NOVEL WEB Chapter 29: Right, There’s Still A Smut Tag On This Shoujo Novel (18+)
She tip toes forward again, but this time, he catches her chin. Slanting his head against her and eases her mouth open. She giggles,
“You’re so sly.”
“I’m just glad you’re alive too.” She lets herself melt beneath his touch. Taking a shuddering breath. A slow sweet gesture. He backs her into the bank. Lifting her out of the water. Seating her on the grassy shore above him. The night air is bitingly cold, but she’s already lost herself in implications as he nestles between her legs to nibble up her thigh. She’s probably smiling way too eagerly when she asks,
“Is this my reward for surviving?” he flicks her a reading gaze, prying her knees apart,
“More of granting your overdue wish from when we first met.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t have my mind in the gutter back then.”
“Sure, you didn’t.” he says unconvincedly before pressing his lips.
It instantly makes her hiss,
“Okay, maybe I did.” A reflex compelling her to tangle a hand into his hair. His breaths are hot, his tongue is soft, he’s being gentle with suction. God. Is there anything he isn’t good at? She goes slack. Mesmerizing the moonlight beading on his lashes. Batting with each blink. The sharpness of his pupils, fuzzing into a soft glow. Getting lost in the rising steam. The glister of saliva and her fluids trailing down the corner of his mouth to his throat. How does he look this picturesque eating her out? She can probably be undone by the sight alone. And his fluency only encourages.
Slowly teasing her into ripening urgency before increasing the intensity. She bites a moan into her knuckles. He slips his fingers inside. Kneading against a spot that makes her entire body sore. Curling over his shoulder. He harshly drags her hips forward. A tightening pull sinking, lower, lower, lower to knot inside her pelvis. Like waves receding from a cliff. It’s making her squeeze her thighs around him but he just wrenches her legs apart. She wheezes,
“Soril, I think I’m going to cum.” he gets rougher to push her over the edge. And it crashes white hot. Pouring though her veins in splutters. She squints her eyes shut. Trying to catch her breath. Hyperventilating until the gratification wears off and turns into over-stimulation. She’s struggling, tapping against his shoulder for mercy,
“Too sensitive!” to get him lifting his face up. He lays against her lap,
“I thought women don’t have refractory periods.”
“You still got to give me one second to recover.”
“One.” he cheekily counts before yanking her back into the water by the ankles with a loud splash as she’s still asking,
“Do you want a returned favor?” he chuckles at her suggestion,
“And have an Angel on her knees for me? I definitely won’t start power tripping.”
“Then aren’t you glad I offered.” but he’s hooking beneath her knees. Picking her up to spread her against his hips, there’s a certain impatience to his actions,
“Tempting as it sounds. Do it next time.” Grinding his cock against her. Despite he’s good at hiding arousal on his face. He’s rock hard and restless. She teases him,
“Giving me oral turned you on this much?”
“It’s hard not to be turned on when I’m infatuated with you.” and it seizes her heart. He really doesn’t play fair. She slips a hand against his nape, pulling herself forward to bump foreheads, with the other, she lines him up,
“Go on. Fuck me then.” He slowly pushes inside. It hitches a rasp in her throat. She almost forgot how brutally thick he is. Gaping her out like a wine bottle. She sees literal stars. He eases her in with shallow thrusts. But his kisses are wild. An aching kept restrained, and it’s only slowly untangling, untangling, with each beat before he’s completely mercilessly pounding into her cervix. Slamming her entire weight against him. Flushing her blood hotter than the spring water they’re violently splashing around them. She thinks even her brain’s going to melt. Her senses are still crazy heightened post coital and now it just constantly feels she’s tethering the verge of an orgasm.
She’s holding him tightly when she repeatedly moans into his mouth like a pleading lullaby,
“Soril, harder. Soril, faster, Soril, Soril, Soril.” It casts a rigidity over his shoulders when he pulls apart. There’s something encapsulating about the way he looks at her with a breathless smile,
“Stop using that voice to say my name. I’m going to develop a weird complex about it.”
“Why? Are you going to get a boner now whenever someone calls for you?”
“Maybe.” And she can’t help but laugh. For five centuries she’s been alive, it’s almost weird she hasn’t once associated sex like this. Light-hearted yet so intimate it rattles her even to her bones. His hands; her thighs, her grip; his hair. A reckless exchange of kisses. Mismatching of heartbeats. Brutality in sensuality. He’s so deep in her, it almost carves her soul in his marks and she probably will not mind. Then the immensity must collapse. A flash of stammering pleasure to throw her head back. Screams. She drags him with her in her ecstasy. Squeezing him tight, until he’s swearing,
“Fuck, Lumer-” He’s trying to pull out, she locks him in with her legs,
“Finish inside.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.” He does writhing. A fierce bite into her neck. Rammed to the hip. Flooding wet heat. And he thinks about the repercussions all too late until he’s found complete clarity. He asks through bated breaths,
“Wait. Are you sure that was okay? I don’t want to sire a child yet.” despite he doesn’t attempt to part. She spends a moment to catch her breath, then she reassures him with a raspy giggle,
“I found out the other time that Bathory is a plot convenient contraceptive.”
“You could’ve told me that quicker. I started picturing becoming a single father. It’s dreadful.”
“You’re already certain that I’m going to ditch you?”
His expression softens at those words. Looking her with a sad smile and quietly acknowledges,
“You’re not from this world. You will leave eventually.” There’s such a melancholic note to his voice. Then he stops her from analyzing him with her gaze. Pressing her head into his neck. Holding her in a firm embrace. As if he’s wordlessly conveying that he wishes she won’t. And something cracks inside her. Yet she can’t tell him anything other than a weak,
“Yeah...” laying against his shoulder. She sighs towards the ethereally moon washed forest,
“That’s true.” Why does she feel so suffocated all of the sudden? It’s funny. Just when did she grow so attached to this gory place filled with nothing but schemes and slaughter?
