Nosing through the mess, seeking to claim that glorious seam.
Thalos went rigid. Pupils blown black, his every fin flared wide in a helpless display of shock. His composure shattered, head snapping up, he lifted wide eyes and found himself caught. Ensnared. Staring into molten silver. Shocked all the way down to his brilliant silver fins.
“Are you insane?” he hissed, flashing his teeth.
Grinning, Nyx wrapped one hand about her throat, fingers closing in a possessive circle. Forcing her still and pliant as he fought for purchase. As he pressed against her seam, seeking any tiny crack of access, his free hand slid to her thigh. Draping that grotesque limb around his hip—forcing her open—he groaned. “You can take it, sweet thing,” he growled, equal parts command and desperate plea. “Take us both. All of it.”
Thalos couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t move.
Pinned inside her, frozen as his every nerve was lit with heat and pressure, Thalos’ blood screamed with the need for relief. An end. Head spinning with the illicit thrill.
He should fight it, withdraw and stop the trench king from doing this. Punish him for the audacity.
But… he shuddered. Bewildered, because… he wanted to see if she could.
Take them both.
Tendons standing rigid in his throat, Thalos gasped when Nyx breached that already tight seal. Wedging past stretched muscle, he bullied his way into territory already claimed.
It was brutal, staggering pressure.
A crushing grip that seized around his shaft and locked them both in place. Almost painful as Kore fought to accommodate what should never have fit inside her.
“Yesss,” Nyx snarled, pressing forward. Sinking deeper. “Almost there. Just a little more.”
The friction was obscene. Impossibly tight. Forcing them together, compressed. Bitter rivalry dissolved into slick, grinding heat.
It was taboo.
Raunchy and desperately, unbelievably lewd.
Trapped inside a woman made to stretch around them, Thalos shuddered. His restraint hanging by a single, fragile filament. A thread of gossamer silk growing thinner with every stolen inch.
A sound wrenched free from Kore's throat. Something desperate and animal, agonized by the strain. Fingers buried in Nyxarion’s hair, she shook her head. Gills flaring wide. Colors erupting across her skin in a violent cascade of riotous color. Weeping as her petals were rendered bloodless, as she was pressed to her limit.
“Thaaat’s it,” Nyx crooned, thumb stroking the column of her throat, trapping the thundering pulse beneath his digit as he petted her. Soothed her. Tracing her gills, he bumped his forehead to hers. “That’s it, Kore. You were made for this. For me. You can take it.”
Tail flicking, Thalos groaned. Each kicking throb he felt wasn’t his. Every twitch of engorged flesh echoed in Nyxarion’s shaft was magnified in his own. Mirrored. The sensation snaked up his spine and crawled behind his eyes where it was left to squirm and throb.
Head falling back, Thalos’ lips parted around a silent gasp. One that bled from his gills in pathetic, frantic spasm.
It was the thrill.
The rush of feeling Nyxarion beside him. Feeding himself into her, one merciless inch at a time.
Choking on a curse that dissolved into bubbles, Thalos’ hips started to move. Sluicing through the crush. Tiny, desperate strokes. Each one a grinding slide against the heat of Nyxarion's shaft. Every tiny pulse forward a bolt of lightning in his spine.
"Gnghhh." The sound was dredged up from the bottom of his lungs. A thing he couldn’t control, the mutant bastard offspring of agony and delirium.
But there was a rhythm boiling beneath the chaos.
Obscene beyond reckoning.
Utterly, blindingly perfect.
Kore came undone. Impaled by two kings, her lips gaping around soundless, broken sobs. "P-please… I need… I…more…”She shook her head, barely coherent. “I can't take—please," she gasped, clawing at Nyxarion's shoulders, sobbing and desperate against his collarbone.
