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Your eyes are closed, your breathing loud. Quick. With each passing second it gets louder, quicker. Your hands grip at your thighs, keeping them close to your chest, your breasts pushing against the top of them.
You feel your sweat cooling off on your skin in some places, the warmth intensifying in some others. You try your best to swallow the pooling saliva around the moans vibrating your throat, echoing in the room. The harmony of your sweet sounds and the filthiness of your wetness as the body laying on top of yours rubs a hard cock against your pussy.
You wouldn't be able to see him in this position even if your legs weren't blocking your view. But you can feel him. You can hear him. And the friction on your clit is so sweet, you swear you can almost taste him. His lips, maybe from before when the two of you kissed. Or his precum, a flavour you're so familiar with at this point, loving to warm him whenever you get the chance.
Your fingers curl in your meaty thighs, your nails pushing against the skin. He's been keeping you on the edge for close to an eternity, or maybe what would be around half an hour if your brain was in any shape functioning.
He's had you stay as quiet as you can, but you just can't help the breathy moans that leave your lips. All you know is the dizziness at the edges of your being because of how shallow you've been breathing. All you know are the tops of his thigh pressing against your ass. All you know is that sweet cock of his you love so much just rubbing against you. All you know is how his tip sometimes presses against your entrance, mocking, taunting.
You feel yourself fluttering against him. Your body begging, sopping wet, for him to finally slide in. Waiting with baited breath for that push. Craving the closeness. Craving the intimacy. Craving the power behind his thrusts.
You feel him pull back, a whine on your lips, before you feel his spit on your pussy. Useless. Your body rocking on its own, in frustration, in hunger. You want to cry out, you want to whine, you want to complain. There's no need for more lubrication, you've already made a mess of yourself and the pillow beneath your hips. Of his cock, of both of your thighs.
Before even getting your wits together enough to voice your complaints, his instructions be damned, you feel his broad tongue licking you, from your anus to your clit. His tongue piercing feels heavily against you. A high pitched moan, the only verbalization you can let out.
"Hmm. I think you might be ready for it now." He says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. You've been ready for it when he came home, his pink and purple hair a mess from rehearsal, having missed him the whole day.
And you would have made your indignation known with a stern look were you able to look at him, and were you able to actually gather the strength to do so.
Finally, after waiting for so long, he straightens himself, grabs your legs and puts them around his thighs. You look at him with love in your eyes, a thirst for him he was used to.
The worship of one another you both engaged in was divine. And this was one of his holy rituals. To torture you with the thing you wanted most. To make you as wet as he could, before pushing himself in, and giving the both of you what you've been craving.
He keeps his hold on your thighs, a sharp and calculating look in his eyes.
"You've been such a good girl for me, haven't you?" He asks.
You swallow around the knot in your throat. You know that glint in his eyes. You feel tears in your eyes, spilling over, trying to beg him with a look.
"Mhmm," you let out, breathy, with a moan, like the mess you are.
The corner of his lips raise, his head cocks to the side. Inquisitive. Unassuming.
"And you love being a good girl for me, don't you?"
More goading. More poking. He has you stupid, cock drunk without even putting anything inside you tonight, and he wants to play his games.
But you love it. When he gets like this, playful, mean. Because you know that no matter how much he tortures you, he'll make it be worth it. So you nod. It's all you can do.
His eyebrow cocks, an expectant look on his face. You swear internally. And you've now had enough of a break from the teasing that you can see the glint in his right eye. Where Rhaast sits. And you know the literal demon on his shoulder is behind this.
You try to speak, a croak all you can muster. You clear your throat, and let out a frail "Yes, sir."
He leans over you, pressing his stomach against you. His lips latch themselves to your earlobe and with a gravelly voice in your ear he murmurs "Good pet."
Your breath catches, and you watch him closely as he resumes your position from earlier. One of his hands goes back to his cock, and puts it over your clit. His other hand pressing against your thighs. The pressure in different points of your body feels maddening.
You assume he must have pushed down on his cock, to get more friction against your clit because he keeps rubbing the ridge of his cock-head in a way that he knows drives you crazy with need. He alternates between that and slapping his cock against your pussy.
At this point, you're dripping even more around him, moaning loudly, his orders forgotten. But that's his game. That's your game. He makes it a point to see how long it takes until he drives you to the point of forgetting some of his rules.
You've been on the edge for so long that it doesn't take all that much for the warmth to build up in your belly. You feel it closing in, its tendrils wrapping seductively around your pussy, your stomach, your chest. Your brain. Fuzziness. Stimulation. Emptiness. And you cry. Because it feels so good, but you want more. You need more. You need him inside.
And through the fog settled around you, you hear his raspy voice. "Come for me." And it's all it takes.
You're gushing, your ears ringing, a flash of white heat. And you're twitching. Your clit is twitching with over-sensitivity. Your entrance is pulsing rhythmically. You have no recollection if you made a sound or not.
But you have your answer about that when his cock enters you while you're on the outer edges of your orgasm. And for a second you think you might have squirted around him. But you don't have enough brain power to know. And you can't help but melt under him, and let him take care of you. Because you know you've been such a good girl for him. For both Kayn and Rhaast.