Gon thrust up to et her relentless rhythm, his rod plunging deep into her tight, slick heat, each motion a counterpoint to her fierce pace.
But he wasn’t just reacting, he was attentive, shifting his hips subtly, adjusting angles until he found that sweet spot inside her that made her breath catch, her eyes flutter half-shut.
His hands road her body, restless and claiming, one slid up to her breast, squeezing the soft weight, fingers pinching her nipple hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from her lips.
The other gripped her ass, kneading the firm curve, guiding her when she let him, his touch a steady anchor amid her wildness.
The bed creaked beneath them, the straw mattress shifting with every clash of their bodies, and the air grew heavy with the musk of sweat and the sharp tang of desire.
Zara leaned forward, her hair spilling over his chest like a dark curtain, and sank her teeth into his shoulder, a quick, feral bite that stung, marking him as hers.
Her nails scored red lines down his chest, a taunt in every scratch, and she smirked against his skin, voice rough with challenge. "Thought you’d break ?"
He growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating between them. "Just warming you up," he shot back, his tone edged with a promise.
In one fluid motion, mid-thrust, he flipped her, his hands snaring her wrists, pinning them above her head as she landed on her back with a startled huff.
The shift was seamless, his strength understated but undeniable, and he slowed his pace deliberately, teasing her with shallow strokes that barely grazed her depths.
She snarled, bucking up against him, her hips demanding more, her green eyes blazing with frustration and need.
He held her gaze, a flicker of amusent in his dark stare, then gave her what she craved, deep, powerful thrusts that drove the breath from her lungs, each one rocking her body against the creaking bed.
His free hand slid between them, finding her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that sent jolts of fire through her nerves, driving her wild beneath him.
Zara fought back, twisting one wrist free from his grip with a surge of strength, her hand flying to his back.
Her nails clawed down his spine, leaving stinging trails that made him hiss, the pain only sharpening the heat in his blood.
Her legs locked around his waist, thighs clamping tight, pulling him deeper until he filled her completely, their bodies fused in a frantic, primal rhythm.
The room shrank to the space between them, the slap of skin, the ragged catch of her breath, the low groans rumbling from his chest.
Her second climax was building fast, a tidal wave gathering in her core, and she didn’t hold back, her voice spilled out loud and unrestrained, curses tangling with moans, his na a jagged cry on her lips as the tension coiled tighter.
He matched her intensity, his thrusts growing harder, more desperate, his fingers pressing against her clit with a precision that made her tremble, her hips jerking up to et him.
She was a storm breaking, her core pulsed around him, hot and relentless, her climax crashing through her with a force that arched her back, her head tipping back into the blanket as she scread his na again, raw and unfiltered.
The sight of her, sweat-slicked, wild, undone, dragged him over the edge.
He buried himself deep, one final thrust that pinned her beneath him, and spilled inside her with a ragged groan, his body shuddering as the release tore through him.
The system chid.
Gon stepped out into the cool night air, the heavy wooden door of Zara’s quarters thudding shut behind him.
His boots scuffed the stone path as he made his way back toward his hostel, a faint grin tugging at his lips.
The world felt lighter, sharper, he was riding a high, his blood still humming from the heat of their encounter, his skin tingling with the mory of her touch.
The palace lood around him, its towering spires cutting jagged silhouettes against the moonlit sky, but for once, its grandeur didn’t weigh on him.
He felt untouchable, invincible, like a man who’d conquered sothing wild and walked away stronger for it.
The corridor to his room stretched ahead, dimly lit by flickering torches bolted to the stone walls, their flas casting long, wavering shadows that danced at the edges of his vision.
The air slled faintly of smoke and old mortar, a grounding contrast to the heady rush still coursing through him.
He was halfway down the hall when a figure stepped into his path, abrupt and silent, blocking the way forward.
Gon’s stride faltered, his senses snapping to attention.
It was the boy, the one who’d been staring at him ever since they’d arrived at the palace three days ago.
Dark-haired, broad-shouldered, with eyes that seed to bore through rather than look at you.
Gon’s hand dropped instinctively to his side, fingers brushing empty air where his sword should’ve hung.
His stomach lurched.
In his post-coital haze, caught up in the glow of escorting Zara, he’d left it behind, propped against the wall in his room, forgotten.
He cursed himself silently, a sharp ntal reprimand cutting through the lingering fog of satisfaction.
Reckless.
Stupid.
He was supposed to be on guard, always, especially here, in a palace teeming with intrigue, where trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.
Sure, he wouldn’t expect danger in these halls under normal circumstances, but that was no excuse.
He’d let his defenses slip, lulled by the thrill of the night, and now he stood unard, vulnerable.
He swore to himself then and there, never again.
From this mont, he’d keep his sword, or at least a dagger, close at all tis.
No more chances.
The boy stood motionless, watching him, and Gon squared his shoulders, sizing him up.
He was ard, a longsword sheathed at his hip, its hilt worn but well-kept, and his physique was impressive, all lean muscle and quiet strength.
Not extraordinary, though, no hulking giant or scarred brute.
Gon’s mind raced, calculating.
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