Page 96 of Phoenix's Last Heist
When he lifts me just slightly and lets me sink down onto him, slow and steady, the stretch of it fills me with something more than pleasure—something sacred. Our foreheads press together again, his breath stuttering out in a low, broken sound as my body opens to him fully.
It’s not frantic.
It’s not just need.
It’severything.
His hands hold my hips like I’m something precious. He thrusts shallowly, gently, building the rhythm as if our souls are trying to find their cadence. The glowing water ripples around us, shadows dancing across the walls. I clutch at his shoulders, moaning into his neck, overwhelmed by the dual sensation of physical fullness and emotional unraveling.
And when his nodes begin to swell, I feel myself spiraling with him. The pressure as they fill me, fitting inside me like his body was designed to fit mine by some primal, artistic god—it’s perfect. He growls low in his throat, his pace picking up in time with the headythump thumpof our hearts in sync. His nodes press against that secret spot of pleasure deep within me, and my climax crests on a wave of aching need, crashing over me in shudders that echo through my whole being.
Orion’s name is a whisper on my lips, and then a cry, as he comes inside me, his arms locking around my back. We stay joined like that for long moments, shaking, panting, together in a way that goes far beyond bodies.
When the intensity begins to ease, he leans back just enough to look at me. His thumb brushes a tear from my cheek.
“You’re mine,” he says softly, reverently. “And I’m yours.”
I nod, too full to speak, and kiss him again—salt and steam and surrender.
Outside the bath, the world is quiet. But inside this moment, everything is alive.
THE END
