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It's honestly funny how much he did before you realized his intentions. Maybe because Sylus is really good with his fingers and mouth, or maybe because he always pushes you into a nap after you have an orgasm. You didn't realize the problem until Tara asked one day, during a cozy night drinking in her house, sharing dirty anecdotes like girls do.
“Okay, but, can I ask something indecent about your boyfriend?” She said, her cheeks red. Tara cuddled closer to you, a mischievous smile on her lips. “He is really tall and obviously big.” She bites her bottom lip, looking at you. “Didn't it hurt during your first time together? I honestly think you are brave for that.”
And that's when your smallest worry explodes in your mind.
You think Sylus has done to your body every thing imaginable, god, he can spend literal hours eating you out. He puts bites in your skin, fingers you until you are screaming his name, and plays little games with you when you are in the mood to tease. But he never allows you to return the favor: if you put a hand on his pants, he just laughs and goes back to kissing you breathless. Whispering in that dangerous voice of his that you are apparently not tired enough yet. Sylus distracts you every time you try to see his dick, and you don't really understand why.
You drink a little of your fruity drink. “I don't know how big he is.” You confess, pouting a little. “He never takes out his pants when we… you know.”
Tara’s mouth forms a perfect O before she reacts, looking away for a moment. “Oh.” She says, then frowns in thought. “But I thought you said he was bad keeping his hands out of you.”
You nod, blushing a little. “Yes, his hands. And mouth too.” You feel too drunk to care about your rude language. “But the situation is always about me. He can give me five perfect orgasms without asking for anything in return.”
Tara frowns, patting your leg in consolation. “Isn't that like, better?” She says, tilting her head. “I think every woman would love a selfless man.” Tara huffs, her own experiences coming to mind. “They always want more in return.”
You laugh, now patting her shoulder in consolation. “It's not the same. This isn't a fling, it's my very serious boyfriend who we are speaking about.” You say, drinking the rest of your glass. “I want him to feel as good and satisfied as I do. In every aspect.”
“Maybe he just doesn't like receiving.” Tara says, fast, trying to make excuses so you don't feel bad. “There’s people like that too! Who doesn't like being touched but loves watching the pleasure of their partners.”
You look up to the ceiling, groaning. “But he does love my touch. He always groans when I tug his hair and his eyes do this weird thing where they get more red and-” You cover your face with your hands. “I don't know. This is the first time a man doesn't take the initiative with me for that, you know? It's confusing.”
Tara goes back to rubbing your leg, trying to show her support. “I know. But that doesn't mean there's something wrong with you or what you do.” She says, pinching your cheek to get your attention back. Tara then tilts her head, saying her last theory. “Maybe he just has some complex or trauma with that part of himself!” Tara gets closer, whispering with red cheeks. “Maybe he can't make it stand.”
Your eyes go wide, the idea is something genius in your very drunk mind. “You are right!” You say, turning to Tara. “I should ask him. Maybe he is suffering and I don't know it.”
Tara blinks in confusion, words trapped in her throat when she sees you take out your phone. “Wait. Right now?” She moves closer to you to see your screen. “Are you sending him a message?!”
“Of course.” You answer like it's obvious, your fingers never stopping. “Do you have some complex or trauma about your dick?” You say out loud while you write. Frowning before adding. “I will still love you if your dick doesn't work.”
Your phone rings immediately after you send the message, the sweet nickname for Sylus shining on the screen, and Tara squeaks and covers her mouth when you answer. Sitting really close to hear the conversation while you try to push her away with giggles.
“Kitten?” Sylus says from the other side. And Tara moves her eyebrows up and down at the nickname.
“Yes, It's me. Why are you calling?” You ask, trying to sound proper, but the words feel heavy on your tongue.
Sylus huffs, incredulous. “Well, I thought some pervert stole your phone after that last message.” He says, half serious. “Want to explain yourself?”
“Does your dick work?” You say, nervous and too fast. Tara makes some signals to you that you don't understand, staying quiet for a few seconds. “I need to know that.”
