Chapter 277- Nano’s Pleading
Both at once.
Her lips closing around one, then the other, the warm, wet suction of her mouth enveloping him while her tongue pressed and rolled in careful, attentive circles.
His groan came from somewhere low in his chest.
The sound of it moving through his whole frame.
’He makes that sound.’ ’That exact sound.’ ’I know that sound from somewhere I cannot access and I am making it happen right now and I cannot stop and I do not want to stop.’
"Fuuuck—" He exhaled. His hips kept driving into Sugar, the rhythm maintaining itself. "Yes. Just like that, Nano. Suck them while I ruin this tight cunt."
PAH! PAH! PAH!
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!"
The vibrations from her mouth traveled up his shaft.
She felt him twitch.
Felt the specific, immediate response of a body receiving something that was working.
She sucked harder.
His hand reached around Sugar.
Found her breast from the front.
Grabbed.
The full-fingered grip closing around the soft flesh and squeezing with the same proprietary certainty he applied to everything.
"Aaaahhhnnn~!! It hurts—" Sugar’s voice broke. "My boob— you’re pulling too hard— Hnnghhh~!!"
Her large breasts jiggled violently with each thrust, the flesh reddening under his grip, her tears running faster.
He looked down at Nano.
"Suck her tit."
He said it the way he said everything.
Flat. Certain.
Sugar’s tear-streaked face was level with Nano’s small, perky chest from their respective positions.
Sugar sobbed.
And obeyed.
Her mouth finding Nano’s left nipple and closing around it.
"Mmmphh... slurrpp—"
Nano’s breath hitched.
The chain of it — his balls in her mouth, Sugar’s mouth on her nipple, his cock in Sugar, all of them connected through him like a circuit he had drawn and closed on his own terms.
’He always did this.’ ’In the past life.’ ’He always found ways to make the architecture of a situation point at him.’ ’Everything flows through him.’ ’Everything comes back to him.’
She sucked harder.
Her free hand found Sugar’s thigh from below — not rough, not tender, just present, fingers pressing against the inside of Sugar’s knee where the skin was fever-warm.
Sugar’s moan against her nipple changed pitch.
PAH! PAH! PAAAH!
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! ’I’m—’~!! OUNGH~!! NGH~!!"
He came.
The full, sustained release of a man who had been building toward this since the moment the portal opened in the laboratory — his hips grinding to the absolute base, his cock buried to the root inside Sugar, the load releasing in long, powerful pulses that made her walls clench and flutter around him in the full, helpless seize of a body receiving exactly what it had been demanding for the last several hours.
"AAAAAAHHH~!! ’IT’S FILLING ME’~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!"
Sugar’s orgasm hit simultaneously.
Her whole body convulsing against the console, her handcuffed wrists pressing flat against the surface, her one airborne leg dropping as her muscles gave, her walls milking every pulse of him with the continuous, rhythmic clench of a cunt that had decided to take everything offered.
Nano pulled off his balls.
Sat back on her heels.
Watched.
Sugar’s legs trembling. His cock buried. The seed running from the junction of them in a thin, white thread that dripped from the edge of the console to the laboratory floor.
He pulled out.
The wet, distinct sound of a cock clearing a well-used body.
Sugar gasped at the emptiness.
Fell forward onto the console.
"Sob—" "I can’t—" "Not anymore—" Her voice was barely above breath.
Nano leaned forward.
She didn’t plan to.
Her tongue came out and licked his cock from the base upward in one long, flat stroke.
Then again.
The mixed taste of Sugar and him and the faint iron of blood and the heavy salt of seed, all of it settling on her tongue with the complicated, filthy honesty of something she was choosing to do in front of forty-three screens with the full knowledge that no amount of self-recrimination was going to make her stop.
"Mmm—" "So delicious—" Her voice was small. Ashamed. Her cheeks burning. "Your cock, covered in her—"
"Good girl." His hand closed in her hair. "Clean it all up."
She cried out softly at the pull.
Kept licking.
He pulled her up by the hair.
Her small body rising from the floor, her knees coming up, her feet finding the ground.
His other hand found the edge of the nearby work surface — the low table against the wall where the secondary monitors sat, where equipment was piled, where a box of chips packets had been contributing to the archaeology of Nano’s working habits.
He threw her.
Not rough enough to injure.
Rough enough that she landed on the low surface with a bounce, the chips packets scattering and crackling underneath her, her small body settling in the middle of the mess with her hair spread around her.
"Ahh~!" "Cruxius— that hurt—"
He had already turned away.
Reached for one of the energy drinks on the console.
