DeepSea

No candlelight, no voices, no sign of life.

And under the moon, Akaza sat on that sill—a territorial tomcat, calling out for ‘his Lady’…waiting…

Waiting.

Until the sun shooed him away.

…

That dreadful morning, he returned to the Infinity Castle—parched.

Distraught.

In withdrawal from your essence.

“Master, I have an inquiry about Marechi blood.”

“Speak, then.”

“Will I die if I have too much and then get cut off from the supply?

Muzan looked up from his lab table at the young demon in familiar observance. Akaza’s skin was lackluster, eyes flighty and unfocused… His lips were chapped and constantly being licked by his accursed tongue…

“No, you won’t die,” Muzan said. “You will feel close to death, for a while, but the only things that can kill you remain the same. Sun, swords, and me.”

Akaza tried his damnest not to groan at that. He was sat in a cris-cross on the floor, casually watching Muzan toy with a microscope, and a glass plate with some dried flecks of your blood.

A mere few, stale cells, and Akaza could still smell that cherry wine.

Every time he stepped within ten meters of Muzan’s laboratory, his mouth watered. Not for any of the other hundreds of blood samples he had lined up. Just yours.

“Have you more questions? You’re becoming a nuisance...”

Akaza might as well seize the opportunity…

“I do have more questions, Master. Scientific questions. I am curious.”

“Go on.”

“Aside from their blood, Marechi are just like other humans, right?”

“Yes. No differences, aside from temperament, sometimes,” Muzan huffed to himself, remembering his own trysts with Marechis from long ago.

Akaza nodded. You weren’t some magical fairy from another realm, no matter how his taste buds might swear it to be true...

Another question: “And what happens if a demon and a human…breed?”

Muzan smirked. Young Akaza truly hadn’t lived, yet.

“As of now, nothing. Our cells are undead. Theirs are alive. Incompatible.” He crouched down, and with great care, set the plate under the microscope’s lenses. This specimen had your blood, and a drop of red spider lily nectar on it. He began his latest experiment with a keen, squinted eye.

Akaza was carefully low with his voice, trying not to disturb his master, “Did you ever…try…with a woman?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. And then I ate her.”

Akaza frowned. Of course his master killed that woman. One slip-up, and she was probably minced meat at his feet, just like everyone else who questioned him.

From whatever circumstance in his mortal life, Muzan couldn’t love.

But Akaza could.

At his master’s confirmation of the facts, he was…disappointed. He quite liked the thought of having a family with you. If only it were possible…

“You get one more question,” Muzan cut through his reverie.

It was now or never. Akaza asked his most embarrassing question, “Demon blood turns humans. What if they consume…other…demon fluids?”

At that, Muzan darted his electric red pupils up at Akaza, trying not to smile.

He took a peak into into Akaza’s thoughts and memories…finding the moments where this question first started brewing... On several occasions, your delicate tongue was so close to tasting Akaza’s seed, but you both were always so careful, so uncertain—even in the throes of ecstasy…

Tschh….

Virgins.

“Nothing of note,” he confirmed, almost like a blessing for Akaza to go forth and test that theory. “Now, you whining dog, I have a question for you: why are you bothering me, and not burying your nose in that bush you like?”

!

Akaza blinked and cast his eyes downward. He hated when the master crossed that boundary... “She wasn’t home last night...”

“She’s an Oiran, yes?”

“Yes.”

Muzan returned his gaze to the microscope lense on his table, twisting the mechanism, making it focus... “She was working. Likely securing a husband.”

Akaza suddenly remembered that a world existed outside of your boudoir. A big world—that could steal you away from him...

His undead heart started to race.

“She is in her prime,” Muzan went on, “If you want her this badly—turn her.”

Akaza perked up.

“That would actually be a good test…” Muzan pondered. “I have never managed to turn a Marechi. I have none in my ranks, so I don’t know what their demon forms can be like… Turn her, and bring her back to me for experimentation. That is—if you can convince her.”

Akaza wasn‘t sure if he could... Last night was the first night you’d ever refused him…

“And…” Muzan continued, “…bring me the heads of three Hashira—and you can keep her.”

!!

With worries wrangled into determination, Akaza bowed, then immediately left to spar with Douma to blow off some steam…and to prepare to run a gauntlet of Slayers, and you.

To Akaza's relief, the next night, your window was open. And he was on a mission.

You were, too. Eager, not talking much before ordering him to lay flat.