“You are drunk.” Sylus sentences, a big and tired sigh coming from his side of the line. “I will forgive your offense just because you are drunk. Now tell me where you are.”
“Nope.” You say, frowning. He is making you feel like a kid and you can't let it go. “Answer my question. It's serious.”
There's silence. And for a moment you think the call ended. But then Sylus is mumbling. “There's nothing wrong with my dick, sweetie.” He puts emphasis in the word, and you feel embarrassed for some reason, scolded.
And some sort of shame appears in your chest: it goes down to your stomach, up to your throat. It's disgusting. Weird.
You feel uncomfortable and unpredicted tears in your eyes, and your voice breaks a little. “Then why do we never have sex?” You gulp, making the next words small. “Is something wrong with me?”
“What?-”
You don't wait for his answer, you can't. Your fingers cut the call and throw the phone to your side; your other hand rubbing your teary eyes. Alcohol is such a wicked thing: it makes frustration and anxiety grow inside your guts for no reason, forces your body to produce tears like you couldn't process your feelings in any other way. Tara stops you when you get too aggressive, taking your hands in hers, and her eyes have such a deep empathy that you sob.
“I know I’m just exaggerating things.” You say, biting back a humorless laugh. “Anyone would be satisfied with what I receive. But-”
“It's not what you want.” Tara finish, patting your hands. “That's valid, okay? You can feel things that don't make sense.” She sighs, shaking her head. “But. I do think you need to speak with him about this before assuming something is wrong with you.”
You nod, speechless. Tara always becomes this weird but wise woman when she is drunk for some reason. “I know.” You take your phone again, his name on the screen shining for a call. “It's just- I don't understand. Why would a man not want any sexual pleasure?”
Tara tilts her head, thinking. “I don't know.” She sentences, and then snatches the phone from you. “But that's not something that concerns me.” A mischievous smile comes to her face, and she easily types something in your phone before you can react. “You better ask him when he gets here.”
She looks awfully proud when she shows you the message with her address; and Sylus answers too fast to erase it. You feel panic pushing up in your throat, every ounce of alcohol out of your body. And Tara sighs, holding your hands to help you stand. She offers you a box of tissues and cleans your cheeks, taking your bag from her sofa.
“I know you are scared. But this is the type of thing that you can only fix with communication.” She says, walking you to her door, your phone still in her hand. “Trust him and trust yourself, okay?”
You nod, holding your bag against your chest. “Okay.” Anxiety is still present in your belly, but you know she is right. The only option is trusting all you built with Sylus.
Tara waits for a moment and then opens the door, a motorcycle pulling in the driveway just in time. “And if he does something to you, just call me.” She winks at you, pushing you outside. “I’ll kick his ass for you.”
You hear the door closing at your back and gulp, Sylus already out of the motorcycle and walking to you. Normally, you would jump into his arms and flirt, taking advantage of how alcohol makes you feel. But you don't, not this time. You just stand there with your eyes on the floor, shame engulfing every movement of your body. And Sylus must notice the difference too, because he doesn't insist, just puts your personalized helmet over your head and kisses your forehead, softly.
“Let's get you home.” He whispers, and you hold his hand to stop him from getting away.
“We need to talk.” You say, and Sylus just nods, holding your hand to walk you to the motorcycle.
The drive to your apartment is quiet, but Sylus keeps playing with your fingers in every traffic light; making sure you know he is there, and you answer with small hits of your helmet against his. With your building in sight, you take his hand in yours, pulling him inside your apartment with red cheeks. No one says a word after the door is closed, but Sylus is immediately over you; holding your cheeks, kissing your nose, just drowning you in affection. You let out a satisfied sigh, throwing your arms over his shoulders to keep him close.
“You know there's nothing wrong with you, right?” He whispers against your lips. “I love every part of your body and soul.”
You feel butterflies in your belly, but also shame in your heart. “I know.” You say back, kissing his nose. “I love you too.”
“And you make me hard, sweetie. Always.” He clarifies, his voice as serious as before. The remark makes you laugh, and he kisses your smile before continuing. “But there's a reason why I never left you, uh, see me. More than one actually.”
