He held her close, feeling every tremble of her fragile body. She was so damn pure—every nerve ending raw with need and fear. Her breaths were shallow, her heart pounding like a drumbeat in the quiet room.
Pyris's golden eyes darkened with hunger as he traced his fingers over the smooth curve of her hip, slow and deliberate, grounding her before what was coming.
"This is yours," he whispered, voice low and rough, "and I'm gonna make sure you never forget."
His hands moved to her thighs, gentle but firm, lifting her legs as he settled between them. The heat of his body pressed against hers was almost too much, setting fire to the cool skin she wasn't used to having touched like this.
He kissed her neck—soft, then demanding—letting his tongue leave marks that promised more. His fingers found the delicate ties of her gown, and with slow, reverent care, he peeled it away.
Her breath hitched, chest rising and falling beneath his gaze, skin flushed and vulnerable under the soft glow of his pink-golden flas. The fire wasn't just warmth—it was power, possession, worship.
He lowered his gaze to her, eyes locking with hers, searching for any sign she wanted to stop. But all he saw was need—a silent plea to be taken, to be claid.
Pyris slid his hand down, tracing the path to where her body was already slick with anticipation, and he felt it—the tight, untouched place ant just for him.
He didn't rush. Not yet.
His fingers brushed softly, teasing, coaxing, letting her get used to the unfamiliar sensation. Her body shuddered at every touch, a mix of fear and desire tangled in her moans.
Then he whispered again, voice thick with promise: "I'm gonna be gentle. But when I'm inside you… you'll know what it ans to be mine."
The mont Pyris pressed against her wet pussy, the world exhaled—soft and aching. Everything else blurred, like existence itself was holding its breath just for them.
Lekiza's thighs trembled, her breath shallow, caught sowhere between fear and longing. His hand was steady on her hip, the other brushing tenderly along her inner thigh, coaxing her open with the reverence of a priest at the altar of sothing forbidden and divine.
Her body pulsed around nothing yet, anticipation already curling inside her like smoke. She looked up at him with eyes wide, glassy, and desperate—not with panic, but with need. Trust. Surrender.
Pyris didn't rush. He never did. He leaned in, forehead resting against hers, their breaths tangling. His voice ca in a whisper, molten and grounding.
"I'm here," he said. "I'm going to take you now. Slowly. Like you were always ant to be mine."
His cock, hard, big and blazing with a pink-gold hue, pulsed against her folds. The heat of it alone made her gasp softly, and when he finally eased forward—just barely—she broke with a shudder. Her fingers clutched at his arms, nails digging in, her whole body tensing around that first gentle intrusion.
Pyris held still.
Not all the way in. Just enough for her to feel him there—present, stretching, promising.
She whimpered, breath hitching as the weight of him settled between her thighs. Her legs tightened around his waist, like her body wanted him deeper even as her breath caught in her chest.
"Shh," he whispered, mouth brushing her cheek. "You're doing perfect."
The pink-golden flas that wrapped around his body kissed her skin now—slow little licks of heat that pulsed where their bodies touched. Each flicker felt alive, sending ripples of warmth dancing across her belly, her breasts, her throat.
Pyris shifted slightly, rolling his hips forward—not even an inch, just enough to make her feel it. The sacred stretch. That delicious friction. That beginning of being filled by sothing too much, too divine, too perfectly wrong.
Lekiza gasped—lips parted, voice caught between a sob and a moan.
"Pyris…"
"I know," he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Let ."
He moved again. Another breath deeper. Inch by inch. Her pussy slowly opened wider for him, heat dripping down her thighs as she surrendered, stretching, gasping, eyes fluttering closed. Every second was deliberate.
A slow burn that didn't just take her body—but consud her soul.
Her hands found his shoulders, holding tight, like the only anchor in a world that had turned liquid beneath her.
His cock slid deeper, the fire from it curling around her spine like a lover's whisper. Her walls trembled around him, the heat and tightness overwhelming. Pyris grunted low in his chest as his maintained cock finally sank another inch, then another, until the press of him beca everything—her breath, her heartbeat, her very thoughts.
He stopped again.
She was full. Not all of him yet, but full in a way that made her bite her lip and arch her hips into him without thinking.
Pyris leaned down and kissed her breast softly, lips brushing the curve with worshipful patience. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking slow, tongue circling lazily as she moaned, her back arching into his chest.
"Do you feel that?" he whispered. "How your body clings to ? You were made for this. For ."
She could barely speak. Only nod, breathless, as he rolled his hips forward again.
This ti, he gave her more.
Her hands flew to his back, fingers pressing into his muscles as the final stretch claid her. She cried out—soft, helpless—and Pyris silenced the sound with a kiss so deep it took her breath and returned it laced with fire.
Their bodies moved together slowly. No rhythm yet. Just the sacred push and pull of bodies discovering each other in their most raw form.
He didn't pound.
He didn't thrust.
He moved inside her like a tide—slow, all-consuming, inevitable.
She clung to him as the pleasure built in waves. Her breath ca in tiny broken fragnts, every nerve in her body on edge, every flicker of movent driving her further from herself.
Pyris's hand slid under her thigh, lifting it just slightly, opening her wider for him. The angle made her cry out again—a soft, shattered noise—and he kissed her neck as he sank deeper still.
"You're doing so good, Lekiza. Taking my cock like that. Gods…"
She trembled beneath him, the weight of him, the heat, the words—all of it too much and not enough. Her body burned, her skin a canvas of flushed heat and desperate longing.
Each ti he withdrew and pushed forward, she felt herself lt more into him. Her moans turned into soft gasps, whispered pleas, unfinished words that got swallowed by the fire growing inside her.
The room felt like a dream now. The pink-golden glow around them pulsed in ti with their breaths, casting them in a light that was neither holy nor damned—but sothing entirely new.
Sacred. Corrupted. Perfect.
And when Pyris finally gave in to rhythm, when his hips began that slow, deep grind into her core, Lekiza broke.
She clung to him, sobbing softly as her first orgasm stole through her—quiet, shaking, full-body. Her walls fluttered around him, and he groaned into her mouth, still moving, still holding her like she might shatter if he let go too soon.
She didn't scream. She whispered his na like a prayer.
He kept moving—slow, claiming, deeper still.
And through the fire, through the stillness, through the trembling hush of aftershocks, Pyris whispered at her temple:
"We're not done."
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