Page 47 of His Emotional Support Snack

He lifts my right hand, turning the forearm to catch the ambient light.

The iridescent veins spiderwebbing beneath my skin pulse. Silver Wildspont magic dances with the deep, vibrant purple sparks of his chaos energy, weaving a permanent, beautiful tapestry of our shared lifeforce. He traces the glowing lines with his tongue, a wet, hot drag that sends a jolt of pure, blinding arousal straight to my core.

My fingers tangle in his locks as my knees tremble, the muscles turning to water under the onslaught of his worship.

Zuirvih rises. He strips the ceremonial armor away with impatient, tearing movements. The midnight-blue plates crash against the marble. The linen tunic follows, discarded into the shadows. He stands bare, a physical testament to ancient, lethal power. Ash-grey skin stretches taut over broad, sculpted muscle, unmarked by the necrotic black veins that plagued him for a decade.

He sweeps me into his arms, carrying me to the vast, silk-draped bed.

The sheets are cool against my back for only a second before his weight cages me. He brackets my head with his arms, his mouth crashing down on mine.

The kiss is a collision of desperate, feral need. His tongue sweeps past my teeth, tasting of spiced wine and the crackling, electric tang of a storm. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him flush against my chest, desperate to eliminate every millimeter of space between us.

The friction of his hardened body sliding against mine ignites a wildfire in my blood. His hands map the curve of my waist, his thumbs pressing into the dip of my hips.

"You are a miracle woven in flesh," he rasps, breaking the kiss to drag his open mouth down my throat. His teeth scrape lightly against my pulse point, the sharp pressure sending a violent arch through my back. "Mine. Blood, bone, and breath. Every beat of this heart belongs to me."

"Yours," I gasp, my fingernails digging into the solid muscle of his shoulders. "Only yours."

He trails kisses lower, his lips brushing the swell of my breasts, his tongue circling and teasing until I thrash against the pillows. His touch is a brand, sensitizing every nerve ending. The shared magic humming between us amplifies the physical contact, turning a simple caress into a devastating shockwave of pleasure.

His hand slides down my stomach, parting my thighs.

The humid heat of my core welcomes the intrusion. His long fingers trace the slick folds, finding the sensitive peak and applying a slow, rhythmic pressure.

A breathless sob tears from my throat. My hips chase his hand, seeking friction, driven by a frantic, consuming hunger.

“Make me truly yours…”

"So desperate for me, little rat," he murmurs, his voice a dark, vibrating hum against the damp skin of my stomach.

He replaces his fingers with his mouth.

The wet, relentless stroke of his tongue pulls a high, broken cry from my lips. He devours the sound, his hands locking my thighs wide, holding me captive to the devastating onslaught. The pleasure builds into a blinding, agonizing pressure. I twist the silk sheets into tight knots, my head tossing back against the mattress.

"Zuirvih, please," I beg, the word fracturing into a ragged gasp.

He rises, crawling up the length of my body, his skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat. His violet gaze burns, dilated and wild. He settles between my knees, the rigid, aching length of his shaft pressing against my entrance.

"Wrap your legs around me." The demand is raw, stripped of all control. “I will apologize… if I take you roughly, my beloved.”

I obey, locking my ankles at the small of his back, drawing him in. My pussy is gushing, waiting for his invasion.

“Take me as hard as you can, my lord,” I say breathlessly, moving my hips so it rubs against his hard cock. “I want all of you.”

Replying with a grunt, he drives forward and himself inside me with one long, relentless thrust.

The stretch is full, a searing, magnificent friction that steals the air from my lungs. The physical joining acts as a catalyst for the magic bound within our chests.

The room detonates with light.

A swirling, localized storm of silver and purple energy erupts from our connected bodies. The magic surges outward, weaving a thick, humming dome over the bed. The three Deceiver mirrors catch the radiant light, reflecting the brilliant, blinding cocoon a thousand times over, turning the dark chamber into a galaxy of crackling stars.

Zuirvih groans, a guttural, vibrating sound that rattles my bones. He rests his forehead against mine, his hands tangling in my dark hair.

"You take the rot," he whispers, his hips pulling back before sinking deep again, setting a punishing, exquisite rhythm. "You take the darkness and turn it into starlight. You are my salvation."

"Don't hold back," I plead, my nails scoring half-moons into his back. "Give me everything."