That makes you take a step back, and you see his face for the first time since he picked you up. Sylus looks utterly defeated and embarrassed, and he avoids your eyes to hide in your hair, leaving small kisses over your head because he can't find the enough bravery to talk. You feel your own anxiety going down, and you hold his cheeks in your hands to guide him into a gentle kiss.
“It's fine, Sylus.” You whisper, rubbing his nose with yours. Full of confidence. “Tell me.”
Sylus stares at you for a few seconds, then sighs. “You better not back down, kitten.” His right hand wanders down to your stomach, his eyes never looking back at you. He stops a little under your belly button, frowning his eyebrows. “I think I would get around here?”
Now you are frowning, staring down at his hand with confusion. You would love to say you understand the meaning of his words immediately, but there's still alcohol in your veins; and all the fuss made your brain a little bit slow. Sylus groans at your silence, and his embarrassment finally knocks some sense into you.
You feel dizzy.
“Oh.” It's all you say, your body burning hot and fast into shame and a little bit of anticipation. “Are you saying that-” You gulp, not daring to end the phrase.
You thought you knew how huge Sylus is. How could you not? Your skin has his mark everywhere. But then Sylus is pushing you into a hug, the weight of something big pressing your stomach through his pants, and you realize all again just how different your height is from his. Everything seems to be more clear in a second: the hand that covers just perfectly your waist, the arch of your feet to make you stand on your toes so you are taller, the way his body towers over you. Sylus is huge, and everything in his body is proportional to his height.
Sylus breathes into your hair, groaning softly. “You are small, sweetie.” He kisses down your ear, making you tremble. “I’m scared of breaking you.”
You gulp again, your throat feels dry but your mouth is salivating at the same time. And the reaction of your body almost makes you feel bad, because Sylus sounds so concerned about your safety, but all you feel in your guts is a growing heat, a desire that makes your core squeeze around nothing. Maybe it's the alcohol, or just how pent up you feel after the realization of how powerless you would be if Sylus ever tried anything, you don't know. But your mind screams at you to do something.
“I need to show you something.” You say, holding his hand to pull him deeper into your apartment, right into your room.
Sylus just waits with confused eyes, following your every movement while you dig in your closet. He thinks for a moment that whatever Tara gave you made you go insane, but then you are standing back with a big and black box in your hands, so red that he wonders if you have a fever. Your fingers tremble when you open the lock, but your eyes are full of the determination he deeply loves. And that he never thought he would see so close to a bad dragon toy.
“I don't think your size will be a problem, Sylus.” You say, but he is still too impressed to look into your eyes.
It was not too long after you left the N109 zone that you bought the toy, one night that you had a little too much alcohol and the memories of the insidious boss of Onychinus were troubling your mind. You were more aware of the difference in size at that time, and the hate that you felt when he held you against your will slowly turned into need, clouding your mind with ideas about how deep he could reach, how was the form of his cock. At some point your mind got you into a sex shop on your phone, maybe because you wanted some references without looking at porn, maybe because you were filthy like that. And you saw it right at the top of the best sellers, something with ‘dragon’ in the name in red and black colours. It was perfect. You bought it without even checking the size or price.
“I never got it all inside. It would leave me too sore and I’m lazy.” You keep explaining, gulping down your shame. “But I’m certain I could if I prepare. If I’m doing it for you.”
One, two seconds go without him answering, his eyes going up and down your little treasure. You think for a moment that you broke his mind; not every man would be thrilled to know his girlfriend hid toys in her closet, not something as filthy as a medium size crackers on top of it. But then Sylus is all over you, his teeth on your bottom lip and his right hand around the back of your neck, in that subtle way of his dominance. You don't even have the time to ask between the aggressive kisses he gives you between smiles, his amusement more than confusing.
“My sweet kitten.” He says, his voice full of laughter. “How is it that you continue to surprise me?” Sylus pushes you softly to your bed, standing between your legs with a hum. “Undress.”
