You pushed me back onto the white sofa, the leather cool against my heated skin, contrasting sharply with the fire burning in my veins. You stood over me, a giant in this world of nothingness, your erection standing proud and demanding between us.
"First position," you stated, your voice devoid of the playful teasing now, replaced by a focused, intense hunger. "Missionary. Classic. Intimate. I want to see your eyes, Iya. I want you to see exactly who is inside you."
You lowered yourself between my spread legs. I wrapped them around your waist instantly, my heels digging into the small of your back, urging you closer. I reached down, guiding you, my fingers brushing against the velvet-steel of your tip.
"Ragia..." I breathed, the anticipation making my voice shake. "Now. Please."
You didn't thrust. You pressed forward slowly, inch by agonizing inch. Your head breached my entrance, stretching me, filling me with a fullness that no toy could ever replicate. It was a biological lock and key, a perfect fit that made my soul sigh with relief.
"Look at me," you commanded, pausing when you were halfway in.
I opened my eyes, locking gaze with your golden ones.
"I am real," you whispered. "This is real. Arala was a shadow. I am the light."
You drove the rest of the way in.
"Oh… God!" I cried out, arching my back, my hands clutching your shoulders.
You filled every corner of me. You hit the deepest part of my womb, that place that usually only aches with emptiness. You started to move. Slow, deliberate strokes that ground against my sensitive walls. You leaned down, kissing my forehead, my nose, my lips, while your hips worked a steady, relentless rhythm.
"Say it," you growled against my mouth. "Say who owns you."
"You do," I sobbed, matching your thrusts. "Ragia Quarso. My Captain. My King. You own me."
"That's right," you grunted, picking up the pace.
The friction was incredible. Being filled by you, feeling your weight on top of me, feeling your heart beating against mine... it was too much. The pleasure built rapidly, a tidal wave of sensation.
"I'm coming!" I screamed, my nails digging into your back. "Ragia! I'm coming!"
You didn't stop. You pounded into me, harder, deeper.
"Let it go, Iya!"
I shattered. My inner muscles clamped around you, milking you. And for the third time, I squirted. The fluid washed over your groin, mixing with our sweat, lubricating the connection until we were sliding against each other in a chaotic, wet mess.
"Three," you panted against my neck.
You didn't let me rest. You pulled out, the loss of you making me whimper, but you immediately grabbed my hips and flipped me over.
"On your knees," you ordered. "I want to see you take it. I want to see you submit."
I scrambled onto my hands and knees on the sofa, burying my face in the cushions. I arched my back, presenting myself to you. You didn't hesitate. You grabbed my hips, your fingers bruising my skin, and you drove back into me from behind.
"Ah!" I screamed into the cushion.
This angle was deeper. More animalistic. You slapped my ass, the sound sharp and shocking in the silence.
"You like that?" you growled, thrusting with a violence that shook my entire body. "You like being my bitch, Vice Captain?"
"Yes!" I moaned, pushing back against you. "Use me! Break me!"
You reached around, your hand finding my clit again. You rubbed it hard while you hammered into me from behind. The dual stimulation was blinding. I was nothing but sensation, a vessel for your pleasure and mine.
"You belong to me," you hissed, biting my shoulder. "Every drop. Every moan."
My body seized again. The pleasure was agonizing, bordering on pain.
"Ragia! Yes! Yes!"
I convulsed. My hips bucked wildly, and I felt the release hit me like a physical blow. I squirted again, the fourth time, soaking the white leather beneath me, creating a puddle of evidence of my surrender.
"Four," you counted again.
You pulled me up, spinning me around. You sat on the edge of the sofa and pulled me onto your lap, facing away from you.
"Ride me," you commanded. "I want to see your back. I want to see you work for it."
I sank down onto you, taking you all the way to the hilt. I leaned back, resting my back against your chest, my head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around me, your hands cupping my breasts, your thumbs teasing my nipples.
I started to grind. I moved my hips in a circle, churning on top of you. I could feel you throbbing inside me, twitching with every movement.
"That's it," you whispered in my ear. "Grind on it. Feel it deep."
You helped me, your hips bucking up to meet my downward thrusts. Your hands left my breasts and moved down to my clit, rubbing it through the slick wetness that covered us both.
"You're so wet," you groaned. "So loose for me now."
"Because of you," I panted, throwing my head back against your shoulder. "Only you."