Soon enough, he satisfied you. And you, him.

“Mmmh…. Mmmmh, my Lady~!~!”

With a strained groan from his throat to your core, Akaza came all over your hand, and you chased your own pleasure, bucking your clit on his tongue until you reached your high.

After he licked your cream from between your thighs, you got off of him, and shoved him away from you before he could hold you.

Akaza was surprised that you were done. You normally let him take you to ecstasy at least four or five times before tapping out.…

This time, you gave him just one orgasm’s worth of cream, and literally cast him aside—nearly off the bed with his off-guard state!

As if he really were nothing but a toy…

!!

That hurt his ego almost as much as that little slap of yours did…

Something was bothering you… And you clearly didn’t want to cuddle or be close to him…

But Akaza wasn’t one to give up.

He tucked his cock back into his pants, watching you intently, “It’s not just about the sex to me, y’know…” he started, cautiously getting up after you as you left the bed to rummage through your dresser.

You huffed, didn’t say anything.

“I love talking with you. I love talking in general, but with you, time is suspended. You make me feel both young…and old…”

“…” Your fidgety hands kept moving, eager to find something to cover up…

“And even if you never say a word to me again, I could get by...just lookin’ at you.”

That—made your heart flutter...

He heard it, and smiled.

Now was the time to bring it up.

“Even on nights like tonight, when he you’re not bleeding, I still want you. All of you. I want to turn you, and make you mine.”

“Akaza, no.”

“My Lady…”

“No!”

“Please…”

“Stop it!” You pulled any random robe and slammed the dresser drawer shut. “I am getting married soon. I have several suitors who want to buy me out. I’m not having this discussion with you,” you snipped, hurriedly covering yourself with your blue satin robe.

“Those suitors don’t know you like I do.”

“Because I’ve been wasting my time with you. I have to get married to get out of here!”

“Then marry me.”

Your breath hitched. Your hands stopped moving. Your sleeves were on, but you were still naked under that open robe.

How you’ve longed for those words…

But not from a demon.

For a split, delirious second, you thought to say “yes”—until he continued on…

“Let me turn you. You’d have whatever you wanted with me.”

Whatever you wanted—except humanity…

You started to turn away from him, stomping your foot. “I can not be a demon bride!!”

Akaza dropped to his knees, reaching for your naked form like a lifeline. “Please, Princess, you would make the most beautiful demon…”

“Don’t…” Your toes dug into the rug. Your hands itched to hold him close. But you were rigid.

“…And I could worship you, every night…” His big hands curled around your hips as he shuffled closer to you, “…And every day…”

!

He kissed your stomach heatedly, lovingly, rambling in-between each smooch, “We could go forever…and do whatever we wanted… I could shove my tongue so far inside you, it would make your stomach poke out…” he jested, dipping his tongue playfully into your belly button, and kissing you there again…

You squirmed in his hold and bit your lip, cheeks flushed…overwhelmed…

He rambled, reaching for your left hand, holding it to his forehead, confessing, “One night without you might as well have been death to me…”

Akaza had your chest rising and falling like leaves in a windstorm. You weren’t thinking straight anymore… “Wh-What about y-your… your master? You have a master who controls you and threatens you…”

“He wants to meet you, my Lady,” Akaza gazed up at you, tenderly rubbing your hand, “Join us, and you will be well-cared for...”

“This is insane. You are insane.”

You kept shaking your head ‘no’, and Akaza changed tactics…

“Am I insane? Or do I just want you?”

“Akaza…”

“I could just…have you like this… Watch you ripen with time, taste you at every age…” he whispered, reaching to hike your thigh on his shoulder, his wet tongue seeking another taste of you, “…Like a fine wine…”

!!

You hated that.

There was nothing more that you despised than reminders of time passing…

…Reminders of your own aging…

“Although I’d miss you,” he kissed the soft fat of your thigh, rubbing his nose along your heated femoral artery... “I’ll go on an endless rampage…whenever you die…”

And a reminder of your mortality—with that, he started to scare you…

Misreading your racing thoughts and heart as consideration for his words…Akaza kept pouring sugar into your wound, “I’d rather you be a demon with me…”

A kiss.

“We’d never have to stop…”

Another one…

“Forever, my Lady…I’d love you…”

—!

You snapped.

“No!!! This was the last time, Akaza.” You pushed his hands away from your hips, marched to your window, and shoved it open, “Get out!!!”