There's always this shift in the air when Sylus is serious, when you manage to provoke his hunger just enough to make his control snap in two. He looks calm and collected, but that makes him more dangerous, you can't stop him now, not until he has his fill. You are still pondering what is happening when something pulls your skirt up, the red and black of his evol popping the button at your back with precision.
“I'm just helping.” He says when you stare up with red cheeks, and he sounds too happy.
You undress like he said immediately, the trail of his power teasing too close to your neck when you struggle with the buttons of your blouse. Sometimes you wish Sylus was a little more messy with his evol, because the precision when it pulls your underwear down makes you get lightheaded, more than horny. Sylus chuckles at you impatient whine, and pushes you down to the bed again, one hand down on your stomach while the other shows you a half empty bottle of lube. The one you hid with the toy.
You try to pull him closer by the neck, but his evol easily presses your wrists to the bed. You curse his name out, making him laugh. “I know, I know. But I need all my sanity to do this, kitten.”
His voice is liquid anesthesia, and he releases your wrists when you melt, obeying for now. Sylus whispers a praise and kisses your forehead, his hands moving to put a pillow under your hips and force your legs open. The sight of you like this makes all the blood go between his legs, his mouth full of saliva. But he pushes his hunger to the back of his mind for now, his finger tracing the slit of your sex. Your legs jump and you both look impressed for a second: you weren't this sensitive before.
“Good lord.” Sylus whispers, his finger dripping slowly in your hole; coming back covered in sticky heat. “I just started, kitten. What is this?”
You blush, kicking his back in frustration. “You gave me material for my fantasies, it's your fault.”
Sylus laughs again, kissing your ankle before pulling it back to the bed. He then pushes two fingers inside your pussy, humming when you moan his name in desperation. His actions are methodical, flexing his fingers to press your sweet spots to get more lubrication, but never enough to produce more than anticipation. It makes you angry honestly, how he is playing with your pleasure with his eyes fixed in your hole, the wet noises coming from it his favorite entertainment.
“Stay still.” He commands without looking at your face when you start to struggle. And you groan in response. “Don't be impatient, sweetie. I need to make sure you are prepared for this.”
You kick his back again, huffing. “That's what lube is for, you know?” You complain. “You don't need to tease me like this.”
Sylus looks up to you, mischief shining in his eyes when he bends to kiss your frown. “You got me.” He whispers, moving his lips to your ear. “I just wanted to see you melt for me.”
That sends a shiver down your back, and your hips move up to get his fingers deeper with a moan. Sylus chuckles, whispering something about patience while his thumb tortures your clit; the pad of his fingers pressing the same place from inside. The stimulation makes you whimper, arching your back for more of it, but Sylus isn't that kind, not when he has a goal in mind. So he pushes your hips down, and changes the rhythm of his thumb to slow circles around your clit, pushing deeper in your pussy to see how far he can go before taking them out completely.
The sound of a bottle being opened interrupts your next complaint, and a liquid too cold to be comfortable falls right over your pussy. Sylus looks down at you with a proud smile, whispering an apology that he doesn't really mean before his fingers start to spread the lube in your insides. You swear you are losing your mind with how slow he is going, all your nerves on fire and demanding a pleasure that he doesn't plan on giving. And the anticipation is a physical pain in your guts.
“Sylus, I swear to God that if you don't-” Your complaints are again interrupted, this time by a kiss that steals your breath.
You grip his hair in anger, but don't try to push him away; taking your frustrations in a bite that makes him hiss. “So feisty and impatient.” Sylus licks the wound with a satisfied expression. “Maybe I should be less gentle with you.”
Something then pushes inside your pussy, just enough to spread you. The pleasure makes you moan, and you look down expecting to find him slowly entering you. But what you see it's plastic, your own toy covered in lube and poking your walls.
Sylus laughs at your frown. “Disappointed, kitten?” The words make your ears burn in shame. “Sorry, but you still need more preparation before taking me.”
You know he is saying it out of sincere worry, but all the shame he made you feel just pulls the worst of you. And you huff. “Oh, please. You aren't that big, Sylus.”
