"Cumming! Aaaahhhh!"
Cecilia shattered, a wave of intense pleasure cresting and breaking, leaving her trembling against the door as she squirted all over him, the heat a shocking contrast to the cool night air.
Transfer!Oathran didn't have a pair of majestic horns. His hair was stark white, but human-short, not a flowing waterfall. He didn't have a shapeshifting draconic form or a pair of cocks.
This was a twenty-year-old boy's body, all lean muscle and human urgency. But the rhythm of his thrusts, the focus in his storm-grey eyes, the possessive curl of his fingers, he was still the man she knew, distilled into a more frantic, mortal vessel.
In this body, his touch was purely, fiercely human. He was more impatient, more frantic, driven by a teenager's desperate hunger.
He treated her exactly as he'd said, like a high school slut. But beneath the raw need, there was a thread of that meticulous care, a subtle thoughtfulness.
