Chapter 276: Pervert Encyclopedia: Volume One

"Fuck," I mutter, and it comes out more honest than smooth. "You feel incredible."

She just moans in response, hips already starting to rock back to meet me, and I set a slow rhythm, deep and deliberate, my tail coiling around her thigh to hold her steady.

Cherry’s watching every second of it, restrained but not silent, whimpering and squirming against the smoke tendrils holding her wrists, her tail thrashing weakly against the sheets in frustration.

"You’re doing so good, waiting your turn," I tell her, glancing over while I keep moving inside Lyra. "Such a good girl."

Her whole body shudders at the praise, back arching, and a fresh wave of that sweet sulphur scent rolls off her skin, thick enough that I can taste it on my tongue when I flick it out toward her.

"Please," she whines, voice cracking. "Master, please, I need—"

"I know what you need," I tell her, and I mean it. My second cock slides free, extending out from the same slit, already slick and blood-dark, and I guide it toward her with a length of smoke wrapped gently around the base, easing it toward her entrance.

She’s soaked already, more than soaked, and the second the tip presses against her, I feel her whole body jolt like she’s been electrocuted.

"Oh god," she gasps.

"Not quite," I say, smug, sliding in slowly, feeling her stretch and clench around me immediately. "Just me."

Wrong hole, but not by much.

I pull back out, slow, just to hear her whine about it, then line up again, this time lower, and press against the tight ring of muscle instead.

Lyra goes still under me for half a second, like her whole body is trying to figure out what just happened, and I feel her breath catch through the bond, that little spike of surprise mixing with something hungrier underneath it.

"Matt-" she starts, and I can already hear it isn’t a no, more like a warning that she doesn’t trust her own voice right now.

"You’re fine," I tell her, low and even, keeping my hips still so she’s got a second to just feel it, feel me pressed right there without pushing yet. "Say stop, and I stop. That’s it."

She doesn’t say stop.

Her hips push back instead, just a little, just enough to answer the question before I even finish asking it, and something in my chest goes hot and stupid and proud all at once.

"Fuck, good girl," I mutter, and then I push.

It’s slow at first because I’m not a complete animal, easing in with the help of how slick I already am from her pussy, but her body clamps down tight around the head of me and she makes a sound that’s half whimper, half moan, and I feel her fingers dig into the sheets like she’s holding on for dear life.

"Breathe," I tell her, my other cock still buried deep in her pussy, both of us just adjusting to how full she suddenly is. "You’re doing so good."

"Master," she gasps, and it comes out wrecked, stumbling over the word like always, but there’s no hesitation behind it now, just need.

I give her a few seconds, just rocking my coils in small little movements, letting her body open up around both of me, and the second I feel her relax, feel that clench turn into something closer to a pull, I stop being gentle.

I pull back and slam forward, both cocks moving together, one in her pussy and one in her ass, and the sound she makes isn’t a moan anymore; it’s a scream, sharp and raw, and her whole body arches off the bed like she’s been struck by lightning.

"There she is," I hiss, and I don’t slow down.

I set a rhythm that’s rough and deep, no more deliberate teasing, just taking her the way every animal instinct in me is screaming to, my tail tightening around her thigh to keep her pinned in place while I drive into her again and again, her ass gripping me tight with every thrust while her pussy squeezes down on the other cock like she’s trying to milk me dry.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she chants, eyes rolling back, hips trying to meet every thrust even though she’s got nowhere to go with me holding her down.

The smoke curling off my scales gets thicker, drifting across the room in lazy trails, and somewhere in the haze I can hear Cherry losing her mind on the other side of the bed.

She’s not restrained enough to stay quiet, whimpering and moaning with every single thrust like she’s feeling it secondhand, her wings twitching, her tail thrashing against the sheets, her whole body straining against the smoke holding her wrists like she physically cannot help herself.

"Please," she begs, voice cracked to pieces, "please, I need to touch, I need—"

"Not yet," I tell her, glancing over just long enough to see her fully, dripping and desperate and watching every single second like she’s trying to burn the image into her brain. "You’re gonna watch a little longer."

She lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sob and a moan, thighs pressing together like she’s trying to get some kind of relief and finding none, and the sulphur scent rolling off her is so thick now I can taste it sitting on the back of my tongue every time I breathe.

Lyra’s not thinking about anyone but me at this point, both hands fisting the sheets, back bowed, taking every thrust like her body was built for exactly this, and the sounds coming out of her are filthy and unfiltered, no performance in it, just raw noise clawing its way out of her throat.

"You’re so tight," I tell her, punctuating it with a hard snap of my hips that makes her whole body jolt forward.

"Matt," she gasps, "Matt, I’m—"

"I know," I hiss, because I can feel it too, feel the way her whole body is coiling tighter and tighter around both cocks, feel the bond thrumming with something close to overload. "Let go. I’ve got you."