Chapter Text
He didn’t know what woke him. The icy silence of space swirling outside, or the whirring of the Express’ unknowable engines. It couldn’t have been her. When he opened his eyes, she was already there. Leaning against the door, her gloved fingers tap-tap-tapping on it to a tune only she knew.
“...you shouldn’t be here,” the sheets rustled around him as he sat up, his vision slowly adjusting to the gloom.
“Why, I can be wherever I want to be,” she purred.
He felt the urge to grab his weapon. She pushed herself off the door, each step a flippant stride, and he saw his bat leaning against the wall–the wall behind her.
“ Listen: don’t go getting any bright ideas, now,” she strolled over to his desk. She rested her hands on it as she pretended to interest herself in the view outside his window.
Effectively, she had him cornered. He clenched his fists, only to loosen them as he realized he was ill-equipped to fight her off.
“You’re not in any position to tell me that, Kafka,” he slid out of bed, rising to his feet.
“Oh?” she arched an eyebrow at him, a pleased smile curling at her lips. “So you remember my name. What a good boy you are, Caelus.”
He flinched as his name trickled through her lips. The way she said it, tasted it, made his face feel hot.
“You should leave. I can’t guarantee your safety if anyone else finds you here.”
The Express should have security systems in place to keep intruders out, especially ones as dangerous as the Stellaron Hunters. How she slipped through their systems, and into his room without raising a single alarm, left Caelus uncertain if he could even trust his eyes.
“I’m not dreaming, am I?”
Each room in the Astral Express had an emergency button. For Caelus, his was located under his desk.
“Would you believe any answer I gave you?” she shrugged, the motion causing her jacket to slip from her shoulders, pooling neatly at her feet. “Who’s to say I’m not the one dreaming, and you’re invading my little space?”
“Well, if I’m intruding, I apologize,” he stepped closer, his bare feet on cold carpets. They certainly felt real, as did the faint scent of burnt vanilla in her wake. Somehow, he found it hard to believe that Kafka could dream of his room. But he played along.
“Do apologize,” she giggled, halting him in his tracks. “I didn’t think you were the type of guy to sleep shirtless..”
“I didn’t think it would upset you,” he scoffed, forcing himself to move forward. Resisting her.
“Upset?” Kafka turned on her heel before hoisting herself up to sit on his desk. “Do I look upset to you?”
He couldn’t tell. The Stellaron Hunter wore the unreadable, plastic-perfect smile she always did, but she wasn’t above letting her eyes roam a little. As though she was looking over a choice cut of meat, seeing if it suited her elegant palate. If anything, her smirk seemed to only grow wider as he approached, her long legs kicking the air in idle anticipation.
“...must you take a seat on my table?”
“Dear me,” Kafka touched a finger to her lips. “Where else am I supposed to sit?”
“There’s a chair,” Caelus gestured at the one tucked neatly under his desk. “Right in front of you.”
“I know,” she hummed, giving the tip of her finger a little kiss . “I’m looking at him.”
Caelus’ breath hitched in his throat. He became aware, for the first time, of the pounding of his own heart.
“Come here,” she cooed, curling that same finger at him. “I want to see more.”
He knew the imminent danger, crackling in the air with every step he took. Her words, her fragrance, her sultry-lidded eyes. She had him by the throat without lifting so much as a finger, and he could only stare; he could only listen as she beckoned him closer.
A part of him resisted. The distant pull of a better conscience screamed at him, warning him of the trap he was walking into. She hadn’t drawn her weapon yet–if he could make a run for his ball bat, he might just stand a chance. He didn’t have to win. All he had to do was reach the emergency button under his desk. If he could alert March, Dan Heng, Himeko, and Welt, even Kafka might have a hard time getting away unscathed.
It was a no-brainer. She was the enemy.
But his head hurt. He was so tired, and even now, he wasn’t sure if he was truly awake. It made no sense for Kafka to so easily infiltrate the Astral Express. What if she was just a figment of his imagination? What if the alluring curl of her beckoning finger, the way she lazily crossed and uncrossed her legs, the serpentine flick of her tongue across her lush lips, was a product of his fatigue-addled mind? What if… he could just give in, and let his instincts carry him along into this harmless little fantasy–
His next step landed on an unfamiliar fabric.