…

He might have seduced you into…whatever this had been, but he wouldn’t be taking your life from you. Not after you worked this hard for this long, clawing your way up…

Your resolve was more about your spite toward society than anything else.

You had your own mission, as far as you were concerned. All of this, like all things—was temporary. The sooner you accepted reality, the sooner you could make your dreams come true—and get out of here.

And so, you kicked the demon Akaza out of the little love-nest he had made with you inside your boudoir.

.

.

.

Akaza wasn’t discouraged. He was motivated. He could tell by the aroma of your pheromones that you wanted him, still.

So, for the next month, while you spent your nights pining for the affections of wealthy monarchs, Akaza routinely left lavish gifts and waited outside of your closed window every night. Waiting for a sign, that you were still open for him.

If by midnight you weren’t there, he’d leave—to hunt Hashira until dawn…

…

Muzan wanted three.

Akaza would surpass that quota within the month.

It was in Akaza’s twentieth year as a demon, when he’d set the record for the most Hashira slain on one spree. It was a bloodbath.

He unleashed his full wrath on them, channeling all of his frustrations over you—into his fists. He forewent testing their prowess, and instead wore them down, not holding back. He'd still offer them eternity, but not with a smile or smirk.

He had become hollow, without you.

The Slayer Corps were soon in full retreat, scrambling to recruit more people after the tattooed menace decimated their ranks.

…

And as their heads rolled and rolled…up to those infamous shined shoes…young Akaza was given more time by his master to pine after you, and secure your loyalty.

…

Every night, your baby stared up at your tower…longing, waiting for that fateful sign…

…And that sign would come, one month and three days after he last saw you. Just before he left at midnight, you opened the window.

The light was…dimmer than it used to be…

But he still found his way to your sill, like a moth to a lit match.

.

.

.

Akaza was now knelt before you, gazing up at you in the glow of your waning candles.

You had your foot on his face, squishing your pedicured toes against his nose.

And you looked so goddess-like, in your long, deep pink satin night robe… He remembers swiping this one for you awhile ago, before your seventh night together, from an undeserving monarch’s concubine…

He was smiling like an idiot, over the moon to finally be worshiping at your altar again…after so long.…

Akaza was eager, hands itching to touch you, to massage up your calf and kiss along your ankle…

To break this tension with his voice tumbling from your lips...

But you told him not to talk or touch—until you gave the word.

…

Today—wrecked you.

Your feet hurt, your hips hurt, your tits hurt—your uterus was trying to kill you!!

And everyone had gotten on your last.

Fucking.

Nerve.

How dare that man lead you on for weeks—nearly months!! Swearing to you the moon and stars, only to debase you with such a meager final offer… Toying with your affections and emotions, dangling jewels in front of your face, promises of pagodas and horse-drawn carts…

Promises of complete and total devotion…

…Only for you to be presented with a contract for becoming ~one in a match set~ of concubines, belonging to a greedy, neglectful statesman…

The third instance of fraudulence this year had you splashing your wine in his wrinkly face.

And to top it off, the commotion you caused had your attendants so stupidly reminding you: you weren’t getting any younger…

You slapped all of them, one after the other, before dismissing them, for good.

Except for Miko, the one with sense to shut up.

Miko had helped you to your suite, and left you in your stupor for the night, as you wished.

…

To keep from crying about it all, you needed to channel your emotions…

And so, you finally opened your window again, to the one…who had already pledged his fealty, and always let you do as you please...

…

“Baby…be good for me tonight, will you?” You pushed Akaza’s forehead back a little, then grabbed his hair with your toes and pulled him back.

His eyes were bugging out at the sight of your exposed thigh, slipping out from your robe. He could smell you…he was so…thirsty… “Yes, Princess, anything you want…”

Magic words.

You released his hair from your toes and put them under his chin, raising his gaze to your face.

“Watch.”

!!

Oh, he was watching…

He straightened to a proper kneel and settled his hands on his thighs. You caressed Akaza’s jawline and chin with your big toe, then tapped his nose with it before backing away.

His cock twitched. He finally exhaled.

That hit like a punch to the face.

…

You teased him with a slowwwww strip, and he waited…and waited…and waited, so patiently…

For you to let him touch…

…And taste…

...

And he did, for a little while. Picking up where he left off, your thigh on his shoulder, his nose in your bush… His tongue at your clit… He had you squirming soon enough——but… Something was wrong.

You couldn’t finish.

