Chapitre 106: End of Chapter 33
"Not our blood," Seraphim told her, stabbing a long trident to the ground with a hiss. His eyes were red, glowing crimson, too wide to be sane. He was the one who had gotten hurt, and something hissed in his arm, something was bubbling from within him. The ink was already sliding off him, splattering to the ground. "This is all monster, but my body is struggling to close the wounds."
"You're hurt." Rue stood up, and immediately her mind jumped to the bloodsucker. "Where's Levi?"
Dante stepped in quietly with his arms crossed, eyes hard as he stared like an examiner, like judgement himself. Fury boiling through him, sour petulant, growing distrust like a cloud of storms. He didn't even care to step any closer, irritation in his jaw, panic tapping at his feet.
Something was wrong.
"Levi can't lick me, he'll die from it. And I can't heal myself because I'm in Rampage," Seraphim answered, a snap in his tone. No coyness, just need. "Come here please, you'll need to help me."
"I—"
Dante's snap was burning irritation, a moment of hesitation was enough to have his hackles raised. "Guide him! Do you want to fail?"
"I'm fucking doing it," Rue snarled back, stalking forward.
There was a flush in Seraphim's cheeks when she cupped his cheeks. And his eyes continued dilating further into a watery darkness, blown pupils as his lips parted into a pant. But his arm seemed to be boiling, bubbling softly, losing its form, the droplets of him burned on the ground, tendrils of gas twisting in the air. The heat of him should have hurt her, but it didn't. And he nuzzled into her palm with a whining sigh.
And yet her touch didn't work, his arm continued to burn, to boil.
"Faster. Just your hands won't be enough, he's going to fizz into nothing at the speed you're going," Dante snarled. "The Rampage's too strong, he needs more than that to break out of it. The wound is serious."
"I know!" She snapped back. Her heart was racing, and the realities of a Rampage pulsed in her mind. It could be the loss of powers, it could be poison to the mind, it could be abilities hurting its Esper. But it should break him all over, should infect his entire being. And oddly, only Seraphim's arm was disintegrating, flesh melting from the clawed marks, body rippling with distress. He winced and Dante roared.
"Then do something before I make you do it—"
She shoved Seraphim against the table, lips to his, dutifully sucking tongue, pressing messy kisses to his open mouth, drinking in every sweet breath, appreciating every pleasurable grind. The Poseidon gasped, and her heart rate escalated, pounding harder as her body began tingling with need. Her thighs squeezed together, slick dribbling, no menstrual cup today. No scent blockers.
He seemed to like that, inhaling hard, groaning against her lips.
And yet his flesh continued hissing and bubbling as if burnt. She understood now the panic, the reason why Guides rarely just used touch, and would prefer jumping into sex for the speed of it. The reason why Guides could die. Her realisation must have shown. For she found herself lifted in the air by a crazed Dante, anxiety boiling through him in thunderstorms and fire.
His fear showed on his face, stark, obvious terror.
"Too slow," he snapped. "Too fucking slow, I should call for backup, a better fucking Guide—"
"Put me down before Seraphim gets hurt," she commanded, an odd burst of protection streaming from her throat. The thought of another tending to Seraphim was a stab to her gut. And Dante stumbled from her words, dropping her with a snarl.
"Don't be fucking stupid."
"Then don't distract me!" She didn't care then, hands reaching down Seraphim's pants as she pancaked his body against the solid wood, had him pressed and whining, jerking his hips. A touch and he swelled in her hands, cock spitting cum, sprayed all over her fingers in ropey hot rivulets. And yet Seraphim persisted in the Rampage, thrashing in his head, eyes wide, liquid spilling, orgasm jerking from the tautened belly. Still hurt, still unable to heal.