Not the carpets. It was leather, freshly shrugged from the shoulders of a temptress. Caelus’ head snapped down as he stared at the jacket, slightly crumpled by his stride. The likeness of a spider was embroidered right in the middle, with spiderwebs on either side of his feet. Surrounding him.
“There you go,” she whispered, her silken words burrowing into his ears. “Good boy.”
The trailblazer looked up at her, and it was only then that he noticed the strings dancing around her fingers. They glinted in the starlight with the dull shimmer of a sharpened blade. And Caelus realized that faint shimmer stretched down to the floor, and up to the ceiling, and—
“Kafka–!”
He didn’t get to finish. He felt the tightness digging into his neck, his wrists, his waist; enough to hurt, but only just enough to leave his skin unbroken. If she forced them any further, she could very well slice him into pieces before he could blink.
With her marionette in place, Kafka curled her slender fingers into a fist and tugged, forcing him to stumble forward.
“You,” he hissed. “You… tricked me.”
“Oh, the strings? They were always there,” Kafka’s voice dropped to a sultry drawl as she extended one of her legs, touching his chest. “You simply walked right into them.”
The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. She could have been in his room for any amount of time before he woke up, and laid down any number of traps. All for him to just stupidly waltz into her web.
“Stop—” Caelus barely suppressed the shudder that ran through him.
“Don’t tell me you were so… distracted, that you didn’t notice?”
His face burned. Anger and shame, yes. Both at his carelessness and at the fact that he could feel his heart racing right where the toe of her boot dug into his bare chest. He hated how his body was reacting. There was a time for his instincts to take the helm, and it was most certainly not now.
Caelus heard a soft pop . One he couldn’t identify the source of until it hit him in the forehead. He caught the falling object, frowning as he unclenched his fist to reveal a button.
“...I wonder,” Kafka’s voice sounded so distant compared to the pounding in his ears. “What was it that distracted you?”
He threw it aside–as though it had stung him. But her venom was already seeping into his ears, tugging at the fragile, fragile strings of his heart.
“Were you perhaps enjoying the view?” she hummed, the toe of her boot tracing a slow circle over his pectorals.
He was so, so tempted to look at her, to see where exactly in her elegant outfit that button had come off of.
He was so, so close to breaking.
“Get out of my room,” Caelus shot back, his nails digging into his palms so hard that he was on the verge of drawing blood. “This is your… last chance.”
“Oh my, you’re sooo scary,” she cooed, his threat glancing off her impenetrable smile.
“No, I…” he tried in vain to resist the temptation, only for her boot to catch the sharp of his jaw–and tilt his head up.
It wasn’t the top button, nor was it the bottom. She had plucked off the button in the middle of her shirt, and Caelus’ mind reeled as he was allowed the barest glimpse of her cleavage, and the peekaboo of her lacy black bra.
“Be honest, now.”
With a deft flick of her wrist, she pulled him closer still, right up against the table, until both of her legs squeezed him around the hips. Her perfume–that damned vanilla–pervaded his senses, and under it, the faint, feminine scent of her . His eyes flicked from her chest to her hazy eyes, painfully aware of the bulge straining against the fabric of his pants, practically digging into her body.
“I’ll listen to whatever it is you want to say,” she whispered.
He jerked–trying to free his arms–but Kafka’s web held him tighter than chains. She wanted his answer, and she wanted it now. He realized, with the last shred of his lucidity, that if he could just reach under the table, he could hit the emergency button. He could end this whole dream.
Caelus’ teeth were chattering. He hadn’t even realized it until he opened his mouth on instinct, and promptly shut it out of guilt. The easy answer danced on the tip of his tongue, but even with his back turned, he knew exactly where his ball bat lay against the door.
“Let–” he began.
He couldn’t say it.
It was the same ball bat he had wielded on his first adventure with Dan Heng and March, to liberate the people of Belobog. How disappointed would they be if he couldn’t resist one single woman?
