Chapter 56 — Three Days of Heat, 3 (R18+)
Warning: This chapter contains explicit adult content. If you're 17 or younger, please skip ahead.
The hearth's fire had faded to a nest of smoldering embers, their dull red glow throwing long, wavering shadows across the bedchamber like fingers reaching from the dark. Virelle Thren lay curled on her side amid the tangled sheets, her dark hair spilling wild across the pillow like spilled ink, lips parted soft on deep, even breaths that spoke of exhausted sleep. The remnants of her maid's dress lay scattered on the floor like battlefield flags—lace shredded at the edges, corset unlaced and crumpled, the short skirt twisted in a heap—a quiet story of the night's fierce claims. Sylan Kyle Von Noctis sprawled beside her, propped on one elbow, his crimson eyes tracing the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the way her bare skin caught the faint light, glowing warm and smooth, every curve a memory etched fresh: the arch of her back when she'd taken him deep, the whimper of his name on her tongue, the desperate clench of her body around him like she'd never let go.
He should've let her rest. The hour crept toward dawn, and three days stretched ahead—time enough for plans, for the Blood Moon's shadow looming. But the ache in him burned steady, unquenched, a low fire that his old life as Jin Soowhi had banked but never doused—fantasies buried under betrayal, a lover who'd twisted his wants into shame, leaving him hollow and hungry.
Virelle was different. She trusted him with her edges, gave freely what others withheld. And right now, in the hush of the room, she was his—utterly, without walls.
Sylan's calloused fingers itched; he reached out slow, brushing her shoulder feather-light, feeling the silk of her skin warm under his touch. "Virelle," he murmured, voice low and gravel-rough, barely stirring the air. She didn't twitch. He trailed his hand down her arm, tracing the soft inner curve, testing—light as a breath, watching for the flutter of lashes. "Wake up, love." His fingers ghosted the dip of her waist, dipping lower to skim the swell of her hip, the smooth plane of her thigh. Still, she slumbered deep, breaths steady, body lax and inviting in the embers' glow.
A smirk tugged his lips—dark, thrilled, the forbidden edge sharpening the want.
He'd always wondered about this—the rush of claiming someone in the quiet of sleep, the raw trust of it, the power laced with care. His past had starved him of it, that unfaithful shadow turning desire to dirt, but Virelle... she was his safe harbor, his willing flame. She belonged here, in his hands, his bed—trusting even in dreams.
Sylan leaned in closer, his breath fanning hot against her ear, stirring a stray lock of hair. "Virelle," he whispered, voice a velvet growl, dark and coaxing. His hand slipped under the sheet, fingers mapping the smooth expanse of her thigh, inching higher with deliberate tease—brushing the soft, sensitive skin where leg met heat. She was still slick from before, warm and yielding, her body responding on instinct—a faint murmur escaping her lips, hips shifting lazy, but her eyes stayed sealed, breaths deepening to sleep's rhythm. His cock throbbed heavy between his legs, fully hard now, straining for her—the thick length pulsing with the need to bury deep, to feel her clench around him unaware at first, then waking to the fire.
"Come on, love," he coaxed, fingers dipping to trace her entrance—light circles around the damp folds, pressing just enough to part them, feeling her body soften, a quiet sigh slipping free. "I need you. Wake for me." She was so responsive, even adrift—hips tilting faint into his touch, a soft whimper breathing out, but slumber held her fast, lashes fanned still on her cheeks.
His breath hitched, pulse thundering low and fierce. So trusting, so open—his to take, to cherish in this stolen hush.
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder—soft, lingering—then the nape of her neck, lips brushing the fine hairs there, tasting salt and warmth. "Last warning," he murmured, voice dropping to a rumble that vibrated against her skin, his free hand gripping her hip gentle to tilt her just so. "Wake up... or I'm claiming what's mine."
She didn't stir—only a faint, incoherent mumble, body arching subtle like a dream's pull.
Sylan couldn't hold back.
He shifted behind her seamless, arm snaking under to haul her flush to his chest—her back molding to his front, soft curves fitting his hard lines like poured for him. His cock nudged her ass insistent, thick and hot, the tip tracing her cleft before settling at her entrance—pressing slow, teasing the give. Virelle let out a quiet mewl, body curving back unconscious, but sleep clung stubborn, her breaths hitching soft. "Such a good girl," he whispered, voice rough with the dark thrill, nuzzling her neck as he pushed in—smooth, deep thrust burying him to the hilt in one claiming glide, her walls yielding wet and welcoming, fluttering around his girth like a sigh.
Virelle gasped faint, body tensing a heartbeat—inner muscles clenching instinctive around the sudden fullness—before melting lax again, a soft moan slipping free as he bottomed out, hips snug to her ass. Sylan groaned low, the sound muffled against her shoulder, savoring the velvet heat of her—pulsing, slick, gripping him like velvet over steel. "Even asleep... you take me so perfect," he rasped, free hand clamping her hip possessive, holding her steady as he began to move—slow, deliberate drags out, then easy rolls in, each one savoring the drag, the way her body responded on pure instinct, hips canting back faint to meet him.
Her moans stayed breathy, dream-soft—hips rocking subtle against him in sleepy invitation, breaths quickening as pleasure filtered through the haze. Sylan's pace built gradual, thrusts deepening, the wet glide of him filling the quiet—his cock stretching her tender walls, hitting spots that drew whimpers even from slumber. His free hand wandered low, fingers slipping between her thighs to find her clit—circling light, teasing the swollen nub until her body trembled, breaths fracturing to gasps.