The intimacy of this position, combined with the raw lust, sent me over the edge again. I couldn't stop. I ground down hard, screaming your name as the fifth orgasm ripped through me.
I squirted, the fluid shooting forward, coating your thighs and the floor in front of us.
"Five," you growled, biting my neck.
You stood up, lifting me with you, keeping us connected. You walked us to the center of the white room, away from the furniture. You laid me down on the invisible floor, which felt cool and solid.
"Legs up," you ordered. "I want to be as deep as possible. I want to touch your soul, Iya."
I lifted my legs, wrapping them around your neck. You grabbed my thighs, pushing them down toward my chest, exposing me completely. You hovered over me, looking like a titan.
"This is it," you said, your eyes burning. "This is where I rewrite the ending."
You plunged into me.
It was the deepest penetration yet. It felt like you were rearranging my insides. I couldn't breathe. I could only gasp as you pounded into me with a rhythmic, devastating power.
"Ragia..." I choked out. "It's too deep! It's too much!"
"Take it!" you roared. "Take all of it!"
You were relentless. You were fast. You were the Inquor reclaiming his Melito. Every thrust was a claim. Every thrust was a promise.
"I'm close!" I wailed, my vision going white to match the room. "Ragia! I'm going to die!"
"Die with me then!" you shouted. "Come with me!"
I exploded. It was the biggest one yet. My body arched off the floor, suspended only by your cock inside me. I screamed, a long, broken sound of pure ecstasy. I squirted for the sixth time, a fountain of release that washed over your stomach and chest.
"Six!" you yelled.
And then, you let go.
"Iya! Fuck! Iya!"
You slammed into me one final time, burying yourself to the root. I felt you stiffen. I felt you pulse. And then, the flood. You poured yourself into me, hot, thick, and endless. It filled my womb, overflowing, coating my insides with your life.
We stayed like that for a long time, you panting above me, me trembling beneath you. Slowly, your breathing slowed. You kissed my forehead, then my lips.
You pulled out.
The sensation of emptiness was sudden and sharp. My body, so used to being filled by you, reacted instantly. My muscles spasmed in a final, aftershock protest.
"Ah!" I gasped.
And…
I squirted one last time. A final, weak jet of fluid that mingled with your seed leaking out of me, creating a pool of white and clear on the pristine floor.
"Seven," you whispered, collapsing next to me. "New record."
We lay there in the white void, tangled in each other's limbs, covered in sweat and sex. The silence of the room was no longer oppressive. It was peaceful.
It was satisfied.
"We made a mess," I whispered, tracing the line of your jaw with my finger.
"Art is messy," you chuckled, catching my hand and kissing the palm.
You sat up, groaning slightly, and reached for the book and the pen you had discarded earlier. You looked at the blank pages again. The mischievous glint was back in your eyes, brighter than before.
"You know," you said, tapping the pen against your chin. "While we were... busy... I had another idea."
"Oh no," I groaned, sitting up and pulling my torn uniform over my chest. "What now? Are you going to introduce dragons?"
"Better," you grinned. "I'm thinking about the audience. About the people reading this."
You pointed the pen at the invisible wall.
"They liked the smut," you said. "They liked the chaos. But if we want a sequel... if we want to keep this universe alive... we need to expand. We need to go bigger."
"Bigger?" I raised an eyebrow. "After what we just did? How much bigger can you get?"
"Not bigger in that way," you laughed. "I mean the rating. I mean the reach."
You leaned in close, winking at me conspiratorially.
"PG-13," you whispered.
I stared at you. "PG-13?"
"Think about it, Iya," you said, your eyes shining with the brilliance of a madman. "We tone down the explicit stuff. We ramp up the emotional drama. We focus on the 'will-they-won't-they' even though we obviously will. We make it accessible. We get a movie deal!"
"You are insane," I said, shaking my head. "You are utterly, hopelessly insane."
"But?" you pressed.
I looked at you. I looked at the man who had died, come back, shot God, and then loved me seven times in a white void just to prove a point. I looked at the Captain who would burn down reality just to keep his crew safe.
I smiled.
It was a soft smile. A smile of total, absolute devotion.
"But," I whispered, leaning my head on your shoulder. "I don't know what you think, but I believe in you, my Captain."
You grinned, clicking the pen.
"Then let's write the sequel," you said.
You touched the pen to the paper.
"The Chaotic Fanfare Revised," you wrote.
And then, the white room began to fade.