“Let me–” he wheezed. He would have clawed at his throat if he could.
Let me go. Let me go. Let me go.
It was the same ball bat he had boarded the Astral Express with. Pom-Pom had made a joke about how strange a choice it was. Whatever he did, whatever they did, would only damn him with evidence.
The last word withered away in his throat every time he tried, envenomed by her charms into nothing but a dry gargle.
It was the same ball bat he had woken up with–in her arms–and here she was now, savoring his torment. Her soft, warm, inviting body just begging to be indulged in.
“Let me–have you–!”
NO!
“There you go.”
She yanked him closer still. Close enough for his nose to brush against her shoulder as her lips brushed against the shell of his ear.
“Good boy.”
And she kissed him. Kafka, Stellaron Hunter, wanted all over the galaxy by the Interastral Peace Corporation–with a bounty that would leave anybody set for dozens of lifetimes–pressed her lips to his cheek and left him with the most chaste of kisses. Almost friendly, if not for the growl that slipped from Caelus’ cracked lips. So starved for affection, so desperate for her touch was he that the gesture alone was enough to blur his vision at the corners. And that was to say nothing of his stiffness, digging into Kafka’s pants.
“...you poor thing,” she whispered into his other ear, pleased with how he trembled in response to every honeyed syllable. “Do you want me to help with that?”
“Yes,” he almost begged, horrified by how natural it felt. “Please.”
“And a ‘please’ as well?” she pressed her lips to his chin, this time with a little touch of tongue. “You’re, mm… very polite, aren’t you?”
She kept kissing him, kept running that filthy mouth of hers over his flushed face. Caelus grunted and panted, relishing her touch but wanting more. He still couldn’t move, and her bonds showed no sign of loosening even as she moved lower, her free hand getting an appreciative grope of his abs. Her lips landed on his chest next, her tongue lapping against his flesh as she tasted her prey. The helpless trailblazer whimpered at the stimulation, his arousal throbbing so needily in his pants that it felt as though it would tear through the fabric.
“Don’t you… ah, mm… worry,” Kafka sucked his nipple into her mouth, toying with him just enough to make it feel good before breaking contact. “We’ll get to that soon enough.”
“...how…” Caelus wheezed, feeling a bead of precum seep from his cock, staining his pants. “How soon?”
“Earn it,” she replied easily. “You can’t let a woman do all the work now, can you?”
She made a good point. But with Kafka’s head bobbing every which way as she left a daisy chain of sultry kisses and nibbles across his chest, it was hard for Caelus to reciprocate. He could only feebly struggle against his bindings, grunting in annoyance.
“How am I supposed to help if I’m tied–mmh–”
Oh, how she engulfed him. One moment, she was curling her tongue around his navel, and the next, she was mashing her mouth into his. Caelus recoiled, as though some base instinct compelled him for one last, futile resistance, but the threads around his neck soon forced him back where she wanted him. It wasn’t just vanilla anymore. Sweat, spit, and sweetness suffused into the hot air between them as Kafka’s grip on his leash tightened. Goading him into fighting back, tempting the trailblazer to wrestle her tongue with his. That was his own sweat he was tasting on her.
He grunted again, nearly spitting into her mouth–when she rocked her hips forward, grinding her hips against his tent. If his body could get any hotter, he wouldn’t be surprised to see sparks start flying between them.
“Mmm, mmhmm~” Kafka sang, her threads shivering along with her voice as Caelus forced her back, his tongue spearing into her mouth. She let him have his fun, his one moment of victory as he ravished her, letting the trailblazer inundate his room with the sloppy symphony of their intense making out. Wet moans, addled by deep gasps, as tongues coiled in hot knots of spit that tied them together–just as much as her bonds–even when they parted briefly for hot smacks of air.
For Caelus, he may as well have been starving, and the temptress was his only cure. Never mind that she had been the one to reduce him to this in the first place. But it didn’t matter how long he’d been kissing her, drinking her spit, swallowing her moans; all that mattered was how good it all felt, how his entire body felt as though it would combust from the sheer pleasure that was building in his loins.
