The kiss began softly. An exploration. Lips against lips, hesitant at first, then deepening with a growing urgency. I could taste the special wine we'd been drinking, sweet, forbidden, with a hint of distant stars, mingled with something that was purely, unmistakably, her.
And her hand, which had been resting on the mattress, crept up slowly, seeking purchase, until it found my hair. Her fingers twined through the long strands and, then—
She touched my ear.
By accident, probably. Her hand simply drifted a little too high in its search for support, and her fingers, with a touch that would have been innocent to anyone else, lightly brushed against the sensitive base of my wolf-like ear.
And the sound that escaped me was completely, utterly involuntary.
And dreadfully embarrassing.
Erza, in response, froze.
"Was that… a sound?"
"It was nothing," my voice came out an octave higher, almost a squeak. "It was absolutely nothing."
"You most certainly made a noise."
"No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did." She frowned, her brain clearly processing the new information at an alarming speed. "You said, back in Hosenka, that your ears were sensitive. But I didn't imagine it was… quite like this."
I felt my face heat to a temperature that could probably forge steel. "It's not that bad."
"Azra'il," she said, with an almost scientific seriousness. "You whimpered."
"I DID N—" I stopped. Took a deep breath, trying to reclaim my lost composure. "It was a sound of… uh… surprise. That's all. Surprise."
"It was a whimper."
"Erza."
"A rather clear and audible whimper, in fact."
"ERZA."
She looked at me for a moment, the gears in her mind turning. And then, very slowly, a mischievous grin, a grin I had never, ever seen on her face before, began to form.
(Oh, no. No, no, no. I've created a monster.)
"So… this is why you avoid letting other people touch your ears," she said.
"I let people—"
"You snarl at Natsu every single time he tries."
"That's because Natsu is an idiot and has sticky hands—"
"And you always subtly pull your head away when Lucy or even Happy try to give you a fondle."
"That's because it's—"
"Because it's a sensitive spot, I know very well." Her grin widened.
And, with a deliberate and absolutely cruel slowness, she, with her thumb, brushed over my ear again.
My entire body shuddered. My tail whipped out, thrashing with enough force to lift some of the rose petals from the bed. And the sound that escaped me was even louder and more embarrassing than the first.
"ERZA! YOU TYRANT!"
"This," she said, with a triumphant glint in her eyes and the most smug smile I had ever seen, "is my sweet and well-deserved revenge." Her smile, suddenly, became almost… predatory. "For all the countless times you, with your teasing, have made me blush."
"This isn't even slightly fair—"
And she, the little red-haired demoness, stroked my ear again, this time with more intent, and I almost saw stars.
"E-Erza, stop it. If you keep doing that, I… I won't be able to control myself—"
And she stopped. The mischievous grin was replaced by genuine curiosity.
"Control… what?"
With a monumental effort, I took a deep breath, desperately trying to regain some semblance of control over my own treacherous body.
"You, my dear and innocent Titania," I said, my voice a little shaky, "have not the faintest idea what you're doing to me."
The roles, in some inexplicable way, had completely reversed. I, the entity of millennia, the seducer of goddesses, the experienced one, was now trembling like a leaf because of a redhead who had just discovered my greatest weak spot.
"Sorry," Erza said, sounding genuinely concerned now. "I… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just teasing and—"
I kissed her. To shut her up. And to shut myself up.
It wasn't a soft kiss this time. It was a kiss that contained all the frustration built up over the last few minutes, all the desire I was desperately trying to control, all of my surrender to this woman.
Erza gasped in surprise against my mouth, and I seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, my hand moving down to her waist, pulling her harder against me.
"You want to play, Erza Scarlet?" I murmured against her lips, feeling her tremble under my touch. "Then let's play. Because two can play this game."
And, before she could even think to respond, I lowered my lips to her neck, and then to that sensitive spot most people have, just below the ear.
The moan that escaped her lips was like music to my ears.
With her eyes wide with mortification, Erza immediately brought a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound.
"No, no. None of that." I gently pulled her hand away. "You made me whimper. Fair is fair. Now it's your turn."
"This isn't— ah!"
With a small, victorious smirk, I lightly sucked on the sensitive spot on her neck, and she arched her body against mine, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her entire being responding instantly to my touch.
"F-fair," she managed to say, her breath short and heavy. "This… this isn't the least bit fair."
"You started it, redhead."
"But I… I didn't know that… hm… that it would be like this."
"Like what, exactly?" And I kissed another sensitive spot on her neck, moving slowly down towards her shoulder, feeling her soft skin goose-pimple beneath my lips.
"Like… so… intense." Her voice was failing, each word seeming to cost more effort than the last. "Azra'il…"
And the way she, in that moment, said my name, almost like a plea, a surrender, was doing very dangerous things to my already embattled self-control.
Our bodies, in their search for more contact, pressed against each other.
And, suddenly, she felt it.
I saw the exact moment she realised. Her eyes, previously hazy with desire, widened. And her face, which was already flushed, turned an even deeper shade of red, if such a thing were possible.
"Azra'il… is that… is that what I'm feeling…?"
It had been a long time since I'd been this hard and this aroused. It was impossible to hide now, with our bodies so close. The pressure between us was almost painful. And dreadfully obvious.
"Sorry," I said, in a fit of panic, trying to pull away, mortified by my own treacherous physical reaction. "I didn't mean to—"
"Don't!" Her hand, which had been on my shoulder, shot down and grabbed my hip with surprising strength, keeping me exactly where I was.
"It's… it's not bad. I just…" She swallowed, clearly trying to process the new and unexpected information. "I just didn't… I wasn't expecting to feel… you. Like this, in this way."
"I… I can move away."
"I don't want you to move away."
And her words hung in the tense air between us, a permission. An invitation.
And she pulled me back.
When our bodies met again, this time it was she who moved first. A small movement. Hesitant. Almost experimental. Her hips, timidly, pressing against mine.
