“No,” I breathe. “Don’t stop.”
He growls and lifts me. My thighs lock around his waist. I feel his cock press right against my pussy—through two layers, sure, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already soaked. Already aching.
He carries me two steps down the corridor and kicks open a flickering panel—some pocket in the Maze where time and rules and gravity bend.
Inside, it’s soft. Pillows. A decaying couch. A cracked screen showing the constellation I was born under.
He drops to his knees.
“Gyon,” I gasp as he pulls me down with him.
“I’m not going to fuck you yet,” he growls. “I’m going to worship you first.”
He spreads my legs open, pushing my pants down and off. His claws are careful. His mouth isn’t.
He kisses the inside of my thigh, then higher. Then higher.
“Oh—fuck—” I arch, one hand in his white hair, the other gripping the back of the couch as his tongue flicks over my pussy. Soft, then firm. Circling, then plunging. He eats me like a man starving.
“You taste like fire,” he mutters. “You always did.”
“Gyon—please—” I sob, grinding against his mouth. He groans, licking harder, sucking my clit until the pleasure sparks white behind my eyes.
My thighs clamp around his head. I come hard, moaning so loud the Maze stutters.
He licks me through it, then stands—one hand dragging me up with him. I’m shaking. Panting. Bare from the waist down. And he’s still fully clothed, hard as stone.
I grab the front of his pants. “Now,” I hiss. “Inside me. I need?—”
He pulls his cock free—long, black-veined, ridged with that faint Reaper texture that makes my mouth go dry. The head glistens. He’s already dripping.
“You’re sure?” he growls.
“I’m sure.”
He turns me, bending me over the broken couch. The cool Maze air brushes my bare skin. Then I feel him—his cock pressing at my entrance.
“Hold still,” he rasps.
Then he slides in.
Slow. Steady. Maddening.
“Fuck—” I choke on the word as he fills me. Stretching. Claiming. Every ridge inside me lights up.
His hands clamp down on my hips. “You’re so tight,” he groans. “So perfect. Jalshagar.”
His voice breaks on that last word.
He starts to move.
Slow thrusts. Deep. Grinding into me like he wants to imprint me.
My fingers dig into the cushions. My body burns.
“I’ve never—” I gasp, “—felt this.”
“This is mine,” he growls, fucking me harder now. “This pussy—your moans—your heart. All of it.”