"What's wrong?" she blinked surprised, confused. It worked with Levi; it had worked with Valentino. It should be easy to snap Seraphim out of his Rampage. She shouldn't even need to touch his dick. And yet he remained, melting into goo before her eyes, body destroying the surface of the table. This seemed more than Rampage, there was something in his arm, stopping him, turning him, making him insane—
Dante growled. "He needs more, you stupid Guide. He's been poisoned—"
"Can you shut the fuck up?" She barked back at him, body pinched taut, anxiety growing. This was no ploy, she could recognise the danger now for what it was. The bitter pain on Seraphim's face that had Dante almost exploding. A Poseidon poisoned? Blasphemy. What the fuck had they gotten themselves into out there in the battlefield? "I'm trying to figure this out—"
"He's losing himself. This isn't just a simple fucking problem! He's losing all his goddamn water—"
Rue snarled and smacked a hand on the desk. "I'm trying to do my fucking job—"
"You're fucking spoilt brat that needs to face the real fucking world. No one's here to fuck you because we want to." Dante hissed. "Do you think Espers enjoy fucking random Guides? That we love killing them? We do it because we'll die if we don't—"
"Sit on my face," Seraphim said, voice soft and warbling. His eyes slid to hers, sweat dripping down his forehead. "Just let me eat you out. I just need your slick. There's no need for you to go further than that, I just need to drink from you, to gain strength to neutralise the poison." He licked his lips and swallowed hard. "Please."
Her pulse thundered hard in her throat, anxiety blossoming in her belly, And yet excitement thrummed in her. "W-what the fuck is that shitty excuse—"
Dante paced and seemed to explode with a roar. "Rue, I've had enough of your shit, I'm going to go get another Guide. People that fucking listen, and actually know what's at stake—"
"Fine," Rue grouched with a low snarl. "You fucking win." Her cunt was already sticky, a testament to her desire despite the rush of the situation, body clenching as she moved, pried open her thighs, and crawled over to his head with jeans to her knees. "If you lied to me, I'm going to kill you."
Seraphim shook his head. "No lies for my true mate." The term was back, echoed around the group for her, as if she cared about what it meant. His working hand was reaching now, thumb dimpling in her skin, almost tongue-tied as he stared, in awe, looking too long at her pussy as if he didn't care about his poisoned limb. "My body is just aching to have you, to protect you. It will know what to do to keep you alive, to keep me alive."
And with a flush of her cheeks, she knew what he was looking at. The red rose of her clit, the petal-like folds, the chubby swell of her flesh. The pink gradient of her flesh to the gummy centre of her hole. She'd seen it too many times in the mirror of the bathroom, but he looked at her as if she were a God.
Rue burned.
And he exhaled over her then, hot breath fanning over her curls. Then he was dragging her down, stretching her wider, pressing her against him. She allowed him to take her weight, arms braced on the table, eyes still on the flutter of his lashes, the widening of his eyes. She settled herself on his face.
The first touch of the tip of his tongue on her clit had her almost wincing back if not for the clamp of his freed arm around her waist, pressing her tight to his lips, forcing her to stay. A moan twisted and vibrated from his tongue as his eyes rolled back into his head, all crossed, tears dripping as if it were that good.
And fuck her body for almost rioting at the touch of his tongue.
Her pleasure spiked and grew as slick sprayed into his mouth, a wail snagging in her throat as she bit on her lip not wanting anyone else to hear her. She could feel her pussy pulsing against Seraphim as his lips clamped around her clit and sucked as if his life depended on it for more, tongue teasing the sensitive underside, darting against her pulse. His mouth worked with strange confidence, tonguing her clit so that slick stained his chin and squirted from her hole all sloppy into his waiting mouth.
And with that he drank as if she were a meal, his fingers digging into the meat of her thighs for more. His arm was back, poison disappearing, bubbling gone. And yet he continued his muffled moaning against her pussy, eating her out like a whore. And she was breathless, muscles flexing, lower belly taut with heat.
And she hated that it worked, that he had gotten better, was getting better. Her eyes strayed to his, noting the loss of crimson, the insanity was gone. And yet, she wanted more. God, she wanted to cum, her hips were rocking, burn on her cheeks. The tip of his tongue continued strumming at her clit, then drilling into her cunt, slurping at her pussy like a champ.