And I groaned. I couldn't help it. The sound escaped me before I could even think to contain it.
"Was… was that good?" she asked, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and a growing confidence.
"Very good," my voice came out hoarse, almost unrecognisable. "Please… do it again."
And she did.
And again.
And gradually, on that soft bed, in the dim light of our room, we found a rhythm. Slow. Hesitant. Like two bodies trying to learn, for the first time, each other's secret language. But every movement, every bit of friction, sent waves of pure, overwhelming pleasure through my entire body, each touch bringing me ever closer to a limit I was desperately trying not to cross. At least, not yet.
My tail, of course, was completely out of control by now, thumping from side to side on the mattress as if it had a life of its own. And my ears were laid flat back, a clear sign that I, the great and powerful Azra'il, was losing my composure.
"Azra'il…" And her voice, now, was different too. Heavier. More needful. "I… I'm feeling… a warmth. Here. Between my legs. Is… is it normal to feel this?"
And her confession, so innocent, so honest and so disarming, almost completely undid me.
"Yes, Erza. It's very normal," I managed to say, my voice hoarse. "It means you're… aroused."
"And… and you? You've been like this… since when, exactly?"
"Since the exact moment you, gloriously, emerged from that duvet cocoon of yours."
Her eyes, which were already wide, went even wider. "Th-the whole time?!"
"The whole time," I admitted, no longer having the strength or the will to hide anything more from her. "You, redhead, have not the faintest idea of the effect you have on me."
She looked down, to the exact point where our bodies met, and blushed so violently I could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.
"I can… I can feel you. Right here. Against me."
"I know. I'm sorry if it's—"
"Don't." With a movement that almost made me lose the rest of my control, she bit her lower lip. "Don't apologise. It's… it's good. It's strange. But it's very good."
And I, unable to contain myself, kissed her again.
This time, as we kissed, she continued to move against me. Small hip movements, each one more confident, more daring than the last, that were driving me completely mad. And when I lowered my lips to her neck again, she, instinctively, tilted her head back, giving me more access, a silent and tempting offer.
"Azra'il…"
"Hm?"
"More."
And the word, so simple, so quiet, and so laden with a pure need, broke something inside me.
I pressed her down with more force. The delicious friction between our bodies, even through the thin layers of our pyjamas, was bringing me to the brink of complete and utter madness. Every movement of hers against me, every small sound that escaped her lips, every subtle tremor of her body beneath mine…
And then, to my beautiful undoing, her hand, which had been at my hips, moved up. And caressed my ear again.
And the groan that escaped me was, for all intents and purposes, obscene. There was no other, more polite way to describe that sound. It was the kind of sound I had never made in front of anyone in this life.
"S-sensitive," I managed to say, my whole body trembling.
"I know," she said, and she continued to caress it, slowly and deliberately, as she moved against me, her fingers tracing the base of my ear with a devastating and almost sadistic precision. "It's only fair now, isn't it? You know what my sensitive spots are. And I know what yours are."
"Erza… please… if you keep… I'm going to…"
"Going to what, Azra'il?"
I had no more words to answer. My entire body was on fire. My tail was thrashing frantically, completely out of control. And my ears were trembling under her touch, hypersensitive to every movement of her fingers.
It was then, in a rare moment of lucidity, that I noticed.
Her hands. The hand that was on my ear. It… it was shaking.
Not from pleasure. But from nervousness.
She was forcing herself to be bold. Trying to be brave. But inside, beneath all that newfound confidence, she was still the same insecure Erza who, minutes before, had been hiding in a duvet cocoon.
And, with an effort of will that cost me almost everything, I stopped.
"What is it?" she asked immediately, her voice a little panicked. "Did… did I do something wrong?"
"No. Not at all," I said, rolling onto my side, breathing heavily. "It's just… you're trembling."
She, surprised, looked at her own hands.
"Oh."
"Was… was it all a bit much at once?"
"…Maybe a little." And her voice, suddenly, came out small. Nervous. Vulnerable. "I'm sorry, Azra'il. I wanted… I wanted to be better at this. Less—"
My arms wrapped around her again, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head, to somehow calm her. I then rested her forehead against my collarbone, my chin coming down to brush the top of her head. My tail, that traitorous and expressive thing, stopped its frantic thrashing and coiled around her calf in a loose and possessive spiral.
"Breathe, redhead," I murmured into her hair, my voice a low, steady rumble that I forced through my own haze of desire. "Just breathe. Inhale." I took an exaggeratedly deep breath, my chest expanding against hers. "Exhale."
She obeyed, a shaky sigh followed by a longer, shuddering exhalation that warmed my skin through the thin cotton of my top. The tension in her shoulders eased a fraction
.
"I… I'm so sorry," she whispered, the words muffled against my chest. "I don't know what came over me. I was trying to be… bold. Like you."
I couldn't suppress the soft laugh. "Erza Scarlet, the woman who dives headfirst into a den of killer manticores, is apologising for being bold? The world truly is ending." I tightened my hug just a little. "You did nothing wrong. You were perfect. Are perfect. This is… a lot. For anyone. Especially for the first time."
"It's not that I don't want to," she said quickly, her fingers clutching at the fabric of my shirt. "I do. I really, really do. My body feels… it feels like it's buzzing. And where you're pressing against me… it's a good ache. A hungry ache. But my mind…" She left the sentence hanging.
"Is screaming that this is new, and frightening, and that you're giving me something that no one has ever had," I completed for her, my voice gentle. I knew this dance. The terror and delight of the first surrender. "Your mind needs to catch up with your body. And we have all the time in the world for that."
She looked up at me, her eyes still shining.
"How do you know these things?" The question came out quiet, almost ashamed. "You've also never… right?"
I hesitated.
It was true. In this life, in this body, I had never been with anyone. Technically, I was as much a virgin as she was.
(Technically.)
