Yen and Lily

Yen nuzzled into her hair, dragging in a breath like she was made of incense. His lips brushed her scalp, his exhale hot and slow, like she was the only thing that ever fucking calmed him down. One big hand slid down her back and flattened there, dragging her tight to his chest—right where she could feel it. His heartbeat. Loud, impatient. Like it wanted to be inside her.

Lily didn't move.

Not yet.

She knew this pattern by now. This coil in his muscles. That barely restrained hunger under his skin. That switch when his grip went from touch to claim. And her body? Her body knew its place. She tilted her head in silent surrender, lips parting.

The second her mouth opened, he was on her—

No warning. No tenderness.

Yen crushed their mouths together and devoured her.

It wasn't a kiss. It was consumption.

His tongue slammed into her mouth, slick and shameless, fucking her with it like it was his cock. His lips were wide open, hungry, groaning deep in his throat as he sucked at her tongue, licked into her teeth, drank her spit like it was wine. When she pulled back for air, he bit her lip—dragged it between his teeth and sucked until it popped free with a filthy sound.

He kissed her like he wanted to drink her soul.

Then—he swallowed. Hard.

Gulped her spit like he couldn't help it, like even that wasn't enough.

A groan rumbled in his chest. His hand dropped, hiking up her skirt with one fist until her thighs were bare and exposed. He grinded against her, hard cock bulging through his robes, pressing right against her cunt like a threat.

She gasped, fingers fumbling at his sash, trying to free him. But he shoved her hands away—growled something filthy—and ripped it loose himself. The silk fell to the floor like it knew it was about to witness sin.

"Lily—" he hissed, biting her again before pushing her back onto the bed.

He spread her open with one hand, dragged her thigh up over his hip. The other pushed her skirt higher until it bunched around her waist. His mouth stayed on hers, sticky and wet, chin slick from both their spit. Her moans broke between kisses—high, breathless, messy—especially when his hand slid between her thighs.

He palmed her cunt.

She was soaked.

He groaned, dragging his fingers along her pussy through the damp fabric of her panties. He could feel how wet she was—dripping. His thumb rolled over her clit, slow and cruel, then pressed hard.

She whimpered.

"Open your legs," he muttered, voice thick. "Let me feel what's mine."

She obeyed. Legs parting.

The cloth was peeled aside.

Cold air hit her soaked folds—and then his fingers shoved in.

Two at once. Thick. Unforgiving. Curling deep inside her like they owned the place. His thumb went straight back to her clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles that made her toes curl.

"Already this wet?" he murmured against her skin, lips brushing her neck before he bit down—hard.

She moaned, arching into his hand, her thighs twitching. His fingers pumped faster, the sound obscene—slick, squelching, loud in the quiet room. Her pussy clenched around his fingers, juice running down to his palm.

He grinned.

"Feel that? You're pulsing."

She gasped, head falling back. "Please…"

He pulled his fingers out.

Her body whined—literally whimpered—at the loss. But then she saw it: his cock.

Thick. Heavy. Veins bulging. The head flushed dark and already glistening with precum as he fisted it from base to tip, jaw tight.

"Turn around."

She rolled over, slow, dazed—face down into the pillows, arms curled under her. She barely had time to breathe before he grabbed her hips and dragged her ass up, lining his cock against her cunt.

Then he rammed in.

Hard.

"Ah—!" she choked, clawing the sheets.

He didn't wait. Didn't ease in. He fucked in. Buried to the hilt in one brutal thrust that made her back arch and her breath disappear. The wet sound of her pussy swallowing him echoed, loud and filthy.

"So tight," he growled, voice raw.

He pulled back and slammed in again.

Again.

Again.

Every thrust knocked her forward, but his grip on her hips yanked her back, forcing her to take every inch. Her cunt squelched around him, juices dripping down to her thighs. He grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, fucking her harder.

"My name," he murmured. "Say it."

"Y—Yen," she gasped.

"Do you love me?"

"Y-yes!"

"Hah." He let out a breathless laugh.

He slammed into her, relentless—balls slapping her soaked cunt, the slap of flesh on flesh bouncing off the walls. Her tits were crushed against the mattress, her clit rubbing with every thrust, every shift.

Her pussy clenched.

She could feel it building, the high-pitched, breathless edge of an orgasm clawing up her spine.

"Yen—Yen—I'm—!"

He slapped her ass, and that did it.

Her cunt spasmed—tight, milking him—her scream muffled into the sheets as she came hard. Her body buckled, twitching, slick gushing out as she sobbed into the pillow. But he didn't stop.

He kept thrusting.

Even through her orgasm. Even as she trembled. Even as her thighs went weak. He pounded into her like her cunt was the only place he wanted to live. His breath got ragged. His thrusts sloppy.

"Ugh—" He gripped her hips and shoved in deep, staying there, grinding.

His cock jerked.

And then she felt it.

Hot. Thick. Flooding her.

He emptied inside her with a low groan. Thick spurts painting her walls, mixing with her slick. He stayed there, cock buried, pressed tight to her body, both of them drenched in sweat and cum.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

They froze.

Knock.

"Jang." Yen growled, still inside her.

She couldn't even form words—her mouth open, drool on the pillow, pussy still twitching around his cock.

"What?!" he barked.

Jang's voice: "Lord Arkon and Zion have arrived. It was said the notice yesterday was sent late on purpose to surprise you, Patriarch."

Yen clicked his tongue.

Then? He pulled out—just like that.

Her body dropped to the mattress with a wet slap. Cum leaked out of her gaping pussy, running down her thigh. She didn't move. Couldn't. Her legs were trembling, her mouth open, face flushed, eyes barely open.

Yen stood.

Tied his sash.

Not a single look back.

"Prepare the formal hall."

"Yes, patriarch."

Footsteps.

Silence.

Lily stayed where he left her—wrecked, open, dripping. Her cunt still aching, still fluttering around nothing. Her breath came back in little gasps as she stared at the sheets, cum pooling beneath her thighs.

Used.

Claimed.

Left.