The reflection of this steamy scene in the mirror distracted you.

The reality of what was in the mirror—distracted you.

You tapped his shoulder. “Akaza—stop…”

!

Instantly he let you go, and licked his lips clean, gazing up at you and awaiting instruction…still buzzing…

In between Akaza and your vanity, you plopped down onto the floor, palming your face, testing the elasticity of your skin…

You saw your demon lover sat behind you, twenty years your mental senior, but physically frozen in time as a few years your junior…

And you saw yourself, prompting wrinkles with your ugly wincing.

“Am I… Am I becoming too old?” Your brow trembled as you fought the tears away.

!

“No, Princess. You’re perfect,” Akaza said, as if it were the law of the land.

“Perfect…” you laughed bitterly. “Perfection would have had a marriage by now… Maybe they’re right…”

“Who?”

“Everyone… They say my beauty won’t last forever, and that my window of opportunity is closing…”

“Your window…”

Akaza understood, then. Worries of mortality.

“That’s nonsense.”

“What?” You glared at him through the mirror.

“I said, it’s nonsense, my Lady. Let me show you.” Akaza stood up, swiftly shrugging his vest from his shoulders. Then, he slid his pants off in one swoop. Unphased by his own nudity, he sat on your silken pink sheets with open arms.

You hesitated…

He covered his steely length with a layer of the silk, then beckoned you to come sit. “Let me show you how perfect you are.”

“I’ll get blood on the sheets…”

“I’ll get you more sheets. Come here.”

Hand outstretched, tattooed fingers curling ever so enticingly...

Akaza waited for you again. Resolute.

…

You took a breath, and took his hand.

As smooth as the silk barrier between your heat and his, he sat you on his lap, pulling you close and settling your hips right over his thighs...on his cock...

He helped you take your hair down the rest of the way. He was slow, mindful of the deadly points of your hair pins. He kissed along your neck and shoulder, setting your pins down on your nightstand and promptly returning his hands to your waist.

“Imperfection—where?” Feather-light with his touches on you, Akaza took his time, as if he hadn't just been tearing tendon from bone for an endless month.

“Look at you… Look at this body…”

Over your hips, around to the front of your tummy, up to the swell of your tits... Back down to your hips... He grazed his fingers, making you lean into his touch...

Making you move...

He guided you to grind on him and use his silk-covered length as your toy, “Take what you want, Princess… I got you…” A sturdy foundation for you, Akaza sat still and flexed his thighs, letting you ride the outside of his cock at your leisure...

You held his shoulders, flushing at how intently his eyes lingered on different parts of you. Like he wanted more than you'd ever given him.

"Beautiful, my Lady..." his tone tender, he sighed and breathed heavily as he watched you take control again.

He still wanted more.

“Akaza…” You gave him more, hugging him tightly as you rode his lap.

He could feel your nipples hardening, your heart rattling… Every time he praised you, you gushed on him a little more…

“Fuck…Fuck…” Akaza praised your name in a string of curses as you kept going~! His hands were still light on you, not daring to disrupt whatever pattern you needed.

“Mmmh~! Oh~!”

And you made it there, but…

It was frustrating... Emotionally exhausted, with still too much in your head—you couldn't cum hard enough.

And Akaza was harder than ever, drooling and slobbering all over your tits... "Oh, ffffuck," he whined, his hips shifting and bucking you upward, "Please..."

His reaction started to fluster you...

You slowed down... "A-Akaza..."

"I'm sorry, Princess... I need…” He looked into your eyes, pleading, ”Can you keep going?"

You were always on top. That was the rule. It kept you in control, and it was over when you said it was over. You could end it all right now.

If you wanted to.

"Yes, I'm just... I'm tired..."

“Let me do it."

!

Akaza puffed his chest out at you, holding you tighter...speaking softer... "Let me show you, how I love you, so…”

...

Sprawled out on your bed, you abandoned your royal rules, and let Akaza on top of you for the first time since your first night together.

He earned your trust, made you soft for him, and now he'd show you just how good you have it with him. The sight of you under him almost had him painting his own hand white... But he held it together for you. "If you want me to stop, just say the word. I am still bound by your law, princess."

You nodded, taking a shaky breath.

He situated the silk sheet over your apex, pressing his cock into you through the thin, damp barrier...

And you felt him...inch...by inch...by inch...

Palms at either side of your head, Akaza was careful not to tug at your hair as he started to grind against you... Going slow, but applying pressure...

