Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

She was finally holding the man who had walked through fire and void and the hells between lifetimes—yet never once looked back to see the one who'd silently followed, protecting the Balance while silently breaking under its cost, loving him from a distance that felt like beautiful torture.

His hands lifted, tentative at first, brushing her cheeks as if they were carved from the most delicate starlight. But when she leaned into his touch with a soft sigh that sounded like coming home, something fundamental shifted.

His fingers slipped into her hair, undoing the precision of her ancient bun with deliberate care, letting raven strands fall in rivers down her back like shadows surrendering to moonlight.

Her hands, long used to guiding cosmic flows and governing equilibrium across infinite realities, now trembled as they slid down his chest.

There was power beneath his skin—yes, reality-bending, world-breaking, absolutely insane levels of power—but there was heat too. Human warmth. A pulse that matched hers beat for beat, proof that beneath all that cosmic authority, he was still beautifully, perfectly alive.

Clothes didn't vanish with a divine snap. No—this wasn't about convenience or flashy magic. This was sacred as hell. Slow. Earned through millennia of patient waiting and careful longing that had nearly driven them both mad.

She unbuttoned his collar with hands that had steadied galaxies, and he undid the fastenings of her robe with fingers that had carved dominion into the fabric of the void. Their lips met again and again—sometimes gently, sometimes desperately, like they were making up for all the kisses they hadn't dared to steal over the millennia, all the moments of "what if" that had stretched between them like unspoken promises.

The room shifted around them, reality bending to accommodate their need.

They weren't in a throne hall, or a sanctum, or some cold celestial dimension anymore. No. The training space folded into something softer, warmer, more intimate—more human.

A bed of stardust and stormlight unfurled beneath them—woven from her essence, his desire, and the concept of finally having what they were always meant to share. The light dimmed into a pulsing silver-blue glow, like the heartbeat of the universe holding its breath to watch them finally stop being idiots about this.

When he laid her down, it wasn't with domination or desperate hunger. It was with reverence, like she was a secret he'd just learned to love out loud.

And when her fingers curled around his wrist, guiding him closer, her breath caught not because she was overwhelmed—but because she finally, finally wasn't alone in this feeling that had been eating her alive for eons.

Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, and the connection ignited.

Not with fire.

Not even with lightning.

But with Balance—raw, blinding, soul-deep symmetry that made every nerve, every cell, every fragment of their being sing in perfect fucking harmony. Their energies fused like twin stars caught in orbit, burning brighter with each touch, each movement, each whisper of breath.

His lips traced a deliberate path down her throat, pausing at the curve of her collarbone where his power had once claimed hers through Plunder.

She gasped—part memory, part pleasure—as she arched beneath him, legs parting to welcome not just his body, but his entire existence into the space she'd kept sacred for him across lifetimes.

Parker didn't rush her. Didn't rush himself either.

He had all the time in existence—and for the first time in countless lifetimes, he was willing to spend every precious second of it on this moment, on her, on them.

His thumb brushed along her jawline, tracing the soft, trembling edge of her composure with devastating gentleness. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes casting shadows on cheeks warmed by something far more human than cosmic light.

He leaned in—not to conquer, not to claim—but to devour her slowly, as if memorizing the taste of someone who had always belonged to him in some buried corner of his soul.

Their lips met again. Not like the kiss before, not that seismic crash of revelation and release. This was slower, deeper, hungrier in ways that made her toes curl and her breath catch. His mouth moved against hers with deliberate purpose, savoring every sigh she couldn't hold back, the way her hands clutched at his shirt like she was scared he might vanish again if she let go.

Her body melted into him like she was made of starlight and surrender. Her armor—emotional—cracked with every second he kissed her, every gentle touch that said "I see you, I've always seen you, and I'm sorry it took me so damn long to get here."

He tilted his head, deepened the kiss, dragged his teeth gently over her lower lip just to feel her gasp against him.

Gods, that sound.

It awakened something primal inside him—not violent, not savage, just beautifully, perfectly real. The part of him that had been locked away behind cosmic duty and multiversal responsibility suddenly roared back to life.

He kissed her like a man who had forgotten what it felt like to want someone this desperately. And now, he remembered everything.

Her hands slid up his chest, palms roaming the lines of muscle and divinity beneath his skin with growing confidence. But when she reached his shoulders, he caught her wrists—not to stop her, but to hold them in place above her head. Pinning her softly against the shimmering air, he broke the kiss just enough to look at her with eyes that blazed with newfound heat.

"Don't move," he murmured, voice low and threaded with promise rather than command. "Let me worship you the way you deserve."

Zhang Ruoyun nodded, breathless, lips slightly parted and swollen from his kisses, her chest rising and falling beneath her robe like her heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest. And then he leaned in again—not to kiss her mouth this time.

He kissed her jaw with deliberate slowness.

Then lower.

His mouth moved down her neck with devastating focus, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses that made her thighs clench and her breath catch in desperate little pulses. He tasted her pulse point, let his tongue linger there until she squirmed beneath him—just slightly—and he smiled against her skin like he'd just discovered his new favorite addiction.

"You're trembling," he whispered, dragging his lips across the curve of her throat with maddening precision.