{ZEPHYROS}
I could slip through stone walls and vanish into shadows, yet with a single intent, I could also make my hand solid enough to wrap around—
The stiff, throbbing length of my arousal pulsed against my palm, twitching as though yearning for its own release.
My teeth clenched.
All because of Iris.
Her face—red from crying, trembling with confusion and fear, frad by that silken winter hair—hit again like a blow.
Damnation. Why her?
Why that expression?
Why did the sight of her tears ignite sothing inside that I had not felt in... gods, how long had it been?
My mories blurred at the edges. Ti passed differently for those like . A season, a decade, a century, a millennia—they all dulled into the sa gray hush. I could not rember when I had last touched myself.
When I had last felt need claw at my insides. When desire had last whispered through like a curse revived.
It must have been so long ago that the recollection had rotted away entirely.
But tonight... that innocence, that purity clinging to her aura—the pristine thread of energy wreathing her like morning frost—it undid . It stripped bare.
As though so dormant part of my old humanity stirred, stretched, woke.
And that was the worst part.
I had prided myself on my detachnt. My coldness. My ability to look upon mortals with the dispassion of a ghost adrift.
Yet she... she disrupted the stillness I had cultivated for so long.
I leaned back against the stone pillar behind , shadows pooling at my feet like ink, the night chill brushing my bare skin as I freed myself from my trousers.
My cock sprang up, hard and flushed pink, a stark contrast to the pale glow of my spectral form. Veins stood out along its length, the head already slick with proof of how far I had fallen into this shaful desire.
My hand tightened around it, and a ragged breath trembled from my lips.
"Pathetic," I muttered to myself. "I have beco utterly pathetic..."
But despite the words, my hand moved. Slowly at first, a tentative glide from base to tip, as if testing the boundary between my phantom nature and the solidity I forced into existence.
The sensation burned through —harsh, too vivid, almost overwhelming.
My head tipped back.
I could not deny how real it felt. How painfully pleasurable. How the mory of her soft, shivering breath replayed in my head with every stroke.
Her tears had traced down her cheeks like falling stars. Her voice—small—had trembled as though she feared the very shadows I commanded.
And yet she faced . She stood her ground, chest heaving, eyes bright with a purity I could not comprehend. A purity that should have repelled .
Instead... it consud whole.
My hand moved faster. My throat tightened, a low growl slipping out as the pressure coiled and tightened lower and lower, spiraling like heated smoke.
"Iris..." I whispered her na, letting it echo in the hollow chamber. "Iris Snow... what have you done to ?"
She was the only one who had not avert her gaze despite her fear.
She was looking at with those pure eyes.
And that, more than anything, broke through my defenses.
The thought of her lips parting in surprise when I surprised her... the way her breath stilled in her throat... the way her eyes widened in innocent alarm—
It made heat surge violently through .
In my mind, she was before again—shivering, breathless, overwheld. Moonlit tears caught on her lashes. Her soft lower lip trembled.
And sothing feral inside responded.
My hips thrust upward into my fist, breath escaping in a harsh hiss. The air stirred, wrapping around like a cloak. Arcane energy humd beneath my skin, pulsing in ti with my racing heartbeat.
I stroked harder.
Faster.
The image of her—pure, ethereal, and trembling—burned behind my eyelids, taunting . Every detail—her pure scent, her soft gasp, her flushed cheeks—poured fuel onto a fire I should not have possessed.
"Damn you..." My voice cracked, deep and hoarse. "Damn you for making feel again."
My body tensed. The pressure tightened into sothing sharp, frantic, irresistible. A knot coiled in my spine, building and building with each desperate pull of my hand.
I bit down on a groan, the sound slipping out anyway—low and broken.
I had not felt like this in ages—breathless, burning, trembling on the edge of sothing dangerously mortal.
My hand tightened around my cock, stroking with a desperate rhythm that made my spine arch.
"Ah—damnation," I whispered, breath breaking on the word.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Imdiately, her face appeared behind my lids—Iris Snow—tear-flushed, breath trembling, eyes shimring like moonlit athyst.
Her voice—soft, frightened, defiant—echoed through my skull as if she stood re inches from .
"Please... don’t..."
Not a plea for to stop—but the sound of a girl overwheld, confused, drawn into a world she did not yet understand.
That innocence—that trembling purity—struck harder than any blade could.
My hips jerked upward into my fist, chasing the heat rising through in powerful surges. My breath stuttered as I stroked faster, each movent slick and needy, the head of my cock already wet with anticipation.
The sensation was excruciating, rapturous—pleasure braided with sha, anger, longing, hunger.
A terrible, perfect contradiction.
"Iris..." I breathed, voice low, coarse, near-breaking. "... why must you haunt so?"
My hand moved faster—tightening, milking, coaxing every shudder my body could give.
The air spiraled around , wrapping my thighs, my torso, my throat—not harming, rely reflecting the tempest inside .
The air grew colder, the arcane sigils on the walls flickering in response to my rising, unstable energy.
I felt... alive.
Cursedly, dangerously alive.
Her image sharpened again before : her pale lashes wet with tears, her lips parted in fragile shock, her breath brushing my cheek as she tried to speak, her small fingers clutching my coat with frightened strength.
My cock twitched violently in my hand.
"Ah—"
My voice cracked, deep and strained as lightning raced through my nerves.
"Do not... look at like that..."
But she did.
In my mind—she always looked at like that.
Vulnerable... luminous... trembling...
And that expression—that soft, helpless, heartbreaking innocence—pushed past the point of return.
My strokes turned frantic, desperate, the pleasure knotting in my belly, rising like a storm. The muscles in my thighs tightened, my back arching, chest lifting as the world narrowed to the burning pressure coiled low in my spine.
My breath ca in quick, ragged gasps.
"Hah—ah—Iris—!"
My body trembled uncontrollably, every nerve alight.
I imagined her one last ti—her small, shaking hand against my chest. Her tear-shimring eyes rising to et mine. Her lips barely parting as she whispered my na:
"...please... Zephyros . . ."
That single imagined word—soft pleading breaking—shattered .
My entire body locked.
A guttural sound tore from my throat—raw, low, unrestrained—as the first hot pulse of release surged through .
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