Until Kafka decided enough was enough, and Caelus grunted harshly as she kicked him backward. Thick strings of drool still hung from her parted lips as the Stellaron Hunter wiped her mouth, restoring herself to some modicum of decency. He wanted to lunge back at her, to just… claim her where she sat, but with a twist of slender fingers, the threads around his knees and elbows snapped tight , locking him in place, leaving him writhing for attention, gasping with need.
“...not bad,” she smacked her lips, tasting him as one would a fine wine. “Your body certainly remembers how to kiss.”
“Let me go,” he hissed. “Kafka…”
“Ah, the banality of instant gratification,” she shook her head, feigning disappointment.
“Kafka, please…!”
“Oh, but how I do love to hear you beg, ” her lips curled into a wicked smile. “Maybe I could give you a little… ah, reward.”
She spoke so slowly, so easily. It was clear that she enjoyed the sound of her own voice just as much as she liked to watch him squirm.
The Stellaron Hunter slid her fingers down to her collar, her hazy eyes flicking up to Caelus to make sure he was watching, before deftly undoing a single button.
“Hff–!” Caelus strained against his bonds as her shirt peeled away, revealing just that bit more of pale skin.
“That’s one hell of an expression you’re making,” she cooed. “Just for that, you get one more little treat…”
Another button slipped out of its hole. Combined with her tease from earlier, Kafka was left with her shirt undone all the way down to her navel, and Caelus was being driven feral with lust.
“...plus a liiiiittle more, because I’m feeling generous,” Kafka finished undoing all her buttons, leaving her shirt fully open. She stretched, smirking as she watched his bloodshot gaze latch onto her every movement, and linger for especially long on her plump bosom.
He didn’t even have the sense to beg anymore. All he could do was stare, panting like a wild beast as Kafka flaunted her voluptuous figure just out of his reach.
“And now,” she indicated the chair from earlier with a tilt of her head. “Sit.”
He would have moved even without her ropes walking him along like a puppet. The trailblazer collapsed in his chair, his whole body on the verge of burning up.
And Kafka–merciless to the very end–stretched out one long leg towards him, pressing her heel ever-so-gently into his groin.
“Hrghh…! Hhff–!”
He jerked in his seat, instinct alone driving his eyes to roll. Pleasure threatened to sear the last dregs of sanity he had, and Kafka seemed very keen on being a flame chaser. She looked at him, with that vacant, insidious smile on her face, as she slowly, slowly, sloooooowly rolled her boot around his tent, even as the stains of oozing pre-cum continued to darken his trousers.
“You poor, poor thing,” she cooed. “You look like a sick puppy, growling at me like that.”
“I’m…” Caelus could barely force the words out, especially as Kafka added her other foot to her ministrations, this time giving his crotch a sharp rap . “Going… to…!”
The pain and pleasure–not to mention the humiliation–was driving him insane. While her boots were busy toying with his aching cock, Kafka played with herself. She raised her hands to her tits, giving them each a good, long squeeze, teasing him with the prospect of just how big and soft they were.
“Going to… what?” she hummed. “You need to be specific. I can’t read your mind, you know?”
He didn’t believe a single word that slipped from that serpent tongue of hers. All she wanted was to wring more amusement out of him.
But he couldn’t think. His abused body wouldn’t allow him to. With all the blood rushing down to his throbbing cock, his pants damn near on the verge of tearing, and Kafka just– kept– stroking–
“Khh, Kafka–!”
It was too much. Caelus lurched forward, crying out as his cock twitched, once, twice, and then all the pent-up heat surged forth–
Only for her to stop, lifting her feet clear of his body.
Denied of stimulation at the last possible second, Caelus hissed, gnashing his teeth together as he felt the agony of his climax; bubbling at the very edge of release, only to slowly, slowly begin to recede.
“...haahh… ugh…!” he gasped, his whole body shaking and heaving as he came crashing down from his dry orgasm. His mind was blank–seared white with pleasure–and burned with that deep, twisting frustration at being toyed with.
“On second thought, maybe this head’s easier to read,” Kafka’s voice remained as singsong, as nonchalant as ever, as she slid off her throne and stepped between Caelus’ legs.