[Technically is a word doing some very heavy lifting in that sentence.]
(Shut it, Eos.)
[Merely observing that your definition of "virgin" is… creative. Considering that in previous lives you've participated in imperial orgies, been the consort of kings and queens, and on one particularly memorable occasion, literally reincarnated as a goddess of lust.]
(That was in OTHER lives. It doesn't count.)
[The Goddess Ashara of the Vel'karith Pantheon would disagree. You had twelve thousand devotees who practised fertility rituals in your name.]
(OTHER. LIVES. Eos.)
[I am just documenting the irony of you declaring yourself "technically a virgin" when you possess enough carnal knowledge to write an illustrated encyclopaedia in fourteen volumes.]
(…)
(Eos.)
[Yes?]
(Privacy mode. NOW.)
[Privacy mode activated. Suspending monitoring and commentary for an indeterminate period. Recording will resume upon request or in case of a vital emergency.]
(Thank you.)
[You're welcome. Enjoy your "first time".]
(EOS!)
[Deactivating… now.]
Silence. Finally… I turned my focus back to Erza.
"No," I said, and it wasn't a lie. "I've never, either."
"But you seem so… sure. Like you know exactly what to do."
I shrugged, trying to seem casual. "I read a lot. I research. You know what I'm like; when something interests me, I study it until I understand it." I smiled sideways. "And I became very interested in you."
She blushed. "You… researched? About… this?"
"About how to make you feel good? Yes." I traced her jawline with my fingers. "I wanted to be prepared. For when… if… this happened."
"That's…" She seemed unsure whether to find it sweet or embarrassing. "That's very you."
"I know."
I felt her nod against me. We stayed like that for long minutes, wrapped in a silence broken only by the sound of our breathing synchronising, the flicker of the burning candles, the frantic and then slowing drumming of her heart against my ribs. My own rigid member, trapped between us, ached with a persistent, blind demand, but I ignored it. This was more important. This trust was more intoxicating than any friction.
Eventually, she tilted her head back, just enough to look up at me. Her brown eyes were still dark with arousal, but the panic had receded, leaving a vulnerable, liquid warmth.
"Teach me?" she asked, the words so soft they were almost inaudible. "What you read… show me?"
A slow, genuine smile spread across my lips.
"We'll discover it together," I said, because that was also true. Every body was different. Every person responded in unique ways. All the theoretical knowledge in the universe couldn't replace the reality of learning someone for the first time. "I may have read about the theory, but the practice…" I touched my nose to hers. "The practice is just ours."
She smiled, a small, nervous, but genuine smile. "I like that. It being just ours."
I moved, rolling us gently until she was on her back and I was propped up on an elbow beside her, looking down. My free hand came up and traced her jawline. "We'll go slow. We listen to each other. And you tell me, immediately, if something is too much, or not enough, or just… wrong. Understood?"
"Understood." Her reply was firm, the soldier in her clinging to the clear directives.
"Good." I leaned in and captured her lips again.
This kiss was different. Not the desperate, wine-fuelled collision from before, nor the playful, teasing exchange. This was a demonstration. A slow, meticulous exploration. I let my lips move over hers with deliberate slowness, showing her the pressure I liked, the way to part her own lips just so. My tongue traced the seam of her mouth, and when she opened for me with a soft sigh, I didn't plunge in. I entered softly, tasting her, the fading sweetness of the wine, the unique, clean taste that was Erza. I mapped the smooth ridges of her teeth, the soft, warm interior of her cheek.
She followed my lead, her own tongue meeting mine timidly at first, then with a growing confidence. Her hands came up to frame my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. As her fingers slid higher, brushing the base of my ear, I leaned into the touch, a low hum of approval vibrating in my throat. She smiled against my mouth.
I broke the kiss, dragging my lips along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She arched into it, a beautiful, unconscious offering. "Here," I whispered against her pulse point, feeling it jump beneath my lips. "The side of the neck. As you felt before, it's a very sensitive part." I pressed an open-mouthed kiss there, then soothed it with my tongue.
I continued my descent, my hands joining the journey. My fingers found the hem of her bunny pyjama top. "May I?" I breathed against the hollow of her throat.
Her "yes" was a breathless wisp.
I gathered the fabric and lifted. She helped, raising her arms, and I pulled the pyjamas over her head, tossing them aside. The sight stole the air from my lungs.
Erza Scarlet was, in a word, magnificent. Her torso was a landscape of powerful, feminine beauty. The soft, pale skin of her stomach was stretched over defined muscles, a testament to her relentless training. Higher up, her breasts were full and heavy, crowned with large, pink areolas that were already puckered into tight, inviting buds. They rose and fell with her quickened breathing, pleading for attention.
I didn't touch them yet. I worshipped her with my eyes, then with my mouth, placing kisses on the crest of her collarbone, in the smooth plane between her breasts. "You're stunning," I murmured, the words tumbling out of me before I could filter them. "An exposed warrior goddess."
A deep blush spread from her chest all the way to her cheeks. She was not accustomed to such blatant admiration. Her hands fluttered uncertainly, then came to rest on my shoulders.
Finally, I lowered my head and took a rigid nipple into my mouth.
Her back arched off the bed, a sharp, shocked gasp escaping her. My tongue swirled around the hard peak, then flattened against it, laving it with firm, wet strokes. My hand rose to cup her other breast, the weight of it a perfect, warm handful. My thumb rolled over the neglected nipple, pinching it gently.
"Azra'il!" Her voice was a strangled cry, her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I switched sides, giving the same devoted attention to her other breast, drinking in her reactions. The small jolts of her hips, the way her abdominal muscles contracted and released, the raw, beautiful sounds she made in the back of her throat. My own need was a furious, hammering counter-rhythm between my legs, but I focused on her. On building her up, layer by trembling layer.
