Chapter 41 — First Volume, Epilogue 3 — A Night That Will Be Made to Remember, 3 (R18)
The moon had crested high in the velvet sky long ago, its cool silver light spilling unchecked through the tall, arched windows of the Noctis chambers like a silent witness. It draped everything in a pale, ethereal sheen—the rumpled sheets twisted like battle flags, the sweat-glistened curves of two bodies locked in a frantic dance. The autumn wind tugged at the heavy curtains, billowing them in lazy waves as if trying to shield the room from prying eyes, but each gust only peeled back the veil, exposing more of the raw, forbidden rhythm unfolding within: skin slapping against skin in a wet, urgent beat that echoed off the stone walls.
"Ahhhhhhhnnnn! S-Sylan… ahhh, it's too much, too deep… ahhhhhnnnn!" Virelle's cry ripped through the hushed air, her voice cracking like thin ice under strain, her body seizing around him in waves of overwhelming sensation. Her back bowed sharp off the mattress, full breasts pressing flush against his chest, beads of sweat tracing lazy paths down the flushed valley between them as he drove into her again and again, relentless as a summer storm.
Her warmth clutched him like a desperate embrace, slick and soaked from her own rising tide, every plunge pulling obscene, squelching sounds from the join of their bodies—sounds that would have shamed her in daylight but only fueled the fire now. Sylan's golden hair clung to his forehead in damp spikes, his crimson eyes half-lidded and wild with a mix of raw hunger and something deeper, more broken: a soldier's ache for solace, pouring out in every thrust. His teeth ground together, jaw tight as he buried himself to the root, the thick length of him stretching her to her limits, filling every inch until she moaned and sobbed in the same breath.
"Nnnnhhh—ahhhhnnn, you're squeezing me so hard, Virelle…" he groaned, the words scraping out rough and low, like gravel under boots. His hips snapped forward once more, seating him deep, the sheer girth of him claiming her completely, turning her gasps into fractured pleas.
Her nails carved red paths down his back, faint welts blooming in their wake, but her body sang a different song—hips jerking up to meet him, greedy despite the overwhelm. "Ahhh—ahhhh, gods, I can't… I can't take anymore…!" she sobbed, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, yet her legs hooked tighter around his waist, ankles crossing like a lock, pulling him impossibly deeper into her heat.
Their pace fractured into something wilder, more frantic—the headboard tapping a stuttering rhythm against the wall, the sheets growing damp and heavy beneath them, their breaths mingling in hot, ragged bursts laced with moans that built like thunder. She shattered the quiet with a scream when his hand claimed her breast, squeezing the soft mound with firm possession, his mouth descending to bite—not hard enough to bruise the bone, but enough to mark—leaving dark, blooming hickeys across the pale canvas of her chest and throat like signatures of the night.
"Mine," he growled against the dip of her collarbone, voice muffled as he sucked another claim into her skin, the pull of his lips sending fresh shivers racing down her spine. "All of you, mine tonight."
Her response dissolved into another shattered moan, "Mmmhhhhhnnn, yes, yes… all yours, Sylan!" Her body seized then, inner walls clamping down in violent spasms as the crest of her release crashed over her like a wave breaking on rocks. Her cry pierced the chamber, high and raw, beautiful in its abandon—"Ahhhhhhh—SYLANNNN!"
The rush of her climax flooded him, hot and slick, coating his length and trickling down to soak his thighs, her frame quaking beneath him like aftershocks from a quake. That vise-like grip undid him in turn, dragging him under with her. He slammed home one final time, burying to the hilt, his cock pulsing wild inside her as a guttural roar tore from his throat—"Nnnnnghhhhh—Virelle!"—and he spilled into her, thick ropes of warmth flooding her depths, filling her until it seeped back out around him, messy and unashamed, dripping between her trembling thighs.
For what felt like an eternity, the room held only the sound of their labored breaths, harsh and uneven, and the faint, settling creak of the bed frame under their spent weight. Sylan slumped over her, chest heaving against hers, his golden hair damp and tangled where it brushed her neck, his length still twitching faintly within her clenching warmth.