"That's it," he purred dark against her ear, voice a coaxing rumble, lips nipping her lobe. "Feel me, love. Let it build." Her walls quivered around him, clenching tighter, hips grinding back unconscious as the coil wound slow and sweet. His fingers pressed firmer on her clit—rubbing tight loops in time with his thrusts—while his other hand splayed her belly, holding her close as he drove deeper, the angle letting him grind against that ridge inside her that made her keen even in dreams.
Virelle's body tensed gradual, back arching faint as the peak crested— a broken whimper spilling from her lips, nails digging blind into the pillow as she shattered soft, walls spasming rhythmic around him, milking his length in waves that pulled a groan from his gut. Sylan followed ragged—cock throbbing deep, spilling hot and thick inside her with a stifled curse, the flood of it pushing fresh tremors through her sleeping form.
For endless beats, they stayed fused—locked in the hush, breaths tangling in the dark, his lips lingering on her shoulder in soft, sated kisses. Virelle sighed content, body easing lax against his, still adrift in slumber.
Sylan eased free slow, the slick drag leaving her fluttering empty, his cock gleaming with their essence. He rolled to his back, chest laboring, mind spinning wild with the rush—the dark thrill of it, the trust she'd given even unaware. He'd finally seized what his old scars had denied—and gods, it burned better than any dream.
As he watched Virelle's serene sleep—face slack and peaceful, lips curved faint—he felt a shadowed contentment settle, deep and satisfied. The night stretched long, and he meant to wring every drop from it.
The bed's gentle, insistent rock finally tugged Virelle from sleep's deep pull—a dull, sweet throb pulsing between her thighs, her body still echoing faint waves of bliss. She blinked groggy into the embers' dim haze, vision sharpening slow on the hearth's glow. The solid heat of Sylan's frame pressed her back—breath scorching her neck, arm slung possessive over her waist, holding her close like she'd slip away otherwise.
Then it hit—the thick, unyielding stretch of him buried deep within her.
A gasp tore free, sharp and startled, sleep shattering as awareness flooded. "Sylan—?" Her voice rasped husky with remnants of dreams and shock, but no anger laced it—only a gradual, blooming warmth as she registered the fullness, the way he filled her so utterly, her body clenching instinctive around his girth.
He didn't falter. His hips rolled lazy against hers, cock gliding in and out with measured ease—the slow drag sparking fresh friction along her sensitive walls. "Morning, love," he murmured, voice gravel-thick with want, lips nuzzling the curve of her ear, sending shivers racing down her spine. "Or... still night?"
Virelle's frame answered before her mind caught up—inner muscles fluttering tight around him, a soft moan slipping past her lips as he nudged that spot deep inside that turned her knees to water. "You—" Words tangled, dissolving to a breathy whine as his fingers snaked low, finding her clit—circling precise, firm loops that made her hips buck back, chasing the spark.
"Shh," he soothed, voice a dark velvet rumble, free hand drifting up to palm her breast—thumb flicking the nipple to a tight peak, rolling it until she arched. "Just let me have you. Like this."
She should've snapped at him—shoved his shoulder, demanded why he'd stolen this while she drifted. But the glide of him—profound, unhurried strokes that stretched her tender, hit every quivering nerve—robbed the protest, turning it to ash. Instead, she pressed back into him, ass grinding his hips, a silent yes that drew a growl from his throat.
Sylan groaned deep, hold on her hip bruising as he quickened—pace turning insistent, thrusts sharpening to claim. "That's my girl," he snarled, voice edged black with ownership. "So perfect... even half-asleep, you grip me like this."
Virelle twisted her head, snaring his mouth in a scorching kiss—tongue plunging to taste the sleep-salt on him, her hips circling to meet his drive, the angle letting him grind profound. She broke gasping, nails gouging the arm banded her waist. "Harder," she demanded, voice a fractured whisper, no room for soft.
Sylan obliged without a beat.
He rolled them seamless—pinning her under his weight in a swift twist that wrenched a cry from her as he surged home harder, the shift letting him plunge deeper, cock battering that ridge inside her that sparked stars. His crimson eyes blazed down at her, blond locks curtaining wild, as he loomed—hips snapping fierce against hers, the bed protesting with sharp creaks. "Like that?" he rasped, voice frayed on the hunger, one hand bracketing her head, the other gripping her thigh to splay her wider.
"Yes—" The plea shattered to a moan as he nailed it again, relentless. "Don't—stop—"
His mouth sealed hers devouring, muffling her wails as he hammered in—bed shaking, the lewd wet smack of their joining ringing off the walls, breaths fracturing hot and frantic. Virelle slung her legs his waist, heels gouging his ass to spur him wilder, the dual blaze of him stretching her full and his body grinding her clit sending her spiraling, body coiling iron-tight as ecstasy built to breaking.
"I won't," he vowed against her lips, fractured. "Not ever."
His fingers dove between them, rubbing her clit in furious loops as his cock pistoned merciless— the double assault hurling her over. Virelle's peak thrashed like breakers—back vaulting the bed, body vise on him in pulsing waves as she wailed into his mouth, slick flooding hot. Sylan chased with a guttural groan, release surging deep—cock throbbing, spilling thick ropes inside her as he buried in her neck, hips stuttering through the storm.
They lay spent long minutes, breaths slowing in tandem—Sylan kissing her collarbone lazy, then her mouth, voice rough-worn with fulfillment. "There—wide awake now."
Virelle laughed winded, fingers knotting his hair, tugging him near. "Think I like this alarm better."
His grin flashed wicked, rolling to his side to draw her flush—hand already wandering her curves. "Good," he murmured, voice dropping dark, fingers tracing her thigh up. "We're barely scratching the surface." They found her again—slick and eager—thumb circling her clit light. "Two days yet, remember?"
Virelle's breath snagged as he slipped two fingers within, thumb teasing steady. "I think," she gasped, "I'm going to need you to remind me often."