[The Obsidian Spire, Realm of Aethelgard - Unrecorded Epoch, 12:15 AM]
Cal's newly minted, hyper-responsive body was currently fighting a massive, terrifying war between the instinct to flee and the overwhelming, primal urge to breed.
Fleeing was mathematically impossible. General Xyliana had him pinned flat against the freezing obsidian slab. Her left knee was planted firmly on the stone between his thighs, her thick, leather-clad leg pressing heavily against his groin. The sheer density of her muscles, combined with the battered armor, made her feel like a living, breathing statue carved from marble and violence.
The scent of her was a physical weight in his lungs—crushed night-blooming jasmine, the metallic tang of blood, the sharp ozone of a thunderstorm, and beneath it all, the heavy, intoxicating musk of female arousal. It was a smell that short-circuited higher reasoning.
"Extraction?" Cal repeated, his voice cracking horribly. His hands, resting flat on the freezing stone beside his hips, clenched into fists. His massive, aching erection throbbed visibly against his lower stomach, a thick, veiny ridge of flesh that he had absolutely no control over. "What does that... what does that mean?"
Xyliana's slitted emerald eyes dropped to his twitching cock, tracking the bead of slick pre-come that had formed at the slit. Her aristocratic face remained impassive, but her pupils dilated, swallowing the green until her eyes were almost entirely black.
"Eros mana is not drawn from the air, human," she stated, her voice a low, vibrating purr that resonated in Cal's chest cavity. "It is not channeled through incantations or drawn from the earth. It is a biological imperative. It is generated through extreme physical sensation, and it is transferred through fluid."
His ignorance is almost endearing, Xyliana thought, her gaze tracing the rapid, panicked pulse beating at the base of his pale throat. But the density of his aura... it's intoxicating. If I don't siphon him soon, my core will collapse entirely.
She smoothly unbuckled the heavy, serrated broadsword from her hip, letting the massive weapon clatter loudly onto the stone floor. The sound made Cal jump.
Then, she reached for the scorched laces at the front of her torn leather corset.
"To repair a core as shattered as mine," she continued, her calloused, fingerless-gloved hands deftly pulling the leather ties loose, "I require a direct, internal connection. A continuous, unfiltered stream of your energy, pumped directly into my center."
Cal stopped breathing.
The heavy leather parted. The corset fell open, revealing the full, breathtaking mass of her breasts. They were heavy, pale, and incredibly soft-looking compared to the hardened muscle of her shoulders and arms. Her nipples were large, dark, and pebble-hard in the freezing air of the cavern. The jagged black tattoo on her collarbone pulsed faster, a visual heartbeat of her desperate need.
She shrugged the corset off entirely, tossing it into the shadows. She wore nothing underneath. Her broad, muscular torso was marked with faded silver scars, a testament to centuries of war, but her skin looked impossibly smooth.
"Wait," Cal gasped, his mind finally catching up to the reality of the situation. "You mean—"
"I mean I am going to ride you until your soul leaks out of your cock, little battery," she stated bluntly.
Before Cal could process the sheer, terrifying perfection of that sentence, Xyliana moved. She swung her right leg over his torso, straddling his hips completely. The weight of her settling onto him forced a harsh breath out of his lungs. Her thick, armored thighs clamped around his waist, the cold leather of her greaves scraping against his sensitive, naked skin.
But where she pressed against his groin, there was no armor.
Through a slit in the dark fabric of her battle trousers, the slick, boiling heat of her sex pressed directly against the thickest part of his straining shaft.
"Ffffuck," Cal hissed, his head falling back against the stone.
The contrast was staggering. The altar beneath him was ice. The demoness on top of him was a furnace. She was incredibly wet, her natural lubrication seeping through the fabric of her pants and coating his rigid flesh.
Xyliana leaned forward, her heavy breasts swaying, the dark nipples brushing agonizingly close to his chest. She planted her calloused hands on the stone on either side of his head, caging him.
"You are shaking," she noted, her breath hot against his lips. The smell of her arousal was so potent now that it tasted sharp and sweet on his tongue. "Are you afraid, human?"
