Chapter 406 - 405- Celestia’s Melting Body
Viktor’s breath scraped against her ear like gravel — the rhythm of his hips guttering from long strokes into something shorter, harder, meaner, each thrust punching a grunt out of his chest and a wet slap out of where they joined.
She could feel the change.
’That thick thing — shorter now, faster — the blunt head of it hitting the same deep spot over and over like it was trying to mark something.’
’My insides are going soft and hot and I can’t —’
He pulled out.
Not finished — repositioning — his hands finding her thighs and folding her, pushing her knees up and forward until both legs were pressed against her own breasts, her calves over his shoulders, her body bent nearly in half under his weight.
Her hairy cunt tilted upward. Open. Presented.
She barely had time to register the new angle before he drove back in.
PAAAH!!
"AAGHH—!!"
Deeper. Impossibly deeper. The folded position had rearranged her insides and the blunt crown of him punched through to a place that had never been touched and her warrior’s body, which had taken cavalry charges and sword wounds and two hundred miles of winter saddle, had absolutely no response framework for this.
PAH! PAH! PAH!
"Hnngh~!! Ahh~!! HNNNK~!!!"
Each thrust shunted her backward, her shoulders grinding against the floor, her heavy tits compressed between her knees and her chest and swinging with the impact, nipples dragging against her own thighs and leaving them dark pink and leaking at the tips.
’Too deep — the long thick thing is going somewhere that’s making the edges of everything go white — I need him to stop — I need —’
"N— stop — that’s — ngh — too—"
PAAAH!!
"HIEKK~!!!"
The word dissolved.
Her hands scrabbled at the floor — not fighting him off, just scrabbling, fingers finding no purchase, her warrior’s discipline coming apart seam by seam under the rhythm of him folding her in half and using her, the wet filthy sound of her own soaked cunt swallowing him over and over filling the hut.
PAH! PAH! PAAAH!!
"Oungh~!! Ah~!! AAANHH~!!"
Viktor’s jaw was tight. His eyes were on her face — watching it, the way the lines between fury and undoing had stopped being lines at all, the flush running from her cheeks down her throat to her chest, her eyes glassy and wide and struggling to focus on anything.
’Will she kill me when she wakes up?’
The thought arrived calm and genuinely uncertain as he slammed into her again.
PAAAH!!
"—NGHH—!!"
Her voice was just sound now. Not words. Not even the shape of words.
Then he stopped.
Not done. Not even close.
He pulled back, got a knee under himself, and stood — and his hands, already familiar with the geography of her by now, hooked under her lower back and hauled her up off the floor with him.
She had a half-second of cold air and weightlessness.
’Wait — what — why am I —’
Her legs wrapped around him on reflex. Warrior’s reflex. Body finding balance before her brain caught up to the situation, thighs locking at his hips, and she felt the blunt head of him still pressed at her entrance from below, her soaked cunt lips parting around it just from the angle of gravity pulling her down.
He let her drop.
PAAAH!!
"AAANKK~!!"
The full weight of her coming down onto him drove every inch home in one vertical slam — her own body became the force behind the thrust — and the sound that tore out of her chest was not a word, not a warrior’s noise, nothing she would ever confess to making.
’I — he — the whole thing — it’s all the way up — something in my stomach — I can feel —’
Her nails found his back. Drew red lines she didn’t register drawing.
He walked her to the wall.
Pressed her spine flat against the rough timber, hands cupped under her thighs, and started moving — short brutal upward strokes, gravity and his hips working in the same direction, the wet slap of her cunt against his base ringing off the low ceiling.
PAH! PAH! PAH!
"Hngh~!! Ungh~!! HIIEK~!!!"
The wall was cold against her back. His chest was furnace-hot against her front. The contrast ran through her like a current and her nipples, already swollen and leaking, scraped against him with every thrust and left wet smears of herself on his skin.
’This is humiliating. I am being used against a wall like a — like a — his cock keeps hitting that place and I can’t — I can’t think past —’
PAAAH!!
"AANGHH~!!!"
Her head knocked back against the timber.
Viktor’s mouth found her throat — not gentle — teeth dragging over the salt of her, jaw tight, breath coming through his nose in rough measured pulls while his hips kept working, the slick ring of her cunt stretched white-pale around his shaft each time he dropped her down onto him.
A drop fell.
Then another.
Their mixed slick was running down his base, down her inner thighs, and from this height it had somewhere to fall — the steady quiet drip of it hitting the floor below them, the small dark spreading patch on the wood that grew with every thrust.
’I can hear it. I can hear me dripping. I can hear what he’s done to me just — falling.’
She clenched around him without meaning to.
His breath went ragged against her neck.
PAH! PAH! PAAAH!!
"Mngh~!! AH~!! HNNNGGHH~!!!"
Her thighs were shaking. Not from effort. From the rhythmic voltage of it, the deep vertical punch of him hitting that ruined place inside her over and over while her own weight worked against her, and she could feel each drip leaving her body, could hear each one touch the floor, and the shame of that sound was doing something to her that she had no word for.
"You—" The word came out cracked. "Put me — down —"
PAAAH!!
"—NGHKK—!!"
He didn’t.
He adjusted her instead — one arm coming across her lower back for better leverage, tilting her hips forward, and the next thrust came at an angle that drove the broad blunt crown of him directly up into the place her body had been losing its mind over for the last twenty minutes.
Her legs stopped gripping. Went slack. Limp.
’I can’t — my legs — why won’t my —’