Silence fills the room, and his shoulders get a little tense. But then he chuckles, looking up to you with a tight smile and a voice that tries to sound calm. “I know what you are trying to do and it will not work.”
You pout, the hint of danger in his form making you all more impatient. “What? Does that mean I’m right?”
That's it. Sylus puts his left hand over your mouth, his eyes shining in red. “Tap my shoulder two times if it's urgent. I won't let you talk otherwise.”
Sylus doesn't give you enough time to answer, just adjust his grip on the toy before pushing it inside you, two then three inches disappearing without resistance. You moan against his palm, arching your back when your raw nerves feel the texture mess your walls. But he doesn't stop until six inches are pushing through the deepest part of you: no matter how much you grip the sheets and shake your head to get his hand away because you need air, he keeps pushing with his eyes fixed in the toy. It's a sick entertainment really, controlling how much oxygen you get while he does something so overwhelming and new. But can you blame him? You earned this.
“I wanted to be gentle, make this a cute experience you could share with your little friend later.” Sylus starts saying, and he sounds annoyingly hurt. “I forgot I had a feral beast in my hands.” His voice turns dangerous, and you feel the toy dragging your insides when he starts to pull. “And you need a strong and steady hand for those.”
You see stars, or maybe the circles of hell: whatever place sex with Sylus takes you to. He starts to move the toy in and out, every time forcing a little more of the big base inside you. And you feel dizzy, moaning against his palm with desperation while your nails draw crescendos in the skin of his arm. But you don't tap his shoulder, don't give him the satisfaction of letting him win yet; closing your eyes to concentrate all your strength in breathing through your nose. The action is difficult, especially when he realizes and doubles his effort to push the bulges and ridges of the toy inside your walls, pulling it enough for the tip to press every spot Sylus knows by memory now. The bastard.
You feel raw, broken in intense cries that only seem to make your situation worse, but that spark of heat just grows and grows until your back is arching and you feel dizzy. Then, when you think you could come just by penetration, Sylus stops; waiting for your eyes to focus before taking his hand out of your mouth. He watches you take desperate and confused breaths with a smile: an act of cruelty dressed in mercy. And you are about to ask when he descends over your lips to kiss, slow drags of his lips turning into a demanding tongue that makes you feel as lightheaded as his hand.
But the worse comes then, when, without stopping the kiss, Sylus pushes the last of the toy inside you; and you swear the tip bruises something, some sort of spot that blurred the limit between pain and pleasure. He swallows your scream with a satisfied smile, keeping the toy in your deepest point with his knee while his fingers find your clit, teasing it without a care for your pleas. You think your mind breaks at some point, the unknown pressure in multiple nerves that you never touched is hard enough to process without sobbing, and the added touch of sharp pleasure confuses the last of your sanity, snaps the restrictions into two pieces.
You don't have the mind to see it, but the moment you give up the last of your moral Sylus’s eyes glow in deep red, and he hums in satisfaction. He watches his treasure fall apart around a toy in his colours with fangs pricking his lip, admires the arch of your back with his evol breaking his belt to free himself. And finally, oh, this is his favorite moment: you gasp his name in that tiny voice of you that sounds desperate, full of those desires he devours for fun. You are soaked in the aftermath of a shattering orgasm, and Sylus does his best to ignore his throbbing erection when he slowly pulls the toy and you whine.
“Insatiable.” Sylus whispers with amusement, pushing two fingers inside your dilated walls just to hear you cry again. “But don't worry, my treasure. I think you are finally ready to be filled properly.”
Finally.
The words rumble in what's left of your mind, a knot formed in your stomach. Sylus slowly pulls you on his lap, massaging your thighs until you are sure they can support your weight, and for a few seconds, nothing happens. You can see certain anxiety in his eyes now that you are close; and your heart melts inside your chest. It's difficult to believe this is the same man that forced a orgasm out of you a few seconds ago, especially when you hold his cheeks and he nuzzles your palm with a deep sigh.
“...Are you sure?” He asks, his voice just above a whisper.
