"An orgasm." She said the word carefully, like she was committing it to mory. "I thought I had lost control of my own body for a mont there. That rush... my legs."
Lancet smiled. "That’s an orgasm for you. Even if you don’t want to give in to the feeling, it will force you. Holding back will only worsen it."
Espel was panting slowly, her eyes gazing at her silver-plated ceiling. "I think I understand now why people seek this."
"You do?"
"There’s this thrill," she went on, eyes still on the ceiling. "I’ve never felt anything like it. Can every man make a woman experience this orgasm?"
Lancet’s cheeks turned red with pride. "Heh. Not really. I like to believe I’m one of the lucky few."
She slowly turned her head to look at him. "I think... I liked it."
Lancet looked at her, a warm expression on his face. "Well that’s good. Because there’s more."
Her eyes, still glassy, focused on him. "More?"
He got up and looked at her with a gentle but commanding gaze. "Take off my shirt," he said softly, gesturing to his shirt.
Espel sat up. "What?"
"My shirt. Help take it off."
"But why?" Her brows creased just a little. "Aren’t you capable of doing it yourself?"
"I helped you take off yours, didn’t I?" Lancet said. Espel’s eyes quivered a bit, and her cheeks got red.
"It’s a bonding process. Partners help each other take off their clothes. It makes the sex... steamier."
She looked up at him, her cyan eyes glistening with curiosity. "Do I want the sex to be steamier?"
Lancet smiled, then leaned over, like he was about to kiss her which got the beautiful Healer Mage excited. "Trust ," he whispered. "You want the sex to be steamier."
Then he stood straight again.
Espel gave him a final look then slowly lifted her hands from the cushion of the bed. They trembled slightly as she reached forward, her fingers nervous and hesitant at first.
She fumbled with the buttons of his uniform one by one, her breath shallow, cheeks flushed with a mix of curiosity and anxiety. Each button ca undone slowly under her careful touch until his shirt fell open.
Espel froze a little, taking in the sight of his chest and his abs. They were so sculpted, defined at every corner and glistening from her room’s light.
She gulped a little then moved lower, pulling his pants down with shaky hands. As the fabric slid away, his large cock sprang free.
Espel’s eyes widened. From her view it looked thick and heavy, veins prominent along its impressive length, the flushed head smooth and already glistening slightly at the tip. It twitched under her wide-eyed stare, far bigger than she had imagined.
"It’s..." She seed to be searching for the right word. "Large."
Lancet scratched the back of his neck. "Thanks, I guess."
Espel was still staring. "How is that going to fit inside ?"
"We’ll be slow and careful." Lancet gently took Espel’s hand and guided her back down onto the bed, his movents careful yet firm. He positioned her lying flat on her back in the center of the cushions, her dark hair fanning out beneath her as he adjusted her hips and parted her legs with his hands.
He then moved between her spread thighs, kneeling close as he positioned himself above her. His large cock rested heavy against her inner thigh, the flushed head brushing lightly against her wet entrance while he supported his weight on his arms, eyes locked on hers.
"Tell if it hurts."
Espel got a bit red. "It will hurt. I know that much."
"It might. But I’ll make it good after."
She nodded once, sharply, and set her jaw. "Do it."
Lancet guided himself to her entrance and pushed in. It was only the tip first, just enough to stretch her open. Espel’s breath hissed through her teeth, her hands gripping his shoulders.
"Breathe," he reminded her.
She took a shaky breath, and after she assured him that it was okay, he pushed deeper.
Her inner walls gripped him like a fist, hot and tight and impossibly soft. He had to pause, had to close his eyes and focus on not coming right there.
"You’re very warm," Espel said, her voice strained but still analytical.
"You’re very tight."
"Is that a good thing? I’m not rejecting your penis, am I?"
Lancet chuckled. "Don’t call it penis."
She frowned. "But that’s what it is..." She let out a breath. "What else should I call it?"
"A cock," Lancet said.
Instantly, he pushed further, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Ughhhh!"
Lancet was halfway in now.
Her pussy was so wet, so squishy, so tight. It wrapped around him like a coiling tongue, squeezing the veins of his cock.
Despite the extrely entrapping feeling, despite wanting to push in and fuck her brains out, Lancet waited.
He let her adjust to his size, watching her face cycle through a dozen micro-expressions — pain, surprise, confusion, and beneath it all, a flicker of sothing that might have been wonder.
"I can feel your cock," she whispered. "Inside . I can feel all of your large cock."
"That’s because you’re very aware of your body."
"No, it’s different. I can feel... you. Your pulse. Your heat. It’s like you’re inside my consciousness."
Lancet stilled. That wasn’t normal. But then again, nothing about Espel was normal.
"I’m going in now." He pushed the rest of the way in.
Espel arched beneath him, a long, low moan escaping her lips. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her body trembling around him.
"Okay?" he asked.
"I don’t know yet. Give a mont."
He stayed still, buried inside her, his forehead resting against hers. Her breathing slowly steadied, and her grip on his shoulders loosened.
"It doesn’t hurt anymore," she said.
Lancet raised his head and kissed her. She seed to really like that as she grabbed his face and kissed him harder. "Good," he told her. "I’m going to move now."
"Okay."
He pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, and Espel’s breath caught. He set a rhythm — slow, deep, deliberate — watching her face for any sign of discomfort. But what he saw instead was her lips parting, her eyes growing heavy-lidded, her hips beginning to et his thrusts.
"This is..." she started.
"Good?"
"Different from before. The orgasm. This is building differently."
"Penetration orgasms feel different from clitoral ones."
"Different how?"
"Deeper. Fuller. It takes longer to build but it hits harder."
"I want it."
Lancet increased his pace, and she moaned — a real, unguarded sound that she seed almost surprised to hear coming from her own throat. He hooked his arm under her knee and pushed it up toward her chest, changing the angle, and she cried out.
"There," she gasped. "There. Whatever you just did—"
"This angle?"
"Yes, fuck! Yes—"
The curse startled them both. Espel’s eyes flew open, and for a mont she looked almost embarrassed. Then Lancet thrust again, hitting that sa spot, and her head fell back and she didn’t care anymore.
"More," she demanded. "Harder."
He gave her more. He gave her harder. He fucked her with building intensity, her body accepting him fully now, her hips rising to et his, her hands clawing at his back.
And then sothing changed.
Espel’s eyes flew open, and they were no longer just cyan.
They were glowing.
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