The next thing he knew, her hands were on his hips, and his trousers were sliding down his body. She took her time, paying no need to him twitching and gasping with every inch of skin she exposed to the cool air. Or perhaps she was simply hiding her sick delight.
It felt like an eternity before she disrobed him. Once she’d slipped his pants off each of his ankles, she took the time to stand up, lean in close, and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. An empty gesture of affection, given what she’d just put him through. Next to go was his underwear, and she was just as keen to keep toying with his sanity.
“Getting all nice and hard for little old me?” Kafka purred as she inspected the raging bulge in his underpants–with both her eyes and her hands. “Aww, you shouldn’t have.”
Caelus jerked in his chair, her threads digging into his flesh as her perfectly manicured nails danced along the length of his clothed bulge.
Shouldn’t have? Shouldn’t have what?! Fallen for her devilish charms and that succubus body of hers? Like he had a choice in the matter!
“You–” Caelus coughed, nearly choking on his own spit as Kafka stuck her head between his legs, planting a kiss on his bulge. “–you’re a monster…”
“Who, me?”
She raised an eyebrow at him as she stood back up, a thin string of drool still dangling from her lips. Kafka wiped it away with a sigh.
“You’re not really in a position to say that, you know? It takes one to know one...”
Kafka straddled him then, each of her slender legs on either side of his lap–and then she sat down. Caelus hissed in agony, his arms shuddering in their bonds as he instinctively tried to grab her, and found himself rewarded with only pain for his persistence.
“...because it looks to me like you’ve got a little beast of your own,” she breathed into his ear.
Even if they’d had all their clothes on, the position they were in was already too scandalous to be mistaken for anything else. The trailblazer, trembling in his chair, his arms bound fast to his sides, with the Stellaron Hunter nestled comfortably in his lap, her hips rocking idly against his. But he was naked save for his soiled briefs, and her shirt was unbuttoned down to the navel. The feeling of her gloves against his skin, her clothes against his lap, and her boots pressing into his calves drove a painful blush into his face that threatened to spread through the rest of his body. And he knew Kafka could see that flush spreading with those vacuous, lidded eyes of hers.
She slipped her fingers into his underwear, and even then she still stalled for time. Lightly pinching his loins, fiddling with the waistband of his briefs… before finally ripping them off.
“Oh my,” her gaze snapped down to his cock as it sprung from its confines, slapping her in the belly. “Your ball bat seems to have gotten larger since we last met.”
It was a crude, simple joke. But now that his clothes were gone, clear fluids were drooling from the tip of his manhood and staining her skin–out of sheer desperation for her to just touch him–even that snide jab sent jolts of pleasure through his body.
“Well?” Kafka cocked her head, her hands massaging his shoulders as she looked into his bleary eyes. “Is there something you’d like me to do for you and your little monster?”
At this distance, with her breath tickling sweetly against his nose, she was utterly intoxicating. Her every word was a gunshot, punching holes in his resistance. Her every gesture was a decisive cut, slashing his pride into shreds. Caelus wasn’t sure if she had the mercy to continue–unless he asked for it.
…and yet, sitting here gave him easy access to that emergency button. He could hit it if he just kicked his leg up, and Kafka wouldn’t be in time to stop him. The entire crew of the Express would storm his room in seconds to come to his aid.
But he’d already thrown his lot in with the devil.
What else was there to do but sink deeper into her embrace?
Let me go? No… Caelus grit his teeth and hissed as her nails dug into his skin. A gesture of mock affection, a warning that he was wasting her time. Their time.
She bit her lip in impish glee as she watched Caelus rack his lust-addled brain, and he knew that she knew the dilemma she’d stuck him in. With the way she was straddling him, she was giving him the freedom to kick that emergency button–if he could bear to do such a horrible thing to himself.
He thought about kissing her again. He thought about giving into her wicked whims and pleading with her to let him cum, even just once. He thought about the aching throb that shot through his loins when he stared down at those perfect, plush breasts of hers that she dangled before him, and he wondered how they would feel sandwiching his cock.
“Please–”
The word left his lips in a whisper. So weak, so fragile. Caelus was appalled by the sound of his own voice, but Kafka’s lips curled into that cruel, cruel smirk. A light tug of her strings loosened the bonds around his body
After all, a man dying of thirst would drink even venom .
“...say it,” she hissed.
Her gloves fingers coiled around his cock, promising equal parts pain or pleasure, depending on his next move.
“...please, let me…” Caelus almost made it to the edge of the abyss, only for a pathetic thing called pride to hold him back at the very last second. He shook his head, furious with himself, and Kafka gave his dick a flick for his transgression. He winced.
“Go on,” she cupped his cheek, as tenderly as a mother should. But her other hand stayed on his cock; pinching, flicking, teasing each bead or precum that leaked forth.
“Hrrk– K-Kf…khh–!”
He thrashed in his bindings, now able to move, but not nearly enough to fight back. Her eyes widened in sick thrill as she watched him struggle, exposing more of those blank, inhuman irises.
“Tell me what you need,” she urged him.
Caelus’ vision blurred at the corners with every word she slipped into his ears. His heart was pounding against his chest so hard he feared his ribs might crack, and all he could think of was her . Her warmth, her scent, her soulless cruelty, and how it all enthralled him, leaving him dangling helplessly in her web as he grew weaker and weaker. If this kept up, he wasn’t sure if he would just pass out from the strain.
“Please–!”
He almost wailed, and even Kafka seemed mildly surprised at his desperation.
“Please let me cum… mistress Kafka…!”
He had to croak out the last bit, dislodging that deep-rooted shred of resistance in his chest, and spitting it out with the last of his dignity.
“‘Mistress’?” Kafka pursed her lips. “Well, that’s another m-word. Can’t decide what you want to call me, huh?”
Caelus kept his head bowed; humiliated, unsure if he’d displeased her; too afraid to look her in the eye. Hot tears sprung to the corners of his eyes as she stood up, the weight of her body leaving his almost driving him to panic. He had upset her, hadn’t he? And now, she was going to just leave him alone to suffer–
A slender finger hooked under his chin.
“...but that’s the you I like.”
She tilted his head up.
“Always so eager to please,” Kafka lowered herself, making sure that his eyes never broke contact with hers. “So cute. So easy.”
Was he really like that? Caelus’ face burned with shame, but somehow, hearing it as a compliment from her made him feel less tragic.
“Since you’ve been so good, I’ve decided I’ll let you cum,” she knelt between his legs.
His heart soared, but Caelus mentally steeled himself for the catch; the poison in her promise.
“But,” she sang. “You have to do it yourself.”
There it was. As soon as the words left her lips, Kafka twisted her wrist, letting her web tug Caelus up and out of his chair. She forced him to stand, letting her ropes go slack. Vertigo, combined with the blood rushing back into his legs, had Caelus stumbling forward. But he willed himself to stay upright, willed himself to make the most of this chance she’d given him. Even when his cock slapped against her cheek, she merely scoffed, making no move to help him out of his predicament.
He was on his own.
“Go on,” Kafka urged him.
Under her scrutiny, the mere act of touching himself seemed alien, forbidden. What should have very much been a solo activity now filled him with shame. But he was far too desperate, far too eager to prove himself to give a damn about his damaged dignity.
His hands slid down his body, drifting to his loins with barely suppressed urgency. Kafka watched him, smirking with sick glee as he grabbed his throbbing cock. It was time for the marionette to put on a show for his puppeteer.
So he danced–his fist pumping furiously along the length of his dick, mixing his sweat and pre-cum into a lurid lube, shlick shlick shlicking to the tune of his performance. Pleasure and pain surged through his body as he pounded away, desperately chasing the high he’d been denied.
“Look at you go,” Kafka bit her lip. “It’s throbbing so hard it looks almost painful.”
Had he the strength to argue, he would have blamed her for his present agony. He grit his teeth instead, letting his frustration fuel his arousal. He was furious at himself, ashamed that he’d crumbled so easily to the Stellaron Hunter. If only it didn’t feel so good to be her plaything.
“Ghh… hrgh… khhh–” Caelus couldn’t keep his voice down, leaving him no choice but to let his undignified moans spill forth.
He let his gaze roam. Raking down her pillowy tits that barely fit her lacy bra, and sliding further to admire her toned belly. How badly he wanted to just sweep her off her feet, bury his face in her–anywhere–and mark her as his own. She noticed him staring, and her smile only grew wider as she cupped her breasts, squeezing them for his pleasure. Tempting him.
“Mmm, that must feel so good after holding back for so long,” she breathed. “Go faster. Do it for me.”
And so he pumped harder, uncaring of the precum staining his hands and dripping onto the floor tiles. He could feel the heat in his loins swelling and spiking. He choked a groan out of himself as his rough pumps battered the base of his shaft. Kafka leaned back as his efforts intensified, lest he accidentally punch her in the face. Caelus could barely remember a past where fighting her had been in the cards.
There wasn’t an ounce of technique or rhythm in his strokes. Only the relentless pounding of his clenched fist as he jerked on his throbbing shaft. His other hand found its way to her head, and–miraculously–she let him hold on to her for support as he continued to pump away.
“Kafka… g-ghh…!”
For a while, they remained entwined like this. Kafka merely watched and smiled, a low hum slipping from her lips. Caelus gasped and panted like a dog in heat, his fingers gripping at her lovely hair, the color of wine and no doubt just as sweet. He wondered if she would mind him staining it white and sticky with his spunk.
“...mmm, fuck,” Kafka sighed, and Caelus hissed as her breath tickled his tip. “You’re really… getting into it, huh?”
He didn’t know if the lights were playing tricks on him, but he swore Kafka’s face was more flushed than before. But it definitely wasn’t an illusion when she reached up to her chest and slipped her bra free. She let the garment fall into her lap as the trailblazer’s eyes bulged, instantly gluing themselves to her bare tits.
“So easy,” she echoed, smirking up at him.
“...y-your… fault… h-haagh…”
His hands weren’t clean either, but damn if it didn’t feel good to surrender.
“You must be getting close, hmm?” she murmured. “Why don’t you let me count you down?”
Hypnotized by the succubus at his feet, Caelus was ill-equipped to disagree. He could only respond with a shaky nod.
“Sixty…”
“...!” Caelus nearly keeled over in fright.
“I jest,” Kafka giggled. “Ten… oh, that cock of yours is so big, and it smells lovely from down here.”
He kept pumping, kept grunting.
“Nine… you’ve been such a well-behaved boy. Maybe I’ll suck on it if you keep being good for me.”
Kafka hooked her arm under her breasts. She squeezed them, showing off just how big and soft they were. Caelus could only moan, bits and pieces of her name spilling from his cracked lips along with the last of his sanity.
“Eight,” she blew on his cock, choking out an undignified whine from her prey. “It’s getting a bit stuffy in these clothes, too. Wanna help me out of them?”
Assuming Kafka didn’t mind him tearing them off her obscene body. But given the naughty glint in her eye, it was clear that was exactly what she wanted him to do.
“Seven… maybe if you cum hard enough, I’ll let you fuck me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Oh, he would give the world .
“Six. Nearly halfway. With a body like this, and a cock like that… you’re quite the stud.”
A compliment out of nowhere. Caelus’ vision was beginning to blur at the corners as he pumped rough and fast, feeling the familiar heat begin to spike and throb in his loins.
“Five… don’t tell me you’ve never gotten frisky with the Expressers,” Kafka tilted her head, letting her tongue slide across her lips as she wet them. “No? Their loss.”
He had to slow down as a wave of pleasure shot through him, his knuckles turning white as he willed himself to pause–lest he finish right there and then.
“Four,” she chuckled, leaning forward and licking up the bead of precum at the very tip of his cock. “Hmm, I wonder if that makes me your first? Sorry for ruining you for all the other girls.”
He couldn’t give less of a damn about other girls. All he wanted, all he ever wanted, was Kafka. He would show her, he would prove it to her as many times as he wanted–no, as she needed.
“Three… you’re panting like a dog,” she purred. “Maybe I’ll put a leash back on you after this. Or maybe I’ll let you put one on me?”
He lurched, nearly losing his footing as a tremor ran through his leg. By now, he was holding onto a fistful of her hair, and it was taking all of his self-control not to force her down on his cock. She was so close to him, and he could feel her every breath, her every word tickling his trembling, sensitive flesh.
“Two… you’re so very good at listening to me… so here’s your last little order.”
She sat up straighter, lifting her tits with her arm. The pressure in his loins was reaching a fever pitch. All he could see was her, and all he could think of was her.
“One,” Kafka opened her mouth, letting her tongue loll out. “Boom. Go ahead and cum for your mommy.”
The roar that ripped from his throat was more beast than human–and Caelus let himself go.
“G-ghh, FUCK–!”
His cock erupted, blasting ropes of hot, thick seed right into Kafka’s waiting lips. For the first time since she’d stripped him, she broke eye contact, if only to stare at his spurting cock as he seeded her mouth in an instant. He kept pumping, grunting and gasping as his vision blurred, his senses slowly shutting down in favor of wringing every last drop of cum out of his abused body. His next spurt streaked stickily across her tits, and Kafka cooed in appreciation.
“There’s so much… mmm,” she blinked one eye shut as a wad of spunk splattered across her face. “Keep it up, yes, just like that…”
She kept her breasts squished together, letting his jism coat her face and chest, dribbling into a pool of obscene stickiness in her cleavage. Caelus couldn’t remember ever being so horny in his life, and yet, this was the grip that Kafka had on him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her swaying, cum-stained tits, or the lurid fuck-me eyes she was giving him. His fist continued to furiously pump away, wringing load after thick load out of his cock, making damn sure to repay Kafka’s kindness with ALL the cum he had to give.
Even when his cock began to grow flaccid in his hands, Caelus continued to pump, growling like an animal in heat as he fervently tried to coax more seed out of himself–as though the mess he’d made of Kafka’s face, mouth, and tits wasn’t reverence enough. Already, the wads of seed that she couldn’t catch trickled down her tits, belly, and cheeks, leaving the Stellaron Hunter sitting in a puddle of jism.
It seemed like forever before his orgasm waned, and Caelus groaned again as his next pump yielded only a weak, clear dribble. He remained rooted to the spot, shuddering as fatigue and soreness coursed through his body. Kafka leaned forward, and her lips wrapped around the crown of his cock in a slow, affectionate kiss. She lingered for a while, gently licking up the last, drooling drops of his seed, swirling around the cum she held in her mouth until he was well and truly dry.
Pulling back with a hum, she made certain he was looking at her before she swallowed.
“It seems you like me being your mommy,” she breathed. “Well, I think… you’ve made a pretty convincing argument for yourself.”
What he had made, was a goddamn mess out of her. Kafka’s entire face was covered in sticky webs of semen, her tongue hanging from her red lips as she fought to catch her breath. Ropes of seed continued to drip from her chin, her hair gelled into filthy clumps by his jism. She leaned back and released her tits, letting the pool of gathered cum spill onto the rest of her body. Caelus’ head felt leaden, and his limbs felt like they were due to fall off his body at any second, but he still found the strength to remain standing as Kafka slowly got to her feet. She didn’t seem to care as his cum dripped down her clothes, staining her shirt, shorts, and tights.
But Caelus found a reason to care. Even as she gave his hands a gentle, tender squeeze, that same sweet smile curling at her lips, he realized that he wanted to fuck her until those slender legs of hers gave out. And the look in her eyes told him that she wanted the exact same thing.
“Let’s get this mess cleaned up,” she whispered, her words already tugging him to follow her toward the bathroom. “I wonder if you have a tub to yourself.”
“I do,” he replied quickly. “If you want, I can help…”
“You’re so easy,” she purred. “Can’t wait to get your paws on me already, huh?”
He blushed, unable to deny her accusation. But had he been less distracted, his mind not reduced to utter rot by her venom, he might have been cognizant of the sound of footsteps, slowly approaching the door to his room.