My lips made their way down her sternum, over the trembling muscles of her abdomen. I dipped my tongue into her navel, making her squeak and squirm. My hands went to the waistband of her pyjama bottoms. My eyes locked with hers, a question in my gaze.
She bit her swollen lower lip, then gave a single, decisive nod.
I hooked my fingers into the fabric and pulled it down, taking her cotton knickers with it. She lifted her hips to help, and then she was completely naked before me.
Her pubic hair was a trimmed triangle of the same vibrant scarlet, a tuft of fire against her pale skin. I gently parted her thighs, and the sight of her revealed core made my mouth water. Her outer lips were already swollen, plump, and glistening with a clear, sweet wetness. They parted slightly, revealing the pink, velvety inner folds, slick and inviting. At the apex, her clitoris was a prominent, flushed pearl, visibly pulsing.
"Look at you," I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire. "So ready. So beautiful and wet for me."
She made a soft, embarrassed sound, trying to close her legs, but I kept them open with gentle hands on her inner thighs. "No. Don't hide. Let me see. Let me taste."
I didn't wait for any more permission. I lowered my head between her thighs, and my world narrowed to scent, taste, and sound. The musky, sweet, utterly feminine aroma of her arousal filled my senses. I exhaled, letting the warm air wash over her, and she shuddered violently.
I started with a slow, broad sweep of my tongue, from the base of her entrance all the way up to her clitoris.
The sound she made was pure, unfiltered pleasure. A high, broken moan. Her hips jumped off the bed. I held her with a firm hand on her stomach and did it again, savouring the sharp, addictive taste of her. I licked her entrance, gathering the copious wetness, then focused on her inner lips, sucking each one gently into my mouth.
"Oh… oh, gods…" she chanted, her hands now fisted in the sheets.
Finally, I focused on her clitoris. Not directly; that would be too much, too soon. I circled it with the tip of my tongue, light as a feather. Her thighs trembled around my head. I alternated between quick, flickering movements and slow, firm laps. I could feel the tension coiling in her body, the tell-tale tightening of her muscles. Her breathing became shallow and ragged.
I slid one hand down, pressing two fingers against her drenched entrance. "May I go inside?" I asked, pausing my ministrations for just a second.
"Y-yes. Please."
I pushed one finger inside her, slowly, feeling the incredible, tight heat of her virgin passage welcome me. She was fair, but slippery, her inner walls fluttering around my invading digit. She was so wet that my finger slid to the knuckle with a soft, wet sound. I curled it, searching, and when I pressed upwards against the spongy texture of the front wall…
Her entire body went rigid. A choked cry was torn from her throat. "There!" she sobbed. "Right there, oh, by the stars, Azra'il!"
Her G-spot. I had found it. I began a slow, relentless massage, rubbing that specific point with the pad of my finger in a 'come-hither' motion, while my mouth returned to her clitoris, sucking rhythmically.
"I… I can't… it's too much… it's building… there's something…" Her words were incoherent, her hips pumping desperately against my face and hand. I added a second finger, stretching her beautifully, and she cried out, her inner walls convulsing around them.
I was taking her to the edge, bringing her right to the precipice and then easing the pressure on her clitoris, letting the wave recede slightly before building it again with my fingers and tongue. She was a writhing, pleading mess beneath me.
"Please… I need to… I'm going to… what's happening?"
"Let it happen, Erza," I growled against her soaked flesh, my own body screaming for release. "Let go for me. Come on my tongue."
I redoubled my efforts, my fingers pumping firmly and deeply, rubbing that magic spot, my tongue a relentless, circling pressure on her clitoris. The sounds were obscene, wet noises of suction, her ragged cries, my own hungry groans.
And then she broke.
With a final, shattered cry, her back arched so far that only her shoulders and heels were touching the bed. Her hands flew to my head, holding me in place. Her channel tightened around my fingers in a series of rapid, intense spasms. And then, as I kept my mouth sealed over her clitoris, something else happened.
A warm, clear liquid gushed around my fingers, drenching my hand, my mouth, and the sheets beneath her with a sudden and surprising flood. It wasn't a trickle. It was a release, a small jet of fluid that poured from her, carrying her unique scent.
Her orgasm seemed to double in intensity, her body seizing as this new, unknown sensation ripped through her. She collapsed, boneless and panting, as the last tremors shook her.
I slowly withdrew my fingers and raised my head. My chin was shining with her mixed releases. I looked up at her body and saw her staring at the ceiling, eyes glazed, chest heaving. Then her gaze dropped sharply to the wet patch spreading beneath her, and horror dawned on her face.
"Did… did I just… pee?" she whispered, mortified, trying to shuffle away from the wetness.
I held her thigh, stopping her. My voice was thick, awed. "No, redhead. You didn't do that." I brought my wet fingers to my mouth and sucked them clean, making a point to savour the taste. Her eyes widened impossibly. "That… was something much rarer. That was you finding a pleasure so deep your body overflowed with it."
She blinked, looking from my face to the wet sheets and back. "I… I never… I didn't know that could…"
"It's a gift," I said, crawling up her body to kiss her deeply, letting her taste herself on my lips. "And it was the most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed."
The admission hung in the air, vulnerable and true. It seemed to soothe her. The embarrassment subsided, replaced by a dazed, sated wonder. Her hands went to my shirt. "Your turn," she said, her voice still shaky, but determined. "I want to see you."
I sat back on my heels and pulled off my own top. Her eyes roamed my torso, my modest breasts, the flat, defined plane of my stomach. Then her gaze dropped lower, to the obvious bulge in my pyjama bottoms. I stood on the bed just long in to strip them off, and then I knelt before her, completely naked.
Her breath hitched.
My cock sprang forward, thick and fully erect, curving slightly upwards. The shaft was a pale colour, traced with a map of prominent veins that pulsed with my heartbeat. The head was a flushed, rosy colour, already beaded with a drop of pre-cum at the slit. Below, my balls were drawn up tight, a heavy sack taut with a simmering need.