Cracked it open.
Tilted it back.
His cock hanging heavy and semi-hard between his legs, still twitching, still glistening from Nano’s tongue.
He drank.
Looked at her over the can.
"Pull your hoodie up, Nano."
She was not wearing the hoodie.
He knew she was not wearing the hoodie.
The words were not about the hoodie.
"Show me what’s mine."
Nano’s hands trembled.
She looked at her own body.
At the thin white panties still clinging to her mound, the cotton so soaked it had gone translucent, her inner lips visible through the fabric in the full brightness of forty-three screens.
She started to comply slowly.
His hand shot forward.
Grabbed the neckline of the remnant of fabric she still had — not the hoodie, gone long ago, but the thin undershirt she had been wearing beneath it that had ended up bunched at her waist.
He tore it.
One motion.
The fabric giving with the sharp, flat sound of cotton losing the argument with intention.
Her breasts spilled free.
Small. Perfectly round. Milky-white in the screen-light, the brown nipples already stiff and pointing at him with the directness of nipples that had been at this level of attention for a long time.
Her stomach flat.
The white panties the only thing remaining, soaked dark at the center.
The faint hair visible under her arms where her arms came up reflexively to cover herself.
He looked at her.
The flat, unhurried look.
The corner of his mouth.
"You’re still exactly like that, Nano." Low. Carrying the warmth of recognition. "No bra under the hoodie." His eyes moved. "Didn’t even shave." The corner of his mouth moved further. "My natural little slut."
Her face went scarlet.
"I didn’t think— please don’t look—"
He picked up the energy drink.
Tilted it.
Poured the cold liquid directly over her breasts.
The gasp came from the depth of her.
The icy cold hitting her warm skin with the immediate, full-body shock of a temperature that has not been invited, her nipples hardening to the point of aching, her spine arching off the surface.
"What are you doing—" "It’s so cold— ahhnn~!!"
The liquid ran down the curves of her breasts.
Down her sternum.
Pooled at her navel.
Ran further.
Soaking into the waistband of her white panties and spreading through the cotton with the specific, indifferent thoroughness of liquid finding every available surface.
He leaned over her.
His mouth found her left breast.
The cold skin and the hot mouth, simultaneous.
"Mmmphh~!! Slurrrpp~!!"
He sucked hard.
His tongue working in circles around the stiff, frozen peak, pulling it between his lips, the drink and the warmth of his mouth mixing on her skin.
"Ahhh~!!" "It hurts—" "But feels—" "Hnnghhh~!!"
His free hand found her right breast.
Two fingers and a thumb.
The pinch arriving sharp and deliberate, rolling the nipple with the pressure he knew exactly how to apply.
She cried out.
Her back arched further.
A chips packet crinkled under her shoulder blade.
He was grinding.
She felt it through the panties — his cock, semi-hard and growing, pressing against her covered mound with slow, deliberate rolls of his hips. The weight of him against the soaked fabric. The friction building through the thin cotton against her clit with every movement.
’He is getting hard again.’ ’Against my panties.’ ’While sucking my breast.’ ’While she is right there on the console.’ ’While he has already—’ ’He is going to—’
Her hands found his shoulders.
Her nails dug in.
He stood.
She looked up.
From this angle.
His cock at full length above her.
The shadow it cast across her gasping body — from the tip of his crown downward across her marked breasts, the red teeth impressions, the pink skin of where he had pinched her — the shadow moving slightly with his breathing.
The thickness of it.
The veins running its length visible from below.
The cockhead flushed crimson, a thin bead of pre-cum at the slit.
The heavy, full balls below.
From this angle, lying flat and small on the low surface, he looked like something her body remembered from a context she couldn’t access directly but that her cunt was currently referencing with complete, involuntary accuracy.
She was wet.
Past wet.
Her panties useless.
"Do you know," he said.
Low. Deliberate. His hand stroking himself once, slowly, his eyes on her face.
"Your pussy was my favourite."
He let the sentence sit.
"When it came to tightness."
He stroked again.
"My dear Nano."
"Cruxius—" Her voice came out small. Her hands reaching up toward him. "Please— be gentle— it’s been so long—"
He reached forward.
Found the waistband of her white panties.
Pulled them up.
Slowly.
The soaked fabric dragging across her outer lips, pulling inward, the wet cotton outlining every fold of her with the obscene detail of a fabric that has been soaked long enough to stop pretending.
Up.
The elastic stretching.
He held it there.
Taut over her mound.
Her eyes locked on his face.
SNAP.
"AHHH~!!" "The rubber— it stung my—" "Ow—"