Milo was no longer a person; he was a conduit for pure sensation, a trembling vessel caught in a storm of exquisite agony and blinding pleasure. The inferno of the previous moments had exploded into an uncontainable conflagration. Elias, still a heavy, burning presence behind him, had somehow become even more potent, more primal.
The relentless, rhythmic rub of Elias's leg against Milo's throbbing erection had intensified, becoming a hard, insistent thrusting motion that left no room for thought, only raw, visceral response. Milo's body convulsed, a desperate, silent plea for release that was both torment and salvation. Every deep press of Elias's thigh sent a jolt of white-hot lightning through him, making his vision swim.
And then, both of Elias's hands began to work their magic. The one already in his pants, now deeper, fingers finally finding their mark. They curled around Milo's erection, a surprisingly firm, possessive grip. The touch was impossibly hot, impossibly direct, sending a jolt that ripped a muffled cry from Milo's throat. The other hand, still resting loosely around Milo's waist, moved down, tracing the line of his lower back, before cupping his exposed buttock and pressing him even tighter, more intimately, against Elias's hard body.
Milo's whimpers, now ragged and desperate, turned into choked gasps and guttural moans. He couldn't hold them back. They were tearing from him, raw sounds of a body pushed beyond its limits. And with each sound, Elias, still lost in the depths of sleep, responded. A low growl vibrated in Elias's chest, a deep, satisfied rumble. His leg thrust harder, faster, the unconscious friction driving Milo closer and closer to the edge. Elias's hands tightened, fingers working with a devastating rhythm that was utterly instinctive, completely devastating.
The world outside Milo's bedroom in Westkilo, Calin City, ceased to exist. There was only the heat, the overwhelming friction, the primal scent of Elias, and the desperate, humiliating sounds tearing from his own throat. He was pressed, exposed, against a sleeping god with horns and a tail, being used as an unconscious instrument of pleasure. Shame warred with a pleasure so intense it was agonizing.
Just as Milo felt himself on the very precipice, about to shatter, a sudden, almost violent shift. Elias, still asleep, suddenly straightened his body, his legs unlacing from Milo's in a quick, powerful movement. There was a faint rustle of fabric, a whisper of air, and then a profound, almost dizzying absence of pressure.
For a split second, Milo felt a rush of cold air against his skin, a sudden void where the heat had been. He sucked in a ragged breath, the first truly deep one he'd managed in what felt like an eternity. He was exposed, raw, trembling, body still on fire, but the immediate, suffocating intimacy was gone.
And then, with a deep, shuddering sigh, Elias shifted again. Not back into a spoon, but he rolled onto his back, his body still radiating heat. The reason for the sudden change became terrifyingly clear. Elias, in his unconscious movements, had fully exposed himself.
Milo, eyes wide and bloodshot in the dim light, saw it. Elias's powerful physique, hinted at by his defined abs, was now laid bare. And there, revealed in stark, undeniable glory, was the full, impressive, very aroused length of Elias's own erection, rising from the junction of his powerful thighs. It was thick, veined, and undeniably hard, a testament to the powerful, unconscious stirrings within the half-dragon.
Milo gasped, a fresh wave of heat flooding his entire body. He had been so utterly consumed by his own impending climax that he hadn't fully considered the source of Elias's powerful, rhythmic actions. Elias, even in sleep, was clearly as aroused as Milo was.
That split second of breathing room, of stunned observation, was all Milo got. The sight of Elias's full, undeniable arousal, the raw, primal display, sent Milo tumbling over the edge. With a final, desperate moan that was swallowed by the sudden silence, Milo convulsed, body arching, and came violently, silently, into his pajamas, the climax ripping through him, leaving him trembling and utterly spent.
He lay there, panting, utterly wrecked. His eyes were still wide, fixed on the terrifying, beautiful sight of Elias, still asleep, still perfectly oblivious, his own hardened member now visibly pulsing in the dim light. The inferno had consumed Milo, leaving him a smoldering, confused, and utterly shocked mess. This was a nightmare. And he was already looking forward to the next one.