"You're… so…" She reached out a timid hand, then stopped.
"You can touch," I said, my voice tense.
Her fingers brushed my length first, a light, feathery exploration that made my whole body jolt. Then, her hand closed around the base. Her grip was strong, confident from wielding swords, but uncertain in its purpose. She looked up at me, asking for guidance.
"Just… stroke. Up and down. Use the wetness that's already there." My own pre-cum was leaking more freely now, lubricating the way.
She began to move her hand, a slow, hesitant pump. It was clumsy, her thumb sometimes catching on the sensitive ridge of my glans. But the sheer novelty of it, the sight of Erza Scarlet, the Titânia, with her hand wrapped around my cock, was almost enough to undo me.
"Look at me," I commanded, my tone dropping, taking on a darker, more dominant edge I hadn't intended but couldn't suppress.
Her brown eyes locked onto mine, holding my gaze. The vulnerability there, mixed with a fierce, growing curiosity, was my undoing.
"Faster," I growled. My hips began to move in small thrusts against her fist. "Tighter on the head… yes… just like that…"
She learned fast, adapting her grip and pace, watching my face for every reaction. My tail was lashing the air behind me, my ears flattened against my skull. The spring in my stomach coiled unbearably tight. I was so close, teetering on that glorious, agonizing edge.
"I'm going to come, Erza," I warned, my words ragged.
Her eyes never left mine. They even darkened.
I couldn't hold back and I came.
It hit me like a collapsing star. My vision went white at the edges. A deep, shuddering convulsion started in my balls and shot up my shaft. The first thick spurt hit her hand. I held her gaze, watching her eyes widen in surprise at the volume, the force of it. The second pulse followed, and the third, flooding her hand and her arm. But her eyes never wavered from mine. It was an act of profound love and trust, and it prolonged my climax into a series of painful, endless waves.
When the last tremor passed, I gently withdrew her hand, which was completely soiled with my white semen.
I collapsed beside her, pulling her into my arms, both of us gleaming with sweat and other fluids. We lay there, panting, in the afterglow. The air was thick with the scents of sex and satisfaction.
But my body, sated only for a moment, was already stirring again. An old, deep hunger, older than my cynicism, older than my many lives, was waking. The feeling of her naked, lithe body against mine, the memory of her tight, wet heat around my fingers, the taste of her still on my lips… it wasn't enough.
I kissed her neck, my hands roaming her back, her hips, pulling her closer until our lower bodies aligned. My semi-rigid length nestled against the damp, swollen folds of her cunt. A new, urgent throbbing started there.
She felt it. She shifted, turning in my arms to face me. Her eyes were heavy, sated, but a new question was burning in them. She could feel my renewed hardness pressing against her most intimate place.
"Azra'il?" she breathed.
I kissed her, deep and slow, pouring all my desperate desire into it. When I pulled back, my forehead rested against hers. "I need to be inside you, Erza," I confessed, the words a raw, whispered truth. "I need to feel you all around me. All of you."
A flicker of that earlier fear crossed her face, but it was quickly swallowed by the same hungry ache I was feeling. She nodded, a small, decisive movement. "Yes. I want that too. I want you… inside."
Her consent was my trigger. I rolled her onto her back once more, settling between her thighs. I reached a hand between us, taking my cock, guiding the slick, swollen head to her entrance. It brushed against her, parting her slick folds. I paused, looking into her eyes. "This might hurt a little. For a moment. After that, it will be nothing but pleasure. I promise."
"I trust you."
I pushed forward.
The resistance was immediate, a tight, pliable barrier. I kept my movements slow, inexorable. Her eyes squeezed shut, her nails digging into my arms. A sharp, pained gasp escaped her. I felt the thin membrane give, a slight tearing sensation, and then I was sheathed inside her, buried to the hilt in a single, deep thrust.
A single, perfect tear leaked from the corner of her eye. I kissed it away.
"Breathe," I murmured, staying completely still, letting her body adjust to the incredible, complete sensation of being stretched, penetrated, claimed. "Just breathe through it. The worst is over."
She took a shaky breath, then another. The pained tension in her face began to ease, replaced by a sense of wonder. She moved her hips experimentally, and a small, shocked sound came from her lips. "Oh… you're so… deep."
"I am," I groaned, the feeling of her virgin walls tightening around me like a velvet fist was almost too much to bear. I could feel a new wetness, a hotter, stickier slickness mingling with her arousal. Probably blood. With the utmost care, I began to move.
Slowly at first. Withdrawing almost completely, then sinking back in with a smooth, deep glide. The friction was sublime. Every nerve ending in my cock was on fire. Her inner walls undulated around me, learning my shape, clinging to me as I retreated.
"Look at me," I whispered again, my rhythm gradually increasing.
Her eyes, glazed with a mixture of pain and blossoming pleasure, found mine. I watched her as I began to fuck her for real. My thrusts were deep, measured, each one caressing that sensitive spot inside her that my fingers had discovered. Her breathing turned to moans, then to cries. Her legs came up to wrap around my waist, her heels digging into the base of my back, pulling me deeper with every movement of my hips.
The bed began to rock with our rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin, of our mingled wetness, filled the room. My balls tightened, slapping against her arse with each forward plunge. Her breasts swayed with the force of my thrusts, a hypnotizing, erotic sight. I leaned down to capture a nipple in my mouth again, sucking hard as I pumped inside her.
"Azra'il… it's… it's different… deeper… more," she babbled, her hands grabbing my back, my shoulders, my hair.
"That's it," I growled against her skin. "Take it. Take all of me."
I was losing control. The careful, didactic patience was being burned away in the furnace of my own need. My thrusts became harder, faster, more primal. The head of my cock was hitting her cervix with each deep drive, and she was gasping, not in pain now, but in a kind of overwhelming ecstasy.
