Ch. 95 – Something Else Took the Reins

Rhys’s knees turned completely to jelly as Shula and Seraphina kept working down below, their synchronized movements locking him in place high above the world. Floating on the slick glass skylight, the two women gave him absolutely no escape, holding his trembling body up as the cold night air washed over his damp skin.

Shula’s magical clone moved with deft, expert control, taking him deep into her mouth in a smooth, hypnotic motion that sent lightning straight up his spine. When she gracefully slid back, she yielded the space, letting Seraphina take him in greedily. Seraphina looked up at Rhys through her dark lashes, her glowing eyes swimming with an unspoken apology—begging for forgiveness for all the years she had turned her back on him, for every cold shoulder and bitter rejection from their past.

A dark, violent spasm rushed through Rhys’s fracturing mind. The suffocating weight of his guilt and mental exhaustion snapped, and it felt as though his soul was violently jerked into the backseat. Something else entirely took the reins. The mask of Omen locked onto his features with absolute, terrifying permanence.

Beside them on the glass, Shula’s clone was in the middle of giving Seraphina hands-on pointers. "I know he's a lot to handle, sweetie," the clone purred softly, "just take it slow and breathe through it..."

Before she could finish the sentence, a sudden, explosive sensation crashed through Rhys’s entire physical form, making his chest clang like a heavy bronze bell. His suppressed kinetic power flared violently, pulsing through his flesh.

Driven by raw, unadulterated instinct, Rhys reached down and slammed his large hands onto the back of Seraphina’s head. He began bucking forward with sudden, relentless fury, his conscious senses completely overthrown.

Shula’s clone let out a breathless gasp of pure excitement at the sight of his sudden aggression. Her glowing face leaned in closer, her free hand drifting frantically down between her thighs to stroke her own warmth. She looked up at Rhys with utter adoration, but the man she loved wasn't in those eyes anymore—his body was operating on pure, unhinged primal reflex.

Seraphina did everything in her power to take the full, punishing force of his thrusts, tears of pure sensory overload welling up in the corners of her eyes. She looked up at Rhys with a volatile mix of desperation, pain, and overwhelming ecstasy. Her core muscles tensed like iron bands, and the wet, rhythmic sound of their union echoed loudly off the glass dome in the quiet night sky.

From below, Shula’s clone reached up and licked him along his lower torso, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from his chest. Rhys couldn't catch a grip on reality; no rational thoughts remained, only ruthless, mechanical action. Reaching out, he placed a hand on the clone’s head and firmly pulled away from Seraphina, finally letting the winged woman catch a desperate gasp of air.

Shula’s clone looked up at him with expectant, thrilled surprise as he drove directly into her mouth with formidable strength. He bucked faster and harder. The clone took every inch, gulping against the force, her ambient Djinn magic shimmering in a radiant halo around her body.

Downstairs in the living room, the original Shula had to fight with every ounce of her supernatural willpower to keep her composure. Because of her magical link to the clone on the roof, the intense physical feedback flooded her physical senses down below. Sitting at the game table, her cheeks flushed a deep, violent crimson, and she began to squirm uncomfortably in her chair right in the middle of a sentence.

The rest of the party was still utterly locked into the heated board game, completely blind to the sensory war happening overhead. Shula bit her lower lip, forcing a pleasant smile to keep leading them along in the game.

Lira, however, was now visibly uncomfortable. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mind entirely consumed by concern over why Rhys was taking so long to bring out a simple tray of dessert. She opened her mouth, about to voice her suspicion and demand to check the kitchen, but she was abruptly interrupted by an ecstatic shout from Marcus, who had just pulled ahead of Ging on the game board.

Up above, Rhys’s relentless pace never wavered. With a hand clamped firmly on the back of both Shula's and Seraphina's heads, he systematically switched between them, relishing the stark, intoxicating difference in their reactions.

Shula’s clone would look up with a calm, dangerous pleasure as she took him in, her golden power feeding straight back into his kinetic core. Then, switching to Seraphina, the fallen angel would look up at him with total, devoted submission—almost apologetic—holding onto his wrists for dear life. She gave in entirely, surrendering every shred of her dignity whenever it was her turn.

Finally, Rhys hit his absolute limit and finished hard.

The sudden, massive release caught Seraphina completely by surprise. She took it all in a daze, the sheer, explosive sensation driving her straight over the edge into a violent, body-racking climax of her own.

Rhys let out a dark groan, his body far from finished. Seraphina couldn't contain the sheer volume, the excess spilling out over her golden lips. As she pulled back panting, Shula’s clone instantly moved in, taking him into her mouth with ravenous greed.

The clone bucked her head all the way down to his base, wringing out every last drop while licking him profusely. Rhys stood over her like an absolute demon, his face masked in shadow as he yielded the rest to her. When he finally stepped back, the release came with a loud, wet pop as the clone reluctantly let go.

Shula’s clone looked supremely, utterly satisfied, while Seraphina lay slumped back against the glass arch in euphoric shock, her broad, feathered wings twitching uselessly against the cold roof.

Down below, the game raged on. Marcus had just secured another round, gloating triumphantly to the group. The original Shula sat back in her chair looking deeply, physically satisfied—a shift that went completely unnoticed by everyone except Lira. Lira’s eyes narrowed, her gaze shifting around the room with growing, razor-sharp unease.

On the roof, Rhys’s body lurched forward without a single second of conscious thought.

Reaching down, he grabbed Seraphina by her waist, pulled her to her feet, and bent her upper body directly over the curved glass arch of the skylight, positioning her to look directly down into the living room.

Seraphina gasped in shock as her mind finally came back to reality. She looked back over her shoulder, her voice trembling. "Rhys...? What are you doing? Are you... are you sure about this?"

When she caught a full look at his face, her question died in her throat. The mask of Omen was fully on—cold, unfeeling, and utterly dominant.

An anxious, thrilling smile spread across Seraphina's lips. Rhys looked her up and down in the pale moonlight, taking in the glistening curves of her body pressed against the transparent glass. A fresh surge of raw excitement roared through his blood, and both women felt the sudden, terrifying shift in the air.

Seraphina let out a sharp, breathless gasp as Rhys drove into her with a single, brutal thrust.

She moaned in frantic ecstasy, her hips involuntarily pushing back to meet him as Rhys initiated a furious, punishing pace. Behind him, Shula’s clone glided up, wrapping her arms tightly around Rhys’s chest and pressing her body against his back as he continued to drive into Seraphina. The clone was whispering feverishly into his ear, talking about how blissful it was to finally have these decadent moments with him, but her voice was just static in his ears.

He couldn't hear her anymore. He couldn't hear anything.

Down below, completely ignorant of the dark, unspeakable act unfolding directly above their heads, the group laughed and set up the board for another round.