL running back. Our impromptu game of tag tramples flowers by the dozen, and I'm breathing hard by the time I finally corner her against the fig tree.

  She squirms against me as I pin her against the trunk with my body. "Got you!"

  "Oh no! My big, strong man has me completely at his mercy! Whatever will he do to my delicate maiden body?" Reka wails helplessly.

  Delicate maiden? Girl, you're stronger than me, but it's nice that you let me win sometimes.

  The squirming becomes annoying, so I flip her around roughly, taking her back. Without conscious thought, one of my hands goes to her long, pale white throat. Not choking exactly, more of a love grab, but I grip hard enough to let her know I'm there.

  Once she feels it, Reka stills and looks backward. There's no anger in her expression, just the opposite. Those green eyes I love so well are dancing with delight. "Take me, I'm yours," they say nonverbally.

  I feel Reka's ass start grinding against my crotch, driving away any embarrassment about letting our escorts see us. Those spider knights are still following us, I remember. Fuck it. Let's give 'em a show!

  Just like that, our hands are fumbling, first to unbuckle my sword belt, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud, then furiously working to unlace my breeches. I pull Reka into a hot kiss, and our tongues battle for dominance. I'm winning, I think. Her glasses are knocked askew by the way our bodies violently press together. I take them off gently and set them aside before resuming my assault.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Assault is the right word. Something about being out here in the middle of nowhere triggers a primal part of my brain. This is my woman! Mine to take!

  I spin Reka again and force her to bend over, my heavy hand on the back of her neck. She braces against the tree with her arms and presents herself to me.

  My breeches are around my ankles, freeing my aching cock, painfully hard and pointing straight up. Without any more thoughts of foreplay, I bunch up Reka's dress, exposing her ass to the chilly air.

  "Yeeees!" she growls, sounding half feral. "Fuck me! Fuck your woman like an animal!"

  I was going to take my time, but if she's making special requests...

  With one hand, I line up my dick with her weeping slit, teasing it just a little. I can be mean when I want to be. With the other, I hold Reka in place with a firm grip on her shoulder. You're strong, babe, but I'm strong too!

  "Unnnng!" My wife makes a sound like nothing human when I enter her. Who cares if the guards can hear? Who cares about anything? She's hot as hellfire in there, wet, and tight, and perfect.

  I don't think. My hips are moving on their own, slamming into her in a steady rhythm. The dance we're dancing is as old as Adam. Every time I bottom out, she whimpers cutely, making me just want to fuck her harder to draw more cute sounds out.

  It's not cute for long. Reka wouldn't be Reka if she let me have my way completely. She throws that perfect ass back like an expert, slamming into me in synchronization with my thrusts. One hand of hers finds her clit.

  "Harder!" Reka demands.

  In answer, I grip her hips hard enough to bruise and start really pounding. Looking down, I can see a shockwave that travels all the way through her body and makes the tree rattle.

  "I love you," I rasp, grunting with exertion. With every fiber of my being, I'm trying to fuck my love into her, to express it with my body. My thrusts insist on it. Her needy pussy requires it. It's gripping, pulling me deeper. The hand rubbing her clit speeds up.

  "I fucking love you, Brad!" she screams. Her voice carries across the field and beyond, every word punctuated by the sheer violence of our bodies coming together.

  I need her. I need to be closer. Leaning forward, I press my chest to her back. One hand grips her belly possesively and the other finds her throat again.

  "Brad!"

  The word comes out half-choked, because I'm choking her! More! More! More! Reka's back arches like a bowstring as I pull her up, not letting go of her neck for a second. She looks over her shoulder at me in surprise, but this time it's my turn to silence her with a kiss.

  Mine! Mine! Mine! Every thrust is a claim! I really must be in good shape now because I'm not tired at all. Without warning, she climaxes like I'm taking her fucking soul, going weak in the knees and almost collapsing, but my arms hold her up.

  I pound her through her orgasm, even speeding up to a jackhammer pace. The urge to mark her, to fill her with my seed, to fucking breed her, becomes unbearable.

  Our mouths don't separate for a moment as I build up to my final crescendo. At the last boundary of my awareness, I notice the tree is shaking like it's in a hurricane, and every flower is bent flat. Reka's leaking magic again.

  It doesn't stop me. Nothing can stop me. The pull is too strong. I'm gonna...I'm gonna...

