Tmkoc Sex Stories Chapter 482 - Not Be So Gentle on You
Chapter 482 - Not Be So Gentle on You
Her back arched off the cold console edge, spine curving like a bow drawn too hard, and the hundred screens caught her reflection in every angle — sweat-soaked, open-mouthed, her iron-colored eyes rolled half-back with tears cutting clean lines down her cheeks.
The Diamond Body cultivation surging through her veins turned every nerve ending into a live wire.
What should have been pain alone was something else entirely — something her mind didn’t have a file for yet, something that kept arriving in waves she couldn’t brace for no matter how many times she told herself to brace.
Pah! Pah! Pah!
"HNNGK~!! Aahngh~!! FUUUUCK—~~!!"
Her fist slammed the console surface beside her hip — not to stop him, her mind registered distantly, just to hit something, just to give her hand somewhere to put the current running through her.
The metal left a red mark across her knuckles.
She didn’t notice.
He watched her face.
Not her body — her face. The way the Mercenary Queen’s expression was losing its architecture piece by piece, pride dismantling under his hands in real time, the iron-colored eyes showing him something she’d never had reason to show a battlefield.
His hips didn’t slow.
Pah Pah PAH!
"Oungh~!! Ngh—ah—AHHH~!! HIEK~!!"
’That thick long thing again—’ her mind half-formed the thought between thrusts, ’—splitting me open from the inside, how is it still—why does it keep—’
The thought dissolved when he angled his hips and something inside her lit up like a signal fire.
Her remaining thigh shook violently against his palm.
The stump of her left leg swung at the bracket’s edge with every impact, the prosthetic dangling loose, and he held what she had like it was enough — like there was no version of her he was adjusting for, just the version currently screaming his name without quite saying his name.
"You—" She choked on the word mid-thrust. "You absolute—"
Pah!
"—BASTARD~~!!"
He smiled against the side of her neck.
Not a cruel smile. The warm, specific kind, the kind that had been on his face when he first walked through her arch — the kind that said ’I know exactly where I am and I like it here.’
"There she is," he said quietly, into her sweat-damp skin. "Didn’t go far."
Pah Pah Pah Pah!
"Hngh~!! Unghh~!! Mm—MMPHH~~!! AAAAHNGH~!!"
’His hand is still in my—’ the thought rose and fragmented as the grip in her pubic hair tightened again, roots pulling viciously at the mound already swollen and sensitive, and the dual sensation of being stretched open below and pulled taut above made her vision white at the corners.
Her mouth leaked.
Drool, thin and continuous, from the corner of her lip that she would have rather died than allow on any other occasion.
He felt her walls fluttering around him in irregular, desperate pulses — the Diamond Body cultivation making everything tighter, more responsive, the newly broken-through tier amplifying the reflex of her body trying and failing to adapt to him.
She was close again.
He slowed.
The deceleration hit her like a wall.
"No—" The word came out before her pride caught it. Raw. Immediate. Completely without armor. "No, don’t—you don’t—"
He pulled back to the tip and stopped.
She stared at the ceiling — at the amber screen-light flickering across the stone vault, at the shadows of the runic vessels, at nothing — breathing in short, broken pulls, her entire lower half clenching around nothing, around the blunt heat of his cockhead barely seated at her entrance, her body trying to pull him back in through sheer muscular demand.
"Say it properly," he said.
Low. Even. The same tone he’d used when he said ’there.’ The tone of a man explaining something obvious to someone who already knows the answer.
Her jaw tightened.
The iron came back — briefly, impressively — to her eyes.
"I will kill you," she said, with full sincerity, "when this cultivation settles."
"Mn." He sounded genuinely interested. "And before it settles?"
She lasted four seconds.
Her hand found the back of his neck — her fingers, still trembling finely, still bearing the red mark from the console — and she pulled him forward by force, hips rolling toward him with everything her remaining thigh could push.
"Move," she said, through her teeth. "Now."
He drove forward.
PAAAH!
"AAAAANGHH~~!!"
One thrust, deep, deliberate — seated completely, his thighs pressed flush to hers, his balls heavy and tight against the swell of her ass — and he held there, buried ballsdeep, letting her feel the full dimensions of him throbbing inside her while her scream bounced off every surface in the room.
Her nails found his shoulders.
Left marks.
’Full,’ her body reported with idiotic simplicity. ’Too full. He’s — that’s—’
The Diamond Body cultivation lit up every nerve along the stretch of her inner walls, cataloguing him in a language she didn’t have words for, the sensation of being completely filled thrumming through her newly advanced cultivation center like a second heartbeat.
’Why does it feel like— why is it—’
He released her pubic hair.
His palm pressed flat against her lower belly instead — just above where they were joined — and applied light, steady pressure, and the moan she produced was completely different from anything in the last hour.
Softer. Slower. A sound that came from somewhere deeper and less defended.
He began to move again.
Long. Measured. Each withdrawal dragging across every ridge of her inner walls until just the tip remained, then the slow, claiming push back in — not the battering pace from before, something else, something that forced her to feel each inch of him in sequence, in order, without the mercy of speed blurring it together.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
"Nhh~... haah~... ohh—’oh’—nnngh~..."
’This is worse,’ she thought dimly. ’This is so much worse than the fast—’
Because the fast she could brace for. The fast had urgency and impact and she could hold herself together against impact.
This made her feel like she was being taken apart by hand.
Her free hand pressed over her own mouth.
He reached up and moved it.
"Don’t," he said simply.
She looked at him.
The iron-colored eyes — undone, thoroughly, in a way no battlefield had managed — looking up at a man who had his cock buried inside her and his palm on her belly and the calm, unhurried attention of someone who had decided to stay here as long as he liked.
"I hate you," she said. Her voice was small. Present. Honest in a way she hadn’t planned.
"I know." His hips rolled forward and she gasped. "You’ll get used to it."
Pah Pah PAH!
"Mmph~!! Hngh~!! AAHNGH~~!!"
The pace built back without ceremony — his hand flat against her lower belly holding her in place while the other gripped the stump of her thigh and pulled her into each thrust, and the wet, obscene sound of him working through the combined slick of her and him and her first time filled the console room with a thoroughness that the hundred screens seemed to document from every angle.
Her breast swung with each impact, the swollen nipple catching the amber light, the soft flesh leaving a red mark against her arm when the force swung it that far.
’He said I was his sex slave.’
The thought arrived clearly, between thrusts, in the half-second gap where her mind could still form complete sentences.
’He said that. Out loud. In my room. To my face.’
Pah Pah Pah Pah!
"Oungh~!! Mm—MMPHHK~!! Ungh—aaah—HIEKK~~!!"
’And I—’ the thought continued, helplessly, ’—I told him to move.’
The Diamond Body cultivation pulsed through her in a wave that hit simultaneously from inside and out — his cock dragging across something that made her leg kick involuntarily — and the thought dissolved.
Her iron-colored eyes shut completely.
He felt her falling.
The walls clenching around him in the long, rolling rhythm that meant she was three thrusts from losing the rest of whatever she was still holding onto.
He leaned down and put his mouth against her ear.
"Come for me," he said. Not a demand. Something quieter than a demand. A statement of fact, delivered in advance.
Her entire body arched.
PAAAH! PAAAH!
"AAANGHH~~!! AAAH—AAH—’AAAHHHH~~!!’"
The orgasm hit her like a collapse — not the sharp, sudden kind from before, but a deep, rolling break, the Diamond Body cultivation amplifying every wave until it moved through her cultivation center and outward to her fingertips, her toes, the fine hair at the back of her neck.
Her hand, the one she’d been told not to press to her mouth, pressed to her mouth anyway.
He let her have it.
Staying buried deep through every pulse, his palm still steady on her belly, feeling the internal shudder of her from outside and inside simultaneously, watching her iron-colored eyes disappear behind closed lids and the fine, continuous tremor of a woman in the middle of something she hadn’t planned return to her body like an old resident.
’I can feel him throbbing,’ she registered, somewhere in the wreckage. ’He’s still — he hasn’t—’
Her eyes opened.
Barely.
Just enough to find his face above her.
He was looking at her the way he’d been looking at her since he walked through the east arch — with the warm, complete attention of a man who had decided she was interesting and had not yet been given cause to revise that assessment.
Her jaw was loose.
Her pride was somewhere on the floor beside the console.
She could not, currently, locate her bearings.
"..." She swallowed. Her voice, when it came, was low, stripped of its usual edge, the Mercenary Queen somewhere far behind the woman on the console right now. "How many times are you going to—"
"Until I’m done." He adjusted his grip on her thigh. "We’re not done."
She stared at him.
The hundred screens showed her every angle of the same expression — iron-colored eyes, wet-lashed, color risen high on pale cheeks, mouth still open from the last sound she’d made — looking up at the man who had walked into her room and done exactly what he’d said he was going to do.
She hadn’t believed him.
She was updating that.
His hips rolled forward once.
A single, deep, deliberate push — not a thrust, something more patient, a reminder of his presence in full — and she felt the air leave her body in a sound that was not a moan and not a word and not anything she had a catalogue entry for yet.
’What has he done to me,’ she thought.
’What is he still doing to me.’
His mouth pressed to her collarbone.
Warm. Unhurried. The comfortable attention of a man who had decided to stay.
"I will breed you until your legs grow up..."