Virelle lay boneless beneath him, her brown eyes glazed over in a haze of afterglow, lips parted on shallow pants as she whispered, "Y-you came so much… I feel so full…" Her belly pressed warm and heavy against his, a strange, intimate weight from his seed settling deep, her limbs loose and trembling from the force of what had just torn through her.
But just as she thought he'd soften, that the storm might finally ebb into rest, his cock jerked hard inside her—still swollen, still rigid, a insistent throb that made her gasp. Her eyes snapped wide, disbelief chasing the bliss from her face. "S-Sylan… you're still hard?!"
He let out a low, pained groan, hips shifting to grind deeper into her already tender core, the friction sparking fresh sparks along her nerves. "I can't stop… I still need you…" His crimson eyes met hers, heavy-lidded but fever-bright, lips grazing hers in a ghost of a kiss as he breathed, "Until morning."
Her mouth dropped open, a stuttered protest bubbling up—"But I—ahh!"—only to shatter into a fresh scream as he drew back and thrust in again, the wet smack of their bodies ringing through the chamber like a challenge.
"Ahhhhhhhh—ahhh gods, it's too much, you're—ahhhhnnnn, you're splitting me again!" Her cries twisted into sobbing moans as he set to her harder, faster, his endurance like iron forged in endless wars—unbending, unbreaking, pounding into her soaked heat without mercy or pause.
Time lost all shape in the haze of their fervor, hours slipping away like sand through fingers. He took her in every way the night allowed—rolling her gently onto her stomach, her cheek pressed to the pillow as he entered her from behind, hands gripping her hips to pull her back onto him with each deep slide. Then he lifted her legs over his shoulders, folding her beneath him, the angle letting him plunge even deeper, drawing whimpers that bordered on prayers. Later, he pulled her into his lap, guiding her to straddle him even as her thighs quivered too weak to hold, his hands steadying her waist while she rocked against him, slow at first, then desperate, her nails scoring his chest in retaliation for the ache he built.
Her voice grew rough from the endless litany of moans and screams, her body a map of their hunger—dark hickeys trailing like constellations down her neck, across the swell of her breasts, even along the sensitive insides of her thighs where his mouth had wandered in quieter moments, claiming every inch with teeth and tongue.
"Ahhhhnnnn, nnnhhh, Sylan, I can't anymore, I'm—ahhh, I'm going to break!" she gasped, fingers twisting in the sheets as his cock continued its merciless rhythm, stretching and filling her until the line between pleasure and pain blurred to nothing. But for every plea she gasped out, her body rebelled—another peak ripping through her without warning, walls fluttering and milking him tight, her cries peaking in his name shouted to the uncaring stars.
He never flagged, never eased. Each time he tumbled over the edge, groaning her name like a battle cry as he flooded her anew—hot, thick pulses painting her insides—he'd capture her lips in a searing kiss, murmuring "Again" against her mouth before shifting, repositioning, starting the cycle with that same unyielding hardness.
By the time the first hints of dawn crept over the horizon, turning the sky a soft wash of gold through the windows, the chamber hung heavy with the musk of sweat and spent passion. The sheets lay in sodden ruins, twisted and stained, their bodies a canvas of bites and scratches, slick with the evidence of their endless night. Virelle sprawled boneless beneath him, her black hair a wild tangle across the pillows, chest rising and falling in shallow hitches, her voice reduced to a hoarse rasp from hours of begging and bliss. Her skin bore the marks of his fervor—dozens of purpled hickeys blooming like forbidden flowers across her throat, her breasts swollen and tender to the touch, her thighs shaking uncontrollably from the strain of holding him, riding him, yielding to him over and over.
She turned her head weakly toward him, brown eyes foggy with bone-deep weariness, lips quivering as she managed a faint whisper, "Sylan… gods above, how can you… still have this much stamina? I… I can't anymore… I want to sleep…"
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her sweat-damp forehead, his length still firm and buried within her, those crimson eyes drooping with fatigue but alight with a quiet, possessive glow. "Then sleep, Virelle… I'll hold you until you wake."
She let out a faint moan, caught somewhere between objection and relief, before her body finally surrendered, going slack and heavy in the circle of his arms. Sleep dragged her under at last, but not before one hazy realization flickered through her exhausted mind—her young master's hunger ran deeper than any well she'd known, and she'd only just weathered the first night of what might become many.