You frown, biting the remark in your tongue. You have his cock poking your ass, sore spots inside that will make you walk weird for days, lube uncomfortably dry on your thighs, and he still asks if you are sure? You feel like tormenting him for a moment, but then you feel his fingers clench around your thighs. Sylus is doing his best to restrain himself, and you can feel it. Always putting your safety first.
So you smile and kiss his lips instead, slowly building up tension. “Yes, Sylus.” You say, squeezing his cheeks. “I think I will die if you don't fuck me today.”
Sylus chuckles, biting your palm. “I can't let that happen, can I?” He says, leaving kisses down from your neck to your shoulders.
You let him guide your hips up to angle his tip with your hole, and a spark of anticipation goes through your body. Sylus keeps his mouth on your skin, waiting for you to slip him inside at your own rhythm; but his hands never leave your ass, trembling when you take inch after inch effortlessly. The pressure in your walls is maddening, every nerve in fire when his member touches all your sweet spots at the same time, the tip nestled so deep that your instincts tell you to back off. A broken moan escapes you when you look down and see part of him still out, your thighs are trembling too much to continue and his hands are the only things stopping them from collapsing.
“Sylus.” You whine, and for a moment both of you think this won't work. But you are nothing if not bold. “Pull me down. I can take it.”
Sylus huffs against your skin, but doesn't dare to do something apart from obey. He can't, probably. All his mind is busy enjoying the warmth of your core, how beautiful you look taking him and, more importantly, keeping enough sanity to stop if you get hurt. His hands slowly push you down, putting the last inches inside you until you are impossibly full, your nails buried in his back at the shock of pleasure and pain. And both of you moan when the panic makes you clench around him.
Sylus kisses your skin, trying to distract you. “Breath for me, kitten.” You do as he says, and Sylus sighs. “That's my girl. Again.”
A few seconds go like that, with you trying to get used to the insane pressure in your guts; and he slips a little deeper when you finally relax. “I’m fine.” You whisper with a broken voice, nuzzling his hair. “You can move now.”
Sylus doubts for a moment, but holds you again when you try to take the matter in your hands with trembling legs. He almost laughs at your prideful gaze, pulling slowly from inside you before thrusting in a fast action. And you arch your back in his hands, a choked whine out of your mouth; you don't think you are capable of controlling your voice anymore, or your body even. The drag of his cock against your walls is a sensation that you can't describe in a coherent phrase: it's hot, too much, not enough, painful but so heavenly that you can't get away. A good angled thrust makes his tip hit that something and you scream his name, burying your nails so deep that you almost draw blood from his skin.
Sylus stops in panic, searching for your eyes. “Are you okay? Did it hurt?” He sounds worried, and he holds your cheek to help you focus.
You shake your head immediately, trying to push him inside again using your hips. “A little but-” You bite your lip, looking up at him with impatience. “Do it again.”
He looks confused for a moment, but then his eyes shine in red and his expression turns mischievous, hungry. “Oh, I see.” Sylus whispers, dragging himself out slowly. “You like the pain.”
You can't defend yourself. Not when he goes and thrust against that spot again and again in deep and slow thrusts, his cock poking insistently that place you know he shouldn't reach. Tears roll down your cheeks before you can process it, and you fall on his shoulder in the overwhelming situation. This isn't entirely about physical pleasure; for some reason the idea of Sylus being big enough to bruise your cervix makes your body burn in fever, moaning his name in his ear to get more. And the bad contained moans or curses that rumble from his chest have you clenching around his length, his size more clear with every heartbeat. The orgasm that grows in your guts is uncomfortable, a twisted thing that makes your mind go blank and reconsider what you knew about yourself before.
You will never go back from this, uh?
“I think-” You start, swallowing the spit in your mouth. “I think you are about to break me, Sylus.”
He tenses immediately, the weak but amused tone of your voice makes him curse and lose his rhythm, but Sylus tries to look unaffected. “Is that a complaint?”
You shake your head, searching for words in the sea of clouds that it's your brain. “No.” You say, getting close to his face so you can speak over his lips. “I want you to ruin me, Sylus. Make sure I can't ever be satisfied without you.”