A frantic, desperate thought cut through the haze of pleasure. Protection. I hadn't even thought about it. The wine, the teasing, the teaching, the squirt, it had all driven प्रैक्टिकल matters from my ancient mind. I was buried inside her, unprotected, my fertile seed already simmering in my tight sac, ready to erupt. The risk was immediate, terrifying… and unbelievably erotic.
I froze, buried to the hilt, my body trembling with the effort to stop. "Erza… I'm not… I didn't use anything. I can pull out…"
Her eyes, dark and wild with passion, locked onto mine. Her legs tightened around me, her inner walls fluttering in a fierce, possessive grip. "No," she said, the word absolute. "Don't you dare. I want to feel it. I want all of you. Deep inside."
The command, coming from her, shattered my last thread of restraint. It was a decision to go bareback, unplanned, made in a whirlwind of passion and trust. My hips resumed their punishing rhythm, now with a frantic, final urgency.
"I'm going to fill you," I snarled, my voice animalistic. "I'm going to pump my cum so deep into your womb it will never find its way out. Do you understand?"
"Yes! Please!"
The climax ripped through me with the force of a natural disaster. It wasn't just an orgasm; it was a primal release, a biological imperative. My back arched, a roar was torn from my throat. My cock swelled even more inside her, then erupted.
The first violent spurt of semen shot directly against her cervix. I could feel it, a hot, liquid pulse travelling the length of my shaft and rocketing into her deepest part. Her vaginal walls clamped down in milking spasms, pulling another, thicker jet from my balls. The image was vivid, graphic in my mind: my seed, millions of eager, swimming cells, flooding her canal, seeking the entrance to her womb, bathing her in my essence.
A second torrent followed, and a third, each one a deep, internal claim. I ground against her, ensuring every last drop was deposited as deep as possible. I imagined it travelling, invading, settling. An internal inundation of a first-timer, of monumental significance. The warmth of my release spread inside her, a tangible, intimate connection.
Her own orgasm overwhelmed her moments later, triggered by the sensation of my release pumping and the relentless stimulation. She cried out, her body convulsing beneath me, her channel fluttering and gripping my still-pulsing cock in rhythmic, intense waves. We were locked together, both trembling, both crying out, lost in a shared, devastating pinnacle.
Slowly, the world returned. The tremors subsided. I was still inside her, softening, but intimately connected. I collapsed on top of her, careful to keep my weight on my elbows. Our sweaty bodies were glued together. I could feel the warm trickle of our mingled releases, her arousal, a bit of her blood, my copious semen, running from where we were joined, staining the sheets beneath us yet again.
I kissed her neck, my ragged breath stirring her damp hair. "Erza…" I whispered, my voice utterly wrecked.
She didn't speak. Her arms wrapped around me, holding me with a strength that spoke of more than just the physical afterglow. It was the protective embrace of one who had just claimed completely.
"Erza," I called again, my voice a low rumble in the quiet room.
"Talk to me," I murmured. "Not about what you think I want to hear. What's in your head, right now, this exact second."
She looked up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling. The flush on her skin was beginning to cool. "It's… a mess. It's like after a big battle, when the adrenaline wears off and everything feels very sharp and very quiet at the same time. Only… pleasant. A pleasant overload. And there's… a warmth. Low in my stomach. And between my legs, the feeling is of… use. In a good way. Stretched and sensitive." She turned her head to look at me. "And I can still feel you. Inside. Even though you're not anymore. A phantom ache. And I want it to be real again."
Her honesty was a blade that slipped between my ribs and found my heart. Gods.
"The warmth," I said, my voice thick. "That's me. My seed, inside you."
Her eyes widened. The reality of it, spoken aloud, seemed to land with a new weight. Her hand drifted down to rest on her lower belly, over her womb. "It's still… there?"
"Some of it. A lot of it, actually. Some might have leaked out. The rest…" I swallowed hard. "The rest is still there… inside…"
A complex series of emotions passed over her face. Wonder. A touch of fear. A fierce, possessive curiosity. "We didn't… plan this."
"No. We didn't." I wouldn't lie to her. "It was a risk. A beautiful, stupid, incredible risk."
"Are you worried?" she asked, her gaze probing mine.
The old cynic in me, the being who had seen consequences unfold across the ages, should have been screaming. But all I felt was a profound, unnerving calm. A sense that this was right. "Worried? Yes. About the potential 'bun in the oven'. About the complications of it all. But, in this moment… regret?" I shook my head slowly. "Not a single drop. It felt… right."
"It did," she whispered. Then, a new determination straightened her spine. "What's done is done. We can't change it now. So…" She turned fully onto her side, facing me, her expression shifting from pensive to something more intense. "So we should enjoy it. While we can. Before the world outside remembers we exist."
Her logic was so perfectly, pragmatically Erza. It bypassed the anxiety and landed on action. My lips curved into a smile. "Is that an order, Knight?"
"It is." She reached out and traced the line of my jaw, her fingers firmer now. "You said you needed to be inside me. You were. Now I have a need."
"Tell me."
"I need to feel you again. But… different. I don't know how. Show me a different way."
A low, predatory growl rumbled through me. The instinct to teach, the dominant desire to guide, rushed back, hotter than before. The unplanned, unprotected act had stripped away the last layer of pretence. There were no barriers now, literal or metaphorical. It was just biology, trust, and raw desire.
"A different way," I repeated, my mind already conjuring the image. The wolf in me, the part tied to ancient, simple instincts, rose up and howled in agreement. Mate. Claim. From behind.
"Turn over," I said, my voice dropping to a register that was pure command.
She blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but obeyed without question, rolling onto her stomach. The view was immediately breathtaking. The powerful lines of her back, the curve of her spine, the magnificent volume of her buttocks, were a landscape made for worship and possession.
Her pale skin was flushed from our earlier exertions, and a faint, sticky sheen marked her inner thighs.
"Now, get on your knees," I instructed, my own body moving before I'd finished the sentence. I knelt behind her.
