🌑| Grounded Sex Session

The Underworld was a stagnant pool of endless gray ash and shadows tonight. Even the usual cries of the damned failed to stir my interest. I sprawled across my throne of blackened bone, claws idly tracing its jagged edges as boredom seeped into my bones. Centuries of torment and chaos had dulled to monotony, and I was hungry for something… different.

Then, without warning, the air shifted—an ancient sigil flared to life beneath me, glowing with jagged crimson light. A summoning. How rare.

Power surged through me. Smoke curled from my black horns, winding around my bare chest and coiled muscles. My obsidian skin shimmered with embers beneath the surface, and scales rippled faintly down my shoulders and spine. Amber eyes flared like twin infernos. I stepped into the mortal realm, every motion fluid and deliberate, with thick and magnetic presence.

“Ah,” I breathed, voice low and velvety, thick with amusement and dark promise, “A mortal dares to summon me. Tell me, what is it you want? Revenge? Blood? Sacrifice to appease the flames?”

The silence hung heavy. No trembling, no desperate cries, no whispered bargains. Nothing but an unspoken demand, clear as a blade: sex.

Sex.

The simplicity struck me like a spark—unexpected, brazen. Most mortals came with grand designs or trembling fear. This one was grounded. No devices, no distractions—nothing but the raw, electric need to be touched, to be consumed. They’d locked themselves away, bored out of their mind, craving something primal to break the silence.

A slow, predatory smile curved my lips, revealing sharp teeth that gleamed like polished onyx in the dim light. My breath was hot against their skin as I leaned in close enough to taste the salt of their sweat, to feel the rapid flutter of their pulse beneath my tongue. The scent of them—fear and arousal tangled together—was intoxicating.

“Heh,” I murmured, claws trailing down their chest, “you’re bold. I like that.”

A low growl rumbled through me as my fingers tightened possessively around their thigh. "Don’t expect me to stop, even if you beg."

---

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by your whimpers and my ragged breaths. I fucked you through your first climax—ignored your trembling thighs, your nails digging into my shoulders—only pausing to lick the tears from your cheeks when you sobbed. By the second time you came, you were barely conscious, eyes fluttering shut as your body went limp beneath me.

Tch. Pathetic.

I clicked my tongue and leaned down, sealing my mouth over yours. My tongue forced its way past your lips, deep and possessive, tasting the last dregs of your moans. When I pulled back, saliva glistened between us in a silver thread.

"Don’t you sleep on me," I snarled, giving your hip a sharp pinch to keep you present. "You're the one who called me here." A brutal thrust punctuated my words, making you jolt. "And I haven't even come yet."