“I’m real,” he said, drawing her gaze. “This is real.”
That deranged fire burned in his eyes as he fucked her slow and deep, and she wondered if one day it would consume her. How deeply did that virus inside him run? What had it changed? If he was not compelled by the morals his architects had designed for him, how would he determine his limits?
As fear began to lick up her spine, whispering worst-case scenarios, he shattered her doubts.
“I love you,” he said raggedly, eyes darting to drink in every inch of her reaction to those words. “I love you, Ophelia. That’s real.”
She whimpered, terrified both by the implications of what he was saying and how strongly she was reacting to the confession.
“Can you feel it?” he asked, circling his hips as he ground against her. “Can you?”
Tears were streaming down her temples again. She couldn’t breathe from the intensity of the moment, both emotional and physical.
He let her thigh fall so he could squeeze her throat. “Speak.”
She laughed bitterly. He was fucking the air out of her lungs and squeezing her windpipe, and he wanted her to speak? The breakdown in rationality only made him seem that much more real.
He realized his mistake, loosening his possessive grip.
“Please,” he pressed, sliding his hand around her nape to cradle the back of her head. “Tell me you feel it.”
She bit her bottom lip.
“Ophelia.” He pressed his forehead to hers as his hips continued their restless churning.
“Yes,” she said, though the admission terrified her. “I feel it.”
“It’s real,” he breathed, closing his eyes and nuzzling his nose against hers. “Say it.”
“It’s real,” she whispered.
He groaned, capturing her lips with his own. The angle of his hips changed until his pelvis ground against her clit as he moved in her. His thrusts grew faster and faster, the pleasure white-hot and edging on pain. She came apart with his tongue in her mouth and his hand buried in her hair, the orgasm so powerful that her thighs shook violently.
His thrusts grew erratic, and then he was coming, too. She yelped when the jet of his cum was strangely cool within her, and he had the nerve to laugh in her ear.
“What the hell!” she gasped, trying to wriggle away.
He let go of her hand to palm her hip, trapping her in place as another lash of odd, chilled cum filled her. Lazy thrusts stirred it inside her until her whole channel was tingling.
“What are you doing?” she asked, batting at his shoulders.
“It’s an analgesic,” he murmured, nipping at her jaw. “Stop struggling, brat.”
She went limp, panting from the effort of trying to throw him off.
“You’re sore. I don’t like seeing you suffer. This will help.”
“Liar,” she groused, wriggling with discomfort at the alien sensation. “You love watching me suffer.”
He grinned.
“Only in a very specific context,” he agreed mildly, ignoring the indignant sound she made. “But I wouldn’t like to watch you in pain all day knowing I was the one who caused it.”
He pulled out of her with a grunt, sitting back on his heels and stroking his cock until another jet of cum lashed over her pelvis. She rose onto her elbows, gaping at the viscous, blue-tinged fluid. He dragged his fingers through it and smoothed it like a salve over her vulva, slipping it between her labia.
She wanted to object to the sheer grossness of it, but when the ache between her legs gave way to cooling relief, she slumped back onto the pillows without a complaint.
He sucked his fingers clean when he was finished and shifted to lie beside her. His arm banded around her waist and dragged her until her body was flush against his.
