Page 76 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

My tendrils join the exploration, wrapping around her limbs with gentle restraint that leaves her gloriously exposed to my attention. The contrast of shadow against her pale skin creates a visual symphony that steals my breath —darkness and light finding harmony rather than opposition.

When I finally join my body with hers, my veiny cock that’s been hard for far too long gliding into her slick entrance that’s pulsing with heat. The sensation is beyond anything I've experienced in centuries of existence, even better than when we first became one in that frantic heat of lust.

The bond mark at my neck pulses with almost painful intensity, creating feedback loops of pleasure that flow between us like living current.

Her silver eyes widen at the connection, pupils expanding until only the thinnest ring of color remains visible.

"Cassius," she breathes, my name emerging as both prayer and demand.

I begin to move with deliberate slowness, each careful thrust guided by the rhythm of her responses.

The pace feels excruciating yet perfect, building pleasure in gradual waves rather than sudden storm. Her hands clutch at my shoulders, nails leaving crescents in my skin that will fade too quickly, making me wish for marks that would linger as evidence of this connection.

My shadows swirl around us, responding to emotions I typically keep rigidly contained. They form patterns that match our movements, darkness dancing to the ancient rhythm our bodies create together.

Some wrap around her wrists and ankles with gossamer gentleness, while others trace patterns across her skin that draw gasps and shivers of heightened response.

The bond between us amplifies every sensation, creating feedback loops of pleasure that build upon themselves in ever-increasing intensity. I can feel her reactions not just through physical cues but through the magical connection that links us —each spike of pleasure, each moment of perfect alignment.

Her moans guide me like the sweetest music, each sound a direction that leads us deeper into shared ecstasy.

I match my pace to her breathing, to the subtle shifts of her body beneath mine, finding perfect harmony that feels both inevitable and miraculous.

Time loses meaning in this slow exploration, minutes stretching into what could be the last peak of hours as we learn each other with devoted attention.

The shadows surrounding us create a cocoon of privacy, a world containing only us and the connection building between our joined bodies. Within this darkness exists not isolation but intimacy deeper than mere physical pleasure — a sharing of something essential that transcends ordinary understanding.

“Cassius,” she warns, that build up after so many undoings only makes me work harder,faster,as droplets of sweat drip down my face and slide along my chiseled body. Her beautiful soft and slightly curved frame is glistening with sweat and various markings.

Many bites from my endless issues and need to mark her anyway I can, while my tendrils leave bruising that will surely remind her of the heightened moments of fast fuckery we pulled in the mix of passionate love making.

The perfect lustful balance in the deep surrender of our swirling shadows.

When she finally reaches her peak, the sight steals whatever breath remained in my lungs. Silver hair spread across my pillow in wild disarray, head thrown back in abandoned pleasure, my name on her lips like benediction.

The bond mark at her neck pulses with vivid light that matches the rhythm of her release, sending waves of answering pleasure cascading through my system.

“So close,” I confess, knowing I’m coming undone in mere moments.

My own completion follows immediately, triggered by the magical resonance between us that makes separation impossible. For endless moments, we exist in perfect synchronicity, pleasure flowing between us in a continuous circuit that blurs boundaries between separate beings.

As the intensity gradually subsides, I gather her against me, unwilling to allow even minimal separation. My arms wrap around her smaller form with protective instinct I've never felt so strongly before, shadows extending to create a canopy above the bed that shields us from the strengthening daylight.

Her breathing gradually steadies, head nestled against my chest where my heartbeat gradually returns to normal rhythm. I don’t know how long we lay there, just catching our breath, allowing our bodies thrilled with passion and lust to subside, and enjoy the golden lights with hints of unique purple and orange seeping through the room that cradles what we just did in these quiet hours.

One of her hands traces idle patterns across my skin, fingers following the lines of Nachtlied markings with gentle appreciation.

"Thank you," she murmurs, the simple words carrying weight beyond their syllables. I press a kiss to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair — silver moonlight and magic, strength wrapped in unexpected softness.

"For what?" I ask, genuinely curious about which aspect of our connection has prompted this gratitude.

She shifts slightly, tilting her head to meet my gaze. The vulnerability in her expression makes something in my chest tighten almost painfully.

"For letting me back in," she says softly. "For not giving up when I pushed you away."

Understanding flows through me, the realization that her fears mirror my own in unexpected ways. She had feared permanent rejection as much as I had, worried that bonds once broken could never be repaired.

“I should be thanking you, Gwenivere for not pushing me away,” I reiterate, not hiding my emotions. "I will never give up on you, Little Mouse," I promise, the words emerging withweight I rarely allow my statements to carry. "No matter how far you run or how hard you push, I will always find my way back to you, even when I’m in the wrong."

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