He doesn’t move right away. He watches me. Waits.
“Okay?” he whispers.
I nod, wrapping my legs around him.
“Move.”
He does.
A slow pull back, a deeper thrust, stretching me in ways no one else ever could. Every inch is maddening. Every ridge drags against nerves I didn’t know I had. His cock feels like it was made for me—perfectly alien, perfectly right.
Kaz groans. “You’re so tight… fuck, Nova, you’re?—”
I arch into him, meeting his rhythm, pulling him deeper.
Our hips snap together in steady, sin-drenched cadence. The room vanishes. The war vanishes. The years between us, the rules, the regret—they vanish.
Only this remains.
His body in mine.
Mine around his.
Breath to breath.
Moan to moan.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, dig my nails into his back.
He growls.
Not a sound of dominance.
A sound of surrender.
“Don’t stop,” I beg.
“I couldn’t if I tried.”
He fucks me deeper, harder. His thrusts are precise but primal, like he’s trying to claim something he already owns.
And maybe he does.
My second orgasm slams into me harder than the first, and I break under him, sobbing his name against his neck.
He roars—low and guttural—as he comes, flooding me with heat.
His body locks, muscles trembling, every scale lit with faint blue light like he’s burning from the inside out.
He doesn’t collapse.
He cradles me.
Wraps his arms around me like I’m fragile, even though I just let him wreck me.
We breathe.
We exist.