He probably couldn't breathe but the Poseidon didn't seem to fucking care, determined to taste her orgasm. And when her thighs shook, his eyes glittered with excitement, with confidence, with heart-pounding approval. He was messy and shameless about it, slobbering all over. And her hands shook as she sat harder on his face, fingers now raking through his curls, tugging him as she rocked and gyrated against his face like a slut.
Worse still, was the feeling of Dante's eyes on her body. The staring as Seraphim drilled his tongue into her cunt, head bobbing, swallowing hard. His fingers tightened against her flesh as she squeezed around him, walls clamping wet and messy around his tongue. Delirious from the heat of her arousal, from the burn of her cheeks, from Dante's eyes, from Seraphim's tongue. Her pleasure climbed towards its peak, and he seemed to know, seemed to grow increasingly animalistic.
She couldn't hide her whimpering, the fever of it rising as she pressed herself harder and faster against him. And he allowed her to do it, allowed her to abuse his tongue, abuse his lips. He purred against her, vibrating, trembling.
And when she came, she came hard, with fingers groping at her breast for her life, with her back hunched and all bowed over him as she rode his tongue. With her body shaking, thighs clamped and jiggling around his cheeks. Rue saw stars when she came squirting into his mouth, biting down the scream from her orgasm, body twisting again and again through each spasm. Just as he opened his mouth, allowed his tongue to flatten so that she might fuck her clit against the flat of his tongue. And he continued moaning into her pussy, hair all damp.
He was better than his younger mates at cunnilingus.
And maybe it was because he actually needed her to cum.
She was quivering from oversensitivity when she was done, panting breaths, unable to speak with shaking, jelly-like thighs. And when she peeled herself back to the gentle lick of his mouth still on her cunt, she shivered over him again, a weak splatter of slick squirting right into his waiting mouth. She watched him swallow, plush pillowy lips pressed together to kiss her clit once more in a little 'mwah'.
He giggled.
And she had to yank herself away, had to stumble off him with quivering legs, had to look at his sticky face, all splattered with her slick, had to look at big almost doll-like eyes of utter adoration. Her cheeks were on fire.
Seraphim beamed, leaned back with sexy wet hair, and red creases on his cheeks from the quiver of her thighs clamped around his face. His pants were soaked so thoroughly, that the wet spot had grown into rivulets that splattered all over the ground, acid hissing through the earth. And when her eyes darted to Dante's, it was to blown, dilated pupils, no Rampage, but all pure unadulterated lust. He seemed to take in a noisy, stuttering breath, almost as if lost for words at the sight that had been beholden to him.
His mouth opened then closed. Speechless.
And Gods Rue couldn't look at Seraphim without a spark of heat licking up her spine. The Poseidon was the first to speak, testing his jaw, and flexing his newly formed arm. "Thank you." He licked his lips almost as if tasting the traces of her cum, thumb to his chin which he popped into his mouth. A low needy groan sparked from his throat. "That worked better than anything I've ever experienced in my life."
"Will you give me an A?" Rue asked, voice odd on her tongue, sticky with her lust. She cleared her throat and looked at the ground.
"More than that," Seraphim answered. "Are you shy Rue?" The tease was bubbly in Seraphim's voice, the giggle almost whistling into a higher pitch. "Surely not after I've been thoroughly acquainted with your pretty little pussy?"
"Shut the fuck up," she snapped, latching onto the rage. But her face felt like it was burning, sweat on her brows. She could smell him through the mint, all brewed, delicious roasted tea, sweetened from her flavour.
A growl had her turn to look at pink cheeks. "I'll let them know you're fine." Dante barked out; lips pressed into a thin line. "You should rest." And he stormed out of the tent not before Rue caught sight of the raging hard-on that tented between his thighs. She watched him go then turned to glare at Seraphim, sanity finally entering her brain, remembering the truth of the situation.
That had not been just a Rampage.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone