mchenry-crisis.org Chapter 294- Nara in Ecastasy
Chapter 294- Nara in Ecastasy
She didn’t plan for them to. They just did. Her face tilted very slightly upward with the pressure of his thumbs on her jaw, her lips parting on a slow exhale, her hands still resting loosely against his chest.
He cupped water in his palm and let it run over her hair.
She made a sound that had nothing sexual in it at all. Just — a girl who had been through something intense and cold and now had someone washing her hair in still desert water under a fat moon, and whose body had opinions about that.
"Don’t be nice to me," she said quietly, eyes still closed.
"Why?"
"Because it makes it harder."
"What does it make harder?"
A pause.
"Hating you."
He ran his hand through her wet hair one more time, gently working out the sand, and said nothing.
His mouth found the side of her neck.
She felt it before she processed it — the warm press of lips against the wet skin below her ear, just above the collar’s upper edge. Slow. Deliberate. Tasting the water and salt of her skin.
Her neck tilted to the side automatically. Without instruction. Without deciding to.
"Cruxius—" His name came out different. Not fractured and desperate like it had been in the sand. Lower. Warmer. The way a person says a name they say often in their own head.
"Mm." His lips moved down her neck. The collar pressed warmly against her skin as his mouth worked beneath it, finding the soft curve where her neck met her shoulder.
His hands slid back to her waist under the water.
She felt his cock against her stomach.
Hard. Thick. The blunt, heavy length of it pressed against her lower belly through the cold water, insistently present, making its continued intentions entirely clear.
She laughed.
Genuinely. A short, exhausted, disbelieving laugh that came out of her throat like something she’d been holding in for hours.
"Again?" She pulled back enough to look at his face. "Seriously — again?"
"Mm."
"I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve—"
"Don’t count."
"My body is—"
"I know." His thumbs traced lazy circles against her wet hipbones. "I’ll be gentle."
She stared at him.
"You said that last time."
"I meant it last time too."
Her mouth opened.
Closed.
"That is the least reassuring thing anyone has ever said to me," she said.
He kissed the bridge of her nose.
She absolutely did not make a sound at that. She refused. The tiny, involuntary exhale that escaped her counted as nothing.
His hands slid down from her hips to the backs of her thighs.
"Up," he said simply.
She wrapped her legs around his waist in the water.
The cold pool swirled around them both as he lifted her — both hands under her thighs, her arms circling his neck with the easy, automatic movement of a body that had learned his frame by exhaustive practice. Her small tits pressed against his chest. Her wet hair hung against her shoulders in dark strings.
The water was at his waist. At the small of her back.
He walked them toward the center of the pool, where it deepened slightly, the smooth stones underfoot giving way to soft silt. The moon’s reflection rippled and reformed around them with each step, their movement breaking the still surface in spreading rings that reached the pool’s edge and returned.
She felt his cock positioning between her thighs.
Not at her anal. At her cunt — pressed against her swollen, puffy folds, the thick head nudging against the tight, sensitive entrance with the simple intention of a man who had made a decision.
"Wait—" Her fingers tightened at the back of his neck. "Wait, I’m still — from before — everything’s still—"
"I know."
"Then—"
He looked at her face. Directly. Not at her body, not at the junction between them, not at the water. At her eyes.
"Tell me to stop," he said.
Three words.
Quiet. Genuine. Without any of the usual warm irony layered underneath.
Nano held his gaze.
Her puffy cunt pressed against the head of his cock through the cold water, the heat of him against her oversensitive folds making her hips shift fractionally forward before she caught them.
She didn’t tell him to stop.
He pushed in slowly.
Her cunt took him differently in the water — the cold had changed her body’s tension, the oversensitivity sharpened by the temperature, every nerve ending flushed and heightened. His thick head parted her swollen lips and pressed past the tight entrance and she buried her face against the side of his neck immediately.
"Ngh—" The sound came out muffled against his skin. "H-hah—"
Slow. He kept it slow. The water moved around them with each inch of entry, small cold waves lapping against her back, his hands holding her thighs steady in the current.
’Still sore,’ her mind registered. ’Still swollen — he’s — still so thick — why is he still — how is he still—’
He seated himself fully inside her and stopped.
Just held her there in the middle of the still desert pool, her legs around his waist, his cock buried in her tight soaked cunt, the moon reflecting in the water around them.
She breathed against his neck.
He breathed against her hair.
For a moment — just a moment — there was no thrusting, no pounding, no leash, no sand. Just two people standing chest-deep in still cold water with their bodies joined, the desert completely silent around them, the moon watching from above.