"No," Cal lied, his hips bucking upward purely on instinct, seeking friction. The thick head of his cock dragged against her soaked cleft, smearing his pre-come into her wetness. "I just... I don't know the limits of this body yet."
A dark, wicked chuckle rumbled in her chest. "We are about to find out."
She shifted her weight upward slightly, her hands leaving the stone to grip his hips. Her fingers were strong, bruising as they dug into his flesh, lifting his pelvis off the altar.
"Ahhn..." Xyliana let out a soft, rough moan as she reached down between their bodies. Her cold, calloused fingers wrapped around the base of his rigid, burning cock. The sensation of her rough warrior's grip on his hyper-sensitive flesh sent a jolt of pure white electricity straight to his brain.
She guided the blunt, weeping head of his shaft to the slick entrance of her pussy.
"Don't pass out," she ordered softly.
And then, she sank down.
Cal let out a raw, guttural cry, his jaw locking tight.
It wasn't a slow, gentle slide. She took him with the ruthless efficiency of a warlord claiming territory. The tight, scalding ring of her entrance stretched, swallowing the thick head of his cock, and then she drove her hips down hard, sinking onto the entire agonizing length of him in one brutal motion.
"Ghhh-uk!" Cal choked, his eyes rolling back slightly.
The heat inside her was unimaginable. Her vaginal walls were heavily muscled, clamping down around his shaft with a vice-like grip that pulsed rhythmically, milking him instantly. His balls drew up tight, smacking against the slick, wet flesh of her ass. The fit was so tight, so impossibly deep, that he felt the pressure radiating all the way up into his stomach.
Xyliana threw her head back, a long, guttural moan ripping from her throat. "Nnngh... yes. By the void, your mana..."
It burns, Xyliana thought, her slitted eyes squeezing shut as the sheer, overwhelming rush of his raw energy flooded into her shattered core. It's so thick, so pure. He is a localized singularity of Eros.
She didn't give him time to adjust. Her hands maintained a punishing grip on his hips, holding him firmly in place as she began to move.
Slap. Slurp.
She pulled her hips up, the tight wetness of her core dragging agonizingly against his veiny shaft, pulling him almost entirely out until only the slick head remained inside. Then she slammed back down, burying him to the hilt with a wet, heavy smack of flesh against flesh.
"Ah! Wait, fuck—Xyliana, slow—" Cal gasped, his hands flying up to grip her thick, muscular thighs, trying to brace himself against the onslaught.
"Quiet," she commanded, grinding her pelvis in a sharp circle at the base of the thrust, maximizing the friction against his sensitive frenulum. "I dictate the pace, battery. Your only job is to provide."
Slap. Slap. Slurp.
The sounds in the dark cavern were obscenely loud. The wet, rhythmic slapping of her heavy thighs against his hips echoed off the obsidian walls. Cal's vision was completely tunneling. The cold of the stone beneath him was completely forgotten, eclipsed by the boiling, suffocating heat of the demon general using his body to save her own life.
She rode him with violent, practiced precision. Every thrust was designed to extract maximum sensation. She leaned forward, her silver hair curtaining them in, and dragged her teeth across the sensitive skin of his collarbone.
"Your energy is incredible," she panted, her hips snapping down in a rapid, blurring rhythm. "Give it to me. Fill my core. Give me everything you have."
Cal was losing his mind. The Gooner who had spent years staring at screens was currently having his soul sucked out through his cock by a six-foot-tall monster girl. The pressure in his groin was building at a terrifying speed, a coiled spring ready to snap.
"I'm—fuck, I'm going to—" Cal ground out, his hips automatically thrusting up to meet her brutal downward strokes, driving himself deeper into her scalding depths.
Xyliana's slitted eyes snapped open, glowing with a fierce, possessive light. She leaned her face inches from his, her hot, jasmine-scented breath mixing with his panicked gasps.
"Do it," she snarled, her internal muscles clamping down around his shaft so hard it actually ached. "Flood me."