Chapter 143: Not Just Fucking, Making Love [4] [R18]

Rosalind gasped, blinking through a daze of golden-eyed euphoria, her chest heaving violently as she tried to catch her breath.

"Az—wait—"

Azriel caught her left leg beneath the knee and hauled it high, hooking the soft, trembling curve of her thigh securely over his broad shoulder.

The shift tilted her pelvis sharply upward, completely unshielding her drenched, weeping folds and setting his thick, still-rigid length into a devastatingly steep angle aimed directly at her deepest interior walls.

Without a second of hesitation, Azriel snapped his hips forward.

Pah!

"Aaaahh! Azriel!"

Rosalind’s shriek pierced the canopy.

The sudden, punishing intrusion tore straight through the hypersensitive aftershocks of her climax, shocking her core with an overwhelming jolt of white-hot friction.

Before she could retreat, his hand surged upward, fingers spanning her slender throat and pinning her firmly against the pillows as he set a relentless pace.

Her nails scrambled frantically over his biceps, her white tail whipping and braiding violently around his own as he hammered into her with an unbroken, savage rhythm, his violet eyes burning with electric intensity as he drove her right back into the storm.

"Ohh... ye—yesss... ahh! Azriel!"

The wet, concussive slap of their joined bodies filled the bedchamber, swallowing every other sound.

With her leg hooked over his shoulder, the steep angle granted him total access, every forward drive bottomed out with bruising, exquisite precision, parting her swollen entrance and grinding hard against her anterior wall.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

"Ah—! Haah! Azriel... mercy... you’re going to break me—!"

Rosalind’s head thrashed against the ruined silk, her white hair fanning out like a stormy tide.

Tears of sheer, blinding ecstasy traced lines down her flushed cheeks, her lips parted around fractured, wanton cries.

Azriel didn’t relent.

His jaw was clenched, the dark veins along his temples throbbing as he looked down at the undone, trembling Duchess.

A sudden, dark spark flickered behind his eyes.

With a mental pulse, he tapped his spatial ring.

A sleek, obsidian runepad materialized into his free hand.

With a quick swipe of his thumb, the recording array flared to life, its crystalline lens humming softly as he aimed it straight at her undone expression.

Rosalind’s cheeks burned molten crimson.

"Azriel, what are you doing?!" she gasped, throwing her hands up to shield her flushed face from the recording rune.

"Why are you capturing this?!"

His hand slid from her throat, his fingers catching her trembling wrists and gently parting them to bare her face to the lens.

Cupping her burning cheek, his thumb smoothed over her wet lower lip.

"Look at me, Rose," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated straight through her core while his hips kept their steady, punishing drive.

"I want to keep this forever. The night the High Duchess gave herself completely to me. The night we became one for real."

Rosalind shuddered, her dilated golden pupils locking onto his.

The raw devotion and absolute, unapologetic claim in his violet eyes struck deeper than any weapon ever could.

Her shame melted into a bold, intoxicating rush of exhibitionist heat.

Lowering her hands, Rosalind let her head fall back, arching her spine to push her heavy breasts toward the lens.

Azriel captured every illicit frame, the slight bruise of his hand around her neck, the wet clash of their lips as he leaned down to kiss her, and close, high-angle recordings of his dark, veined cock ruthlessly parting her pale, dripping folds.

At one point, he slid his thumb into her mouth, catching her pink tongue between his fingers, Rosalind locked her golden eyes onto the lens, moaning loudly around his grip, flaunting the ring on her hand in full view of the array.

[LIVE CHAT]

[Sadistic69] (Red): HE BROUGHT OUT THE RUNEPAD AND SHE IS POSING FOR IT!

[Nine_Tailed_Vixen] (Cyan): The tongue pull... the eye contact with the lens... I am actually combusting. She’s completely shameless now!

[Lusty_Sera] (Golden): Look at how the ring catches the crystal light while he pounds her from that angle... send this crystal log to my private vault RIGHT NOW.

[God_Slayer_Klara] (Red): A High Duchess letting her mate record her undone, weeping, and begging on her own silk sheets. The power dynamic in Gorgorath is officially dead.

[Moon_Priestess_99] (Cyan): This is the best stream for some nightly activities... hehe... I am saving this stream....

Fuelled by the intoxicating knowledge that her surrender was being immortalized, Rosalind’s cries grew louder, her hips lifting to meet every downward strike of his pelvis in a desperate, unhinged rhythm.

He swallowed her desperate, keening moan whole, using the seal of their lips to muffle the sound as he surged into a relentless, punishing pace.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

His pelvis slammed against hers with concussive force, lifting her hips off the mattress with every strike.

The Ring of the Moonlit Dawn on her trembling hand pulsed with blinding, electric violet radiance, its runic hum harmonizing perfectly with the furious cadence of their joined heartbeats.

Her sleek white tail whipped through the air, coiling tightly around his muscular waist, squeezing him with instinctive, feral possessiveness to ensure not a single millimeter of space separated them.

"Azriel... it’s too much—ahh!"

Rosalind’s voice shattered into a high, ragged shriek against his throat.

Her inner walls seized him in an agonizing, vice-like spasm, her third climax tearing through her pussy like a tidal wave of molten silver.

The intense, pulsating suction milked his shaft with uncontrollable ferocity, dragging Azriel straight past the edge of endurance.

A primal, guttural roar tore from his chest.

Azriel drove his hips forward one last time with bone-deep, staggering momentum, burying himself to the absolute hilt.

His entire muscular frame locked rigid, cords standing out along his neck and forearms as his cock throbbed violently against her trembling cervix.

Wave after wave of scalding seed erupted deep within her womb, a thick, searing torrent that painted her innermost core and overflowed her drenched threshold.

Rosalind keened into the crook of his shoulder, her nails scoring jagged red trails down his back as the blistering heat triggered another cascading series of aftershocks through her spine.

Yet neither of them surrendered to the quiet.

The hours dissolved into a feverish, relentless blur of friction, and animalistic stamina.

Whenever the exhaustion dragged at Azriel’s limbs, whenever his breath turned ragged and the superhuman reservoir of his stamina scraped empty against the relentless demands of her body, Rosalind refused to let the fire dim.

The sight of the Ring of the Moonlit Dawn pulsing upon her finger had unlocked something voracious, unyielding, and utterly feral within the Duchess.

"Not yet, baby," she murmured against his sweat-slicked jaw, her voice raspy, breathless, and soaked in raw, unbridled possession.

With trembling, predatory fingers, she summoned crystal vials of concentrated, high-grade stamina potions from her spatial ring.

Biting the wax seal clean off with her sharp fangs, she shoved the glass rim between his teeth, forcing the glowing azure elixir down his parched throat.

When he swallowed with a strained groan, she sealed her parted lips over his, mingling the bitter, metallic taste of alchemical vitality with the intoxicating heat of their spit.

The potion burned in his meridians like liquid fire.

His core flared, his veins hummed with lightning, and his cock surged back to stone-hard rigidity while still buried deep within her slick folds.

Rosalind didn’t wait for him to take the lead.

Straddling his hips, her knees digging into the mattress on either side of his ribs, she slammed her pelvis down with dizzying, fluid cruelty.

Her wet, swollen pussy stretched and molded around his thick shaft, taking every agonizing inch back into her drenched warmth.

She threw her head back, her white hair whipping like moonlight through the dim bedchamber, her plush breasts bouncing wildly as she set a merciless, rolling bounce that wrung desperate growls from his throat.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

The sharp, wet cadence of their collision echoed through the estate corridors, drowning out the gentle chiming of the courtyard crystals.

She rode him until her thighs trembled with exhaustion, only for Azriel’s hands to lock onto her waist, flipping her beneath him once more to drive into her from behind, or pinning her against the carved headboard until the sturdy white wood splintered under their relentless force.

Her white tail remained fiercely entangled with his, an unbroken lock of white and black.

When her voice grew too hoarse to scream his name, she bit into the curve of his shoulder, muffling her ragged cries against his skin as his pelvis battered against hers in continuous, bruising waves.

Over and over, he flooded her depths until his seed slicked her thighs and pooled across the ruined sheets, only for her to demand more, her aether coiling around him to pull him back from the brink of rest.

By the time the moons dipped below the distant jagged peaks and the cold, gray light of dawn crept across the balcony flagstones, the bed was a scene of total, glorious ruin, and their bond was sealed in sweat, blood, and an unshakeable covenant written into the marrow of their bones.