"Cruxius," she said.
"Mm."
"I really..." She stopped.
He waited.
"Nothing," she whispered.
His mouth pressed against her temple. Warm. Still.
Then his hips began to move.
Pah. Pah. Pah.
Not the desert sound — muffled now, underwater and intimate, the wet sliding push of his cock through her soaked walls making a different, wetter sound in the cold pool, the water swirling in dark circles around their joined bodies with every slow thrust.
"Hah~—" The sound left her mouth quiet. Not screaming. Not wailing. Just — continuous and involuntary and warm, her face still pressed against his neck, her fingers tightening and releasing at his shoulders with every stroke. "Hah~— Cruxius — hah—"
Pah. Pah.
"Hngh~—" Her hips rolled to meet him. She didn’t try to stop them this time. "Mmnh~— not so — Cruxius — not so deep—"
"Breathe," he said.
Pah. Pah. PAH.
"NGH~!!" The water splashed outward as her whole body lurched, his deeper thrust punching a proper cry from her throat. "HAAH~!! W-wait — that was—"
His mouth found hers again.
He kissed her through the thrust. Through the next one. His lips muffled the sound her body wanted to make, swallowing it, his tongue pressing past hers with the same unhurried authority his cock pressed through her tight walls.
She kissed back desperately.
Pah! Pah!
"Mmph~!! Mnngh~!!" Against his mouth, the sounds came out bitten and broken and small, trapped between kissing and crying and the overwhelming push of his cock filling her swollen cunt. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her legs squeezed tighter around his waist.
He pulled back from the kiss enough to breathe.
Her lips chased his by half an inch before she caught herself.
He saw it.
"Look at me," he said.
She looked at him.
Pah! Pah!
"Hngh~!!" Her eyes wanted to close. The sensation wanted to take her somewhere internal and dark and overwhelming. She forced them to stay open, wet and wide and completely, devastatingly honest. "H-hah~— Cruxius — I can’t — it’s—"
"I have you," he said.
Pah. PAH!
"AAHH~!!" The water erupted around them, her small body lurching backward before his arms caught it, the moon’s reflection shattered into a hundred fragments by the movement. "NGHH~!! Th-that’s — HAAAH~!!"
His thrusts found a rhythm. Not jackhammer — measured, deep, his whole body driving forward with the full investment of his core and thighs, each stroke deliberate and complete, the cold water swirling wildly around them, splashing against the flat stones at the pool’s edge with every impact.
Pah! Pah! PAH!
"OUNGH~!! HIEKK~!! Crux—NGHAAAA~!!"
Her small tits bounced against his chest with every thrust, the wet slap of them audible even over the water. Her stiff nipples dragged against his skin and she made sounds she couldn’t control, high and fractured and continuous, her face swinging between burying against his neck and pulling back to breathe open-mouthed at the moon.
’Full,’ her overwhelmed mind circled. ’He’s — filling me — the water — cold and — he’s — hot inside and — I can’t—’
"Cruxius—" His name kept coming out. She couldn’t stop it. "Cruxius — Cruxius—"
"Still here," he said.
PAH! PAH!
"HIEEENGHTT~!! AAANGHH~!!" Water flew from her hair with the force of her head snapping back, her throat bare to the moon, the silver collar catching the light in a single bright flash. "Too — too deep — NGHH~!! Too deep — I—"
His mouth found her exposed throat.
Lips and teeth against the wet skin above the collar, a slow, deliberate bite that stopped just short of marking, the pressure shooting electricity down through her chest and her nipples and her cramping inner walls simultaneously.
The orgasm hit her like the flat of a hand.
"AAAIIYAANGHH~!!!"
The sound bounced off the low dunes and returned, the desert giving it back to them as a faint echo, the pool exploding outward in a complete circle of white-capped ripples as her entire body seized in his arms.
Her cunt crushed down around his cock in a vice-grip clench, the walls spasming in rapid, rolling pulses, her arousal gushing hot into the cold water around them. Her legs locked around his waist hard enough that he felt it. Her fingers clawed his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
Her head fell forward against his chest and she sobbed.
Actually sobbed — deep, chest-pulling sobs that shook her small frame against his, her wet hair draped over both of them, the tears running freely down her face and dropping into the pool that already contained so much of her this evening.
He held her.
He kept moving — slow now, slower, long rolls of his hips that worked her through the aftershocks, his hands moving up and down her spine while her walls continued their helpless clenching around him.
"I’ve got you," he said quietly. Into her hair.
She sobbed harder.