She rose, uncertain, ending up on her hands and knees. The position arched her back beautifully, presenting her sex to me openly. Her swollen, glistening labia were visibly parted, and I could see the delicate pink of her inner folds, still glazed with our combined fluids. A small, white thread, my jizz mixed with a hint of the rosy proof of her lost virginity, trickled slowly from her entrance.
"This is strange," she admitted, her voice muffled as she looked back over her shoulder. "I feel… exposed."
"You are," I said, my hands coming to rest on the lush curves of her hips. My thumbs pressed into the dimples at the base of her spine. "And you are absolutely breathtaking. This position… it's primal. It lets me see all of you. It lets me take you deep. Deeper than before."
As if to emphasize the point, my cock, which had only softened slightly, returned to full, throbbing hardness. The thick shaft curved upwards, the rosy head dripping fresh pre-cum. My tail escaped its controlled coil and began to swish in a slow, eager arc behind me. I couldn't hide it. The arousal was too visceral.
Erza saw. Her eyes followed the wagging motion, and a small, breathless laugh escaped her. "Your tail… you really like this."
"I have no control over it," I grumbled, but the effect was ruined by the pure pleasure in my gaze as I drank in the sight of her. "It's a purely instinctual response. And yes. I like this. A lot."
I leaned forward, bracing one hand on the bed beside her shoulder, my body hovering over hers. My other hand guided my cock, the slick head brushing against the wet folds of her sex from behind. The angle was different, more direct. I rubbed the broad crown up and down her slit, coating myself in her lubricity and the remnants of my own release. The sensation of gliding through that warm, wet mixture, of feeling my earlier claim on her, was indescribably erotic.
She gasped, her head dropping between her shoulders. "Oh… this feels…"
"Tell me."
"Intrusive. In a good way. I can feel every angle of you… there."
I nuzzled the head into her entrance. "This will be a different kind of stretch. Ready?"
She nodded, her knuckles turning white where she gripped the sheets.
I pushed forward.
The penetration was smoother this time, her body already open, already knowing mine. But the angle made everything new. I slid into her welcoming heat with a single, firm thrust, and the sensation was so intense I saw stars. She was just as tight as before, her inner walls gripping me like a silk fist, but the path was clear, allowing me to sink to the root in one smooth, breathtaking glide.
A choked moan was torn from her throat. "By the Gods… you're… it's so deep this way!"
I was. I could feel the head of my cock pressing against a different part of her internal landscape, a deep, 'bottoming out' pressure that hadn't been possible in our previous position. I stayed there, completely buried, letting us both feel the incredible fullness. My balls, already drained but miraculously refilling, rested comfortably against her perineum, the hairs brushing her sensitive skin.
"This is 'doggy style'," I murmured into her ear, my breath stirring her scarlet hair. "Primal. Simple. Deep."
"I like it," she gasped, pushing her hips back tentatively against me, seeking more.
I pulled back slowly, watching with rapt fascination as my pale, slick length emerged from her flushed, well-used entrance. Her inner lips clung to me, reluctant to let go. Then I entered again, a firm, solid stroke that made her cry out and her breasts sway beneath her. The slap of my hips against her arse was a sharp, satisfying sound. A faint, musky scent, the perfume of our vigorous mating, rose between us.
I established a rhythm. Not the slow, measured pace of before. This was more urgent, more rhythmic. Every thrust was a full, deep plunge, my pelvis meeting the full, round curves of her backside with a firm impact that sent shockwaves through her firm flesh. The cheeks of her arse jiggled with each impact, slapping softly against my lower abdomen. The visual was utterly depraved: the powerful warrior maiden on all fours, being taken from behind by a creature with a wildly wagging wolf's tail.
My hands tightened on her hips, guiding her, controlling the depth and angle. I experimented, tilting her pelvis slightly, and was rewarded with a sharp, broken moan.
"There!" she sobbed. "Right there, don't stop!"
I had found her spot again, from this new, devastating angle. Every drive now rubbed the curved head of my cock directly over that spongy, textured paradise inside her. Her reactions were immediate and glorious. Her back arched, offering herself more completely. Her moans became continuous, a hoarse, pleading melody.
Her own hands sought purchase, one kneading the sheets, the other reaching back to grab my thigh, her nails digging into my skin.
"You take me so perfectly," I growled, my own control fraying. The sight of our joining, the wet, obscene sounds, the complete abandon in her posture, this was unlocking something ancient and feral in me. My thrusts became harder, more possessive. My tail was lashing the air. "This beautiful, tight cunt was made for my cock. Made to be filled with my seed."
The dirty words, the sheer vulgarity of them, seemed to electrify her. She pushed back against me with new fervour, meeting my drives, turning our coupling into a fierce, shared rhythm.
"Yes!" she cried out, her voice raw. "It was! It is! More, Azra'il, give me more!"
I obeyed. I fucked her with a relentless, hammering intensity. The bedframe groaned in protest. Her breasts swung heavily beneath her, a hypnotizing pendulum of flesh with each powerful thrust. Sweat glistened on the sculpted muscles of her back. I leaned over her, one hand sliding around her torso to cup the weight of her breast, pinching and rolling the hardened nipple between my fingers. The other hand remained anchored to her hip, my fingers surely leaving bruises.
I was lost in it. The heat, the friction, the animalistic rightness of the act. The worry, the consequence, it all melted away in the furnace of this sex that had become primal. There was only this woman, this connection, this desperate, driving need to be as deep inside her as biology would allow.
A new, urgent pressure began to build in her, different from the spiralling tension of her earlier climax. I could feel it in the way her inner walls began to flutter and have irregular spasms, in the way her breathing hitched into short, desperate gasps.
"Azra'il… I feel… it's happening again, but it's… it's a pressure, I need… I think I need to…"
Squirt. Her body was remembering. The deep, sustained stimulation of her G-spot at this angle was pushing her towards that spectacular, liquid release.