Sylus chuckles, an incredulous sound that hides the wave of arousal that goes through his body, he almost comes just from your words. So embarrassing. He grabs your hips in a vice grip, pulling you down when he thrusts up; finding your deepest point in a rhythm that makes you incoherent. Your nails draw blood this time, but that just makes Sylus go faster, harder: his fingers caressing your belly and down with a hungry expression. Then a thought comes to his mind.
You don't have enough time to process the change of positions when he pushes you to the bed, because he is immediately on top of you thrusting in again. You arch your back, your legs closing around his hips to keep him close, impossibly deep. And Sylus hums when he takes a moment to look at you fully, his palm descending over your abdomen, down and down until he finds what he wants. The next thrust comes with pressure from his hand, and you choke in your own voice at the sensation.
“Look at you.” Sylus whispers, pressing down again; his eyes full of satisfaction when he feels something. “You are so small, kitten. I can feel myself if I press down here.”
Sylus does it again, thrusting up in an angle that makes pain and pleasure explode behind your eyes; his palm forcing the last of your muscles to endure his strength. You try to push him away, mumbling something between “too much” and “please”, but Sylus doesn't look worried at all, keeping his eyes where his hand covers half of your belly. His thrusts become wild again, his lips coming for yours in a kiss that's all teeth and need. You feel lightheaded, right on the edge; and a brush of his fingers over your clit is enough to make you climax.
Your walls clench around him, and you leave out such a desperate cry that Sylus follows you immediately. He pulls your hips against his, coming in the deepest point he can reach with a low moan on the lips. But the kiss between you two doesn't end there, you lazily follow his mouth for a while, your thighs still as tight as they can around his waist. And Sylus laughs, getting away with a small squeeze of your leg.
“I can't pull out if you don't let me go.” He says, but you just ignore him for another kiss. And Sylus huffs. “Sweetie, this will be more painful for you if you don't let me do proper aftercare.”
“This is proper aftercare.” You say, trying to hug his neck with very weak arms. “I wanna cuddle, Sylus. You are supposed to just say yes and shut up.”
Sylus laughs at that, kissing what he can reach. You think for a moment that you actually convinced him, because he goes back to your lazy make out session for a while, but just enough to make your thighs relax a little so he can grip them and force them open. And you gasp at the shameless betrayal, especially because you don't have enough strength left to fight against his arms.
He rolls his eyes at your pout. “So spoiled.” Sylus mumbles, cutting your words when he starts to pull out slowly; the overstimulation makes you whimper in pain. “See? You are too sore to be this bratty, kitten. Behave and let me take care of you.”
You really want to curse and throw a fit for a moment for some reason, the feelings about your sudden emptiness confusing to say the least. “But I worked so hard to get you inside, Sylus.” You say, melting on your bed. “How can we stop after just one round?”
Sylus looks at you with surprise, your sincere tone makes his heart throb in his chest. He didn't think this would affect you that much, that you so desperately craved that type of connection. His hands hold your face, and he fills you with soft kisses, helping you relax again. You almost feel sleepy.
“We can do this again whenever you want, okay?” He promises, then smiles playfully. “I’m sorry for underestimating you, kitten.”
That makes you laugh, putting a dumb smile on your face. “It's fine. I also doubted I could take you for a moment.” You add. “But I did! That's the important part.”
The expression on Sylus’s face changes for a moment: some type of lie is being told, and he runs from your eyes. “Well, technically you didn't take all.”
You blink in confusion, now sitting. “What do you mean by that? I’m sure I did.” Sylus looks really guilty right now, and it would be funny if you didn't feel so offended right now. “Sylus. What do you mean?”
Sylus stares at you, and sighs with his ears red. “You know already I’m not precisely human, right?” You nod, and he looks away again. “That means I can take another form, something that's closer to my old self.” He explains, rubbing his neck. “I’m taller, stronger and, you know, bigger.”
Your mouth falls open. It closes and opens again before your mind can react. What did he just say? Another form? Bigger?
That's it.
You have a new mission.