  Reka's strangled cry is the only thing I can hear as I empty myself inside her, giving her everything I have. It triggers a shotgun orgasm for her, the pleasure running through us both like an electric current. Every time I plunge into her, I ejaculate another rope. My wife's hungry pussy drinks it all up greedily.

  After a minute, after a lifetime, I release her throat and break our kiss. There's a dazed, half-drunken smile on her face even as she gasps for air. Her body is boneless in my arms, and I set her down gently.

  The perfect moment breaks when I hear a horse whinny and pig squeals behind us. Spinning around in alarm, I notice somebody trying to steal our horses.

  "Reka!" I warn, but looking down, my wife seems completely out of it. It's going to have to be me.

  They're some kind of razorback pig men, three of them, armed with what looks like flint spears. I'd laugh my ass off at them if I were in armor, but they've caught me literally with my pants down.

  One already has the reins of Reka's black horse, and another is trying to get my white one under control. A third spots me and advances with his spear pointed forward.

  Shit! Shit! I bend down, reach for my belt on the ground, and struggle to get my sword out of its scabbard. Thinking fast, I kick out of my breeches entirely, leaving my lower body naked but my feet free to maneuver.

  "Stay back!" I warn, holding my sword horizontally with both hands to try to maintain distance.

  The pig man grunts back, completely unintelligible. I don't know if it can understand my language, but it understands steel, stopping in its tracks when it sees the light glint off my blade.

  I'm tired from the sex, but not that tired. Gears are turning behind the pig man's tiny black eyes, and it looks like hesitation to me. With an exaggerated battle cry, I make it look like I'm charging him. It spooks him just like I'd hoped. He's backing away in a straight line, thrusting his spear forward to try to ward me off.

  Still, spear versus sword is not a favorable matchup for me. I bait him into overextension and slash at his spear cautiously. Luck is with me. The pig man loses his grip on it when I make contact. With no hesitation, with no fear of death, with no conscious thought, the training kicks in, and I bury my sword in his guts.

  Blood and squeals.

  The other two finally notice me, forgetting the horses.

  Wrenching my blade free takes a moment of effort, and my seeming vulnerability makes them brave. Not one, but two pig men armed with stone spears charge me. They're big, heavy, brindled old thunderers, and their trotters make the ground shake. Two at once, even when I've got the skill edge, isn't great odds.

  I try not to think about Reka and focus on the fight. Where the hell are our spider guards? My limp dick flops in the breeze while I brace for an unfair fight.

  No!

  My white horse turns and kicks one of the swine in the head, making the monster crumple like an accordion!

  "Hell yeah!" I cheer.

  The final pig man looks like he realizes he's outmatched. With his attention divided between my horse and me, I rush him. He's big but not terribly mobile. With a bit of lateral movement, I attack from an unfavorable angle for him. He hardly notices, his eyes focused on my horse, the larger threat. In fact, the pig man runs right into me.

  My sword lashes horizontally in a wide arc, biting deep into the pig man's neck. Blood spurts everywhere. It clutches its spear, and for a moment, I'm concerned about a counterattack. I leap back out of range, withdrawing my sword with effort from its tough hide.

  On a human, it would've been a decapitating strike, but this creature isn't human. Still, it's bleeding a hell of a lot. For thirty seconds, it just sort of stumbles around, unfocused, and then collapses.

  I...won?

  Reka picks this moment to come out of her post-fuck haze. Some magic sure would've been nice, honey.

  "Oho, my love, you handled those boarfolk quite well," she compliments me.

  My sword is covered in blood. I'm covered in blood. I'm not wearing any pants! Is that all she has to say?

  "How did they even get here? Don't your Black Widow Knights patrol the land?"

  Reka waves a hand dismissively. "Oh, they hide in the underbrush and breed fast. They're nothing, pests really."

  She doesn't sound concerned at all! I think about whether this is worth starting an argument over when I notice that the fig tree is now covered in green leaves and heavy with fruit. "Is this your magic?" I indicate with my sword. The flowers are back, too, more vibrant than ever.

  "I'll have to send somebody to collect the figs, ah, and the boar meat," she says lightly. Then she looks back at me, her green eyes dark with desire. "You were magnificent, my love. You look so fetching, covered in blood like that." She licks her lips.

  Are you serious right now? Did killing pig men make Reka horny again?

  "He helped," I say, indicating my white horse with a shrug of my shoulder.

  "Ah, Death is a mighty stallion, no?"

  "That's not his name," I say in an unamused tone. The horse and I make eye contact. I know what I must do. "I shall call you...Backshot!"

  Reka on horseback