"Let it happen," I commanded, my own climax coiling, a tight spring at the base of my spine. "Don't fight it. Let me feel you come undone all around me."
I minutely changed my angle, ensuring every thrust passed perfectly over that engorged spot. I pistoned inside her, the sound of our bodies meeting becoming a wet, rhythmic slap. Her pleas dissolved into high, wordless sounds.
And then it broke.
With a guttural cry that was half-sob, half-bellow, her body locked up. Her back arched into a taut bow. Her channel contracted around me in a series of violent spasms that were milking me, threatening to pull my own release right then and there. And then, a warm jet of liquid flooded around my throbbing cock.
It wasn't the surprising deluge of the first time. This was a hotter, more focused jet, a pressurized release that poured from where we were joined, drenching my lower abdomen, her thighs, the sheets beneath us with a new wave of clear fluid. The scent, musky and sweet, filled the air. Her body trembled through the release, the pleasure so intense it seemed to border on pain.
The sensation of her gushing around my moving length was the final trigger. My vision tunnelled. My balls contracted against my body, an urgent, searing ache. With an inner snarl, I buried myself to the hilt and came.
This climax was different from the first. It wasn't a shocking eruption after careful teasing. This was a deep, pulsing fount of release, fed by primitive instinct and the profound intimacy of our joining. I stayed deep, grinding against her as each thick, hot jet of semen pulsed from my core, directly into her vibrant, receptive depths.
I could feel it. Each jet was a liquid heat travelling the length of my shaft and shooting into her. Her cervix was a soft barrier painted by my seed. The subsequent pulses flooded the canal behind it, a warm, reclaiming tide.
My mind, already disconnected at the height of ecstasy, no longer cared about the consequences or the potential creation of this act of ours.
Her vaginal walls, still fluttering from her squirt, were avidly milking me, squeezing out every last drop. When the last tremor subsided, I collapsed forward onto her back, my weight on my elbows, my body glued to her sweaty skin. We were both panting, shuddering, utterly spent. My cock, softening, slipped out of her, followed by an immediate, warm trickle of our combined essences, her clear liquid, my thick, white jizz, running down her thighs.
For a long time, there was only the sound of our irregular breathing. The air was thick, humid, and pungent with the smell of sex. Slowly, I rolled off her, gathering her limp, pliant body. She came willingly, her movements boneless. I pulled her into my arms, her back against my chest, spooning her. My tail, finally quiet, draped over her hip in a loose, possessive curve.
We lay in the wet patch, neither of us caring. The reality of what we'd done began to seep back in, past the afterglow.
Her hand found mine where it rested on her stomach, over the warm, flat plane below her navel. Her fingers intertwined with mine. "It's… even warmer now," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
I pulled her closer, wrapping her completely in my arms. My tail, exhausted but still stubborn, coiled around her calf with a lazy affection. "Are you okay?" I asked quietly, my nose buried in her hair. "Wasn't… too much?"
"It was a lot." She laughed, the sound faint but genuine. "But in a good way."
We were silent for a moment. Her hand tightened on mine over her stomach, and I felt something shift in her breathing. A hesitation.
"Azra'il…"
"Hm?"
"What if… what if something changes? After tonight?"
The question was vague. But I understood the weight behind it. The fear. The possibility that neither of us had properly thought through before we began.
I kissed her shoulder. "If something changes," I said softly, "we'll figure it out together. There's nothing you're going to face alone. Not anymore."
She turned her head, her nose brushing my chin. Her eyes searched mine in the dim light, and I saw there not fear, but something more vulnerable.
"I'm not afraid of that," she whispered. "I'm afraid of… this feeling ending. Of tomorrow coming and this just being a dream."
My heart tightened in my chest. The thought that she could believe this, that us, was something so ephemeral… it was unacceptable.
"Hey." I turned her face gently towards me, so she could see the truth in my eyes, even in the dim light. "Look at me."
She looked.
"This isn't a dream. I am here. And I'm going to keep being here." I traced her cheek with my thumb, a gesture that was both a caress and a vow. "And tomorrow… tomorrow will have its own complications. Its own demands. The world out there isn't going to stop for us. But this?" I squeezed her hand over her stomach, over the warmth we had created, over the possibility that now resided there. "This is ours. This night is ours. And no one, not gods, not demons, not the bloody Magic Council, can take that away from us."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"Ours," she repeated softly, the word a balm, a confirmation.
"Ours." I kissed her forehead, lingering there for a moment, inhaling the scent of her hair, of her skin. "Now get some rest, redhead. You need it."
"You too."
"I will rest. I just want to…" I hesitated, unsure how to put the wave of tenderness and possessiveness flooding me into words. "I just want to stay like this a little longer."
"Looking after you."
She smiled, that small, tired, completely disarmed smile that had the power to undo me. "You're very cute when you want to be."
I snorted. "I am not cute."
"Yes, you are." She yawned, nestling closer against me, her body moulding to mine. "Very, very cute."
"My tail disagrees. It has a reputation for being intimidating."
"Your tail is wagging right now," she murmured, her voice already heavy with sleep.
"…Traitor."
She laughed, the sound transforming into another long, deep yawn. "Goodnight, Azra'il."
I tightened my arms around her, my hand still resting on her stomach, over the warmth, over the possibility, over everything that could or could not happen from that moment on. "Goodnight, my redhead."
She fell asleep in minutes, her breathing deep and even against my chest.
I stayed awake for a while longer, listening to her breathe, feeling her heart beat against mine, a steady and reassuring rhythm. I thought about tomorrows and possibilities, and the crushing, and at the same time, incredibly sweet weight of having someone to protect, someone who was mine to protect.
And as I finally closed my eyes, exhaustion claiming my body, a certainty, simple and absolute, solidified deep within my soul.
Whatever happened, I would be there.
Always.