Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart hammered against my ribs, keeping pace with the frantic rhythm of our joined bodies. Beneath me was the woman I loved—the one true love among all I had known. Though she had been married before, she was now entirely mine. Her naked legs were wide open, accepting all of me. Her skin glowed in the dim light, a vision of pure, unbridled need.
"Please, Hon… wait… I just—"
Gasp.
Her plea was a fragile thing, shattered the moment I pressed forward. I couldn't wait. I wouldn't. It was a slow, deliberate invasion, a mindful force that tested the very limits of what we could be.
"—ah!"
The syllable tore from her throat, a jagged, broken sound of exquisite pleasure. The instinct to push me away vanished from her eyes, replaced instantly by the overwhelming need to be closer.
Scritch.
I felt the sharp sting of her nails raking down my back, carving burning lines across my skin.
"It's too much… Hon… I'm going to break…" she whimpered, her head thrashing against the white pillow, her light blue hair fanning out like a halo.
I completely disregarded her protests, my mind a storm of irrational desire. I was driven by a singular, fundamental imperative: to secure her for myself before another could claim her. This time, I would not be denied. We had fled, journeyed far, adopted new identities, and concealed our movements, even on this remote island. As I took her breast into my hand, the soft weight and sudden rush of heat ignited a primal, all-consuming urgency within me...
Creak. Rattle.
The sturdy bed frame groaned, bolting against the floorboards as I shifted. With a low grunt, I angled my hips, sliding deeper, maximizing the connection until there was no space left between us.
Slap. Slap.
The wet, rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small room, a heavy, desperate tempo.
"Too… ahhh… deep," she panted, her chest heaving in ragged, shallow pulls. Her pupils blew wide, swallowing the iris as her eyes rolled back. She was surrendering.
"You're… hitting… everything…" she breathed, a confirmation of the consuming depth.
Thmp. Thmp. Thmp.
I set the pace. A pounding, masterful rhythm. I started with a slow, grinding thrust, letting her savor the profound stretch, the feeling of being filled and possessed from the inside out.
Then, I let go.
Squeak-thud-squeak-thud.
A furious volley of quick strokes sent her into a frenzied cycle of cries. She was a storm of sensual contradictions—her hips arched to meet me, begging for more, yet her lips formed silent pleas for mercy.
"Hon… more… you're breaking me… ahh… ahh!"
Her voice was a siren song. It stoked the fire in my blood, urging me to push harder, stronger. I gripped her hips with bruising intensity, my fingers digging into her soft flesh as electric pleasure shot through her core.
She was mine. Every inch of her claimed, marked, possessed.
The rhythm escalated, wild and frantic. We were driving toward a precipice, and I wasn't going to let us fall alone.
"Hnnngh!"
With a guttural grunt, I lifted her. My arms wrapped around her, cradling her like a child, but our union remained unbroken. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, locking us together.
The new angle was a revelation. Deeper. Complete.
Mmmmnnnnhhh…
She moaned, a long, low vibration that hummed against my chest.
I leaned in, my voice a gravelly growl against the shell of her ear.
"Give it to me."
It was an order. And she obeyed.
Her hips began a frantic, grinding rhythm against mine, riding me like a woman possessed. She was a sinuous wave of pleasure and desperation, trying to scratch an itch only I could reach.
I felt it building. The pressure. The molten core of heat gathering in my loins, throbbing, demanding release. The brink was looming large.
I leaned down, my breath a hot, ragged whisper against her neck.
"I'm going to cum."
She clung to me, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her voice hoarse with exertion and bliss.
Smooch.
Our lips met, sealing the violent, beautiful descent into ecstasy.
Haaaaaah—!
Her breath hitched, then broke into a long, keening wail against my mouth, vibrating through my entire skull. I felt her inner muscles clamp down, a rhythmic, desperate squeezing that seemed to milk the very soul out of me.
Throb. Pulse. Release.
The heat erupted from my core, flooding her, filling that deep, hollow ache we had both been trying to escape. My vision went white. The only things that existed were the frantic hammering of our hearts against each other's chests and the wet, slick sounds of our bodies finally fusing into one.
Clench.
"Oh god... Ten...!" she sobbed, her fingernails digging into my shoulders, anchoring herself as the waves crashed over us.
Shudder.
I couldn't speak. I could only hold her, emptying myself completely, pouring every ounce of my love, my fear, and my desperate hope into her. We hung there, suspended in that blinding peak, until the fire slowly burned down to a glowing ember.
Haaah... haaah...
The room went silent, save for the ragged synchronization of our breathing and the settling groan of the abused bed frame.
Creak.
We didn't let go. We couldn't. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and love, wishing—praying—that this moment could last forever.
Warm light slipped through the curtains and settled on my skin. The room still smelled like her—soft, warm, comforting. She lay beside me, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest before she stretched with a little yawn.
"Careful," she said, giving me a teasing smile. "You're going to break me one of these days."
I laughed quietly and brushed a kiss across her forehead. "Then I'll just carry you everywhere."
She shoved me lightly and sat up, her hair falling over her shoulders. "I'm taking a bath first. Stay put."
The sound of running water echoed through the room.
I reached for my phone without thinking. One notification caught my eye—
a voice message from the orphanage.
My chest tightened before I even tapped play. Then the familiar, trembling voice of the director filled the room.
"We… we received it. The funds—your donation—came through. We can finally pay the mortgage. We can build a new dorm. The kids will have real beds… real meals… I don't know how to thank you…"
A long breath escaped me.
Relief. Pure, overwhelming relief.
Finally… they'll be okay.
I leaned back, imagining how she'd react when I told her. She'd hit me on the shoulder for "acting like a martyr," then hug me so tightly I couldn't breathe. I could already hear her scolding me for not keeping more money for myself.
I slipped out of bed and walked to the kitchen, grinding fresh coffee beans. My life wasn't perfect, but for the first time in years, it felt like everything was heading somewhere good.
That's when I heard it—
a tiny shift in the air.
Barely anything.
But enough.
I turned.
The masked man was already lunging toward me.
Everything exploded at once. A knife flashed. His arm swung. Instinct took over. I slammed his wrist against the counter, twisted hard, and forced the blade back into his neck.
He dropped to the floor without a sound.
And then—
A scream.
Her scream.
My whole body went cold. I sprinted toward the bathroom.
The door burst open.
I froze.
She was being dragged out—barely covered, terrified, shaking. Another gunman held her by the arm. And behind them stood her husband. The man she ran from. The man who treated her like a possession.
He smiled at me like he had already won.
"You really thought you could take what's mine?" he asked softly.
"She's not—"
The gunshot cut me off.
A burning shock tore through my chest. I staggered back, breath stolen from my lungs. The world tilted. Colors smeared. My knees buckled.
She broke free enough to crawl toward me, tears streaming down her face.
"No—no, please! Don't die! Don't leave me—!"
Her voice cracked into a sob as my vision swallowed itself whole.
Darkness.
Cold.
Silence.
I drifted in nothingness for what felt like forever.
Then sensation returned—
but wrong.
I tried to inhale. No lungs.
I tried to scream. No voice.
I tried to move… eight limbs responded.
Eight.
A pulse of faint blue light rippled across my skin. I forced myself to look down—or whatever counted as down now.
A small, trembling octopus stared back at me from the reflection of a warped metal scrap.
No… no, this can't—
My panic made the water around me swirl, my tentacles flailing helplessly. I drifted through a trench filled with sunken ruins—broken metal pillars, shattered statues, long-lost architecture swallowed by coral.
The truth hit harder than the bullet did.
This is my punishment.
For seducing married women.
For being a gigolo.
For ruining homes—even if those homes were cages.
For loving a woman I couldn't save.
For dying without confirming if the kids would survive.
I wanted to cry—
but octopuses don't have tears.
All I could do was curl my tentacles around myself and let my bioluminescent body flicker like a dying star.
In that crushing, suffocating darkness, I prayed.
Please… let her live.
Please… let the kids be safe.
Please… don't let this life be for nothing.
My tiny body trembled. The ocean carried no reply.
And so began my second life—
alone, powerless,
reborn not as a man or hero…
…but as a small, broken creature in the deep,
mourning the world I lost.