Chapter 20 #2
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.
And without meaning to, Thalos' hands slid from her belly.
Gliding…
… up.
To cup the swollen weight of her breasts. He found them ripe. Full. Perfect little handfuls that spilled over his fingers when he kneaded the fat and found her nipples. Already beaded tight, already stiff enough to roll between forefinger and thumb.
Kore fell apart with a sob. Cunt seizing around them, she was a vice of muscle. Merciless and unyielding, banded tight, locking them both in place for one impossible moment before she ignited.
A blinding detonation of color lit her scales in a violent aurora.
Her spine arched, body bowed between them. Clenching and milking, she pulsed around them. Agonizing, slow pulls that forced Thalos’ head back.
Groaning, he mimicked her.
Milking her nipples in that same pattern. Long, deep pulls.
A plume of electric blue jetted into the current between kings.
Nyxarion froze.
Eyes wide, Thalos hesitated.
It was thick. Luminous. Creamy and sweet, curling through the current in intoxicating ribbons.
And for an instant, there was silence.
But it didn’t last.
The sound loosed from Nyxarion’s throat was triumph. A roar of pure, uncut celebration. Primal and deafening, it was a declaration of war and victory united in a single breath. A single, savage note that would carry throughout the Black Sea.
And then he moved.
Hips driving forward with a ferocity that bordered on violence, he fucked into her. Desperate, claiming strokes that slammed through the crush of shared flesh and forced Thalos to brace. Clinging to the delicate Siren, made helpless by the strength of the other.
Enormous hands shoved Thalos' fingers aside when Nyx claimed her breasts for himself.
Greedy and frantic. Palms engulfing the swollen weight, he kneaded. More long pulls that dragged at her flesh.
A plume of blue milk spilled between his fingers.
Luminous. Unmistakable when it spiraled into the current and perfumed the tide with the lucious aroma of vibrant life. Each squeeze sent another jet spilling into the water.
“There’s my glorious girl,” Nyxarion snarled, laughing as he fucked her.
Fucked them both. “Just needed time to make milk for me, did you?” he whispered, and pressed his forehead to her collarbone.
But his hands didn’t stop. Milking her with a reverence that matched the tempo of his hips.
“Perfect thing. Carrying my spawn, getting ready to nurse it like only an Abyssari might.”
Thalos was pinned.
Every nerve in his body screaming for relief. Each of Nyxarion's thrusts drove them together, shaft to shaft, friction and heat and slick blended into something that washed him away and swept him under.
His orgasm hit without warning.
Twisting his spine, it fired through him in a cascade of blinding ecstasy.
Forcing his every muscle rigid, locked tight.
Thalos came so hard his vision dissolved into a wash of prickling nothing.
Painting her cunt with a thick, desperate flood that had nowhere to go.
Trapped against Nyxarion's shaft. Forced back around him in obscene, milky heat.
Instinct forced his jaws open.
Snarling through the wreckage of his composure, Thalos struck.
Fangs buried in the meat of Kore's shoulder—opposite to the space Nyxarion had claimed. He bit through scale and skin and emptied his venom sacs in a single, savage flood. Pumping her full. Giving her what the child demanded.
Kore went boneless between them.
Every rigid line of resistance dissolved as the haze swamped her bloodstream. Pliant. Wrenched open. Muscles unlocking around them both as her body surrendered to the narcotic frost of Asterion venom bleeding through her veins.
A whimper bled from her gills. Soft and drugged and helpless—but that was all.
Coming unhinged, Nyxarion tipped his head. Lips closing over one swollen nipple, he drank. Pulling at her breast, throat working, he swallowed that sweet milk in crude gulps.
But he didn’t stop. Chasing his own end, careless of the way his cock moved against Thalos’, he fucked her. Pace dissolving, his strokes ragged and uneven.
And when Nyxarion came, Thalos felt every pulse.
Each thick, shuddering throb traveled through shared flesh.
It bled through the impossibly tight seal of Kore's body.
Oozing and thick. Every jet pumped against Thalos' oversensitive cock until Nyxarion's release gushed around him.
Searing hot, impossibly lewd. He filled her in rolling waves that seemed to have no end.
Thalos shuddered. Teeth still buried in her shoulder, venom spent, he hung there. Wrecked. Hollowed out. Feeling a king's victory echo through his own body while blue milk clouded the water around them.
When Nyx’s hips finally began to slow as he worked through the last shuddering ropes and let it ebb into nothing, Thalos unclenched.
Forced his jaws to part and released his hold on her nape. Crooning, he nuzzled into her pulse. Tongue dragging across the wounds he’d left, lapping at the ragged edges where scale met torn skin.
Hips rocking in lazy, contented strokes, he sluiced through the mess. Dragging it out. Reveling in the messy froth. Creamy. Filthy. Utterly perfect.
He loosed a breath against her pulse, heart hammering behind his ribs.
And then he felt it.
Temperature plummeting against his lips.
Wrong.
Pulling back, brow furrowed, Thalos looked.
The sunset was dying.
Gold bled to ash. Violet drained to grey. Every gorgeous, impossible color that marked her as alive was leeching from her scales in a slow, creeping tide that spread from her scalp. A frost creeping through the divine flame.
Wrong.
White.
Sickly, translucent white.
Wrongwrongwrongwrongwrong—
"Nyx"—his voice cracked—"Nyxarion."