He was heavy, his density surely altered due to his demonic constitution. Through that silk, you felt all of him. Every ridge, every pulsating vein, the heat of his foreskin shifting against your clit...

As you started to sigh, Akaza relaxed. "Am I to your liking, my Lady?"

"Yes, Akaza... You feel good..."

At your confirmation, he lowered his weight onto you fully, caging you snugly in his arms, kissing you... "You look so gorgeous like this... Under me..."

Another kiss...

"How lucky I am, to be the one to see you tonight..."

Gods, finally some good fucking treatment... You sighed, "Baby..."

And you brought out his brilliant, fanged smile… "I missed bein' your baby... Say it again..."

"Baby, don't stop..."

Your crooning of 'baby' was soon reduced to babbling as he started pumping his length on you with more earnest. Akaza wrapped your legs around him, keeping his cock firmly against your clit, squishing his balls against the silk up on your dribbling hole...

He filled the air with his own heated voice, making you laugh on his lips, asking you genuine questions while he rocked his hips against yours...

~ "Did you like the gifts I left for you last time? Were they the right shade of pink?" ~

~ "What about the ring? Did you like that, too?" ~

~ "You should marry me, my Lady..." ~

~ "If you don't like that ring, I'll find one you like—“

"Akaza~!"

"I'll swim the ocean and back in a single night if that's what it takes to find a diamond for you..."

"Fuck~!"

"Cum for me, princess..."

Through pupils blown past recognition of Muzan's permanent numbers, Akaza watched you. Your soft legs tightly clamped against his torso, trembling as you used his body to get off.

You were his baby, too, making a mess of your silly silk sheets. You never came that hard from being on top. His weight and rhythm gave you an edge that had your body humming for more. You needed him just as much as he needed you.

"Hell, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, baby... I meant everything I said... I wanna take care of you..." He kissed you gently, going for your cheeks and sweaty neck when you needed more air.

Fuck—he loved you so much. He'd never let you go, if you agreed to dying in his arms, whether now or later...

Quietly on your skin, he promised, "Whatever happened today--whoever made you upset, they're dirt."

You started sniffling, head reeling from it all...

"A-Akaza..."

He pushed up, holding your gaze, still hot... "I'll kill them, if you want."

Whatever it was—he’d do it for you.

He’d do anything for you.

You saw it in his eyes, bound by things beyond your comprehension.

And you broke.

"I want..."

Akaza awaited your decree. Steady and still on top of you, despite his cock still twitching against the wet spot on your sheet.

"You, Akaza..."

!

"You mean--"

"Yes, Akaza, please..." you tugged at the silken barrier, the last thing keeping you apart--aside from Akaza's hesitation...

"Are you sure?" he asked, starting to let go of you as if that's what you told him to do.

"Please... Don't make me beg..."

Akaza sharply inhaled and planked over you as his length dropped down and tapped at your bare stomach. "M-My Lady, I thought you wanted to marry first..."

"I do."

You kissed him.

!!!!!!!!!!

You took charge, lined him up, and at your eager, undulating hips, Akaza sank into you…

Into your heat, your embrace…

…!

“Oh~!”

“Are you okay?” Akaza grunted at your tight squeeze, sensing how much of a stretch he was for you. He thumbed a tear away from your eye and held himself up over you, watching, waiting…

“Move, Akaza…”

He listened. He kept listening. He read your body, gave it to you slow, soft…

He watched.

At your switch from wincing to moaning, he started plunging into you deeper, faster…

You were enjoying it, but your eyes were more and more wet…

“Why are you crying, Princess? Does it still hurt?”

You shook your head. “Just…”

“Hmm?”

“Keep talking…”

!

“Keep talking t’ m-me…” you repeated, eyes closed, focused on the feeling of him as the candles grew dimmer.

Akaza chuckled, mumbling in your ear and kissing along the shell of it, “You want me to talk now? Funny, usually you tell me to shut up…”

“Akaza…”

“And now my Lady wants me to talk to her…” he slithered his wiggling tongue into your ear hole, then playfully nipped at your ear lobe, making your chest heave…

“Please…”

“After a month of shutting me out… Fuck, Princess…”

Akaza granted your wish, talking in your ear while he plowed you open… Telling you every thought that came to mind…

~ “Do you know how much I missed you?” ~

~ “You don’t, do you?” ~

~ “I waited for you every single night. I lied to myself, saying I would have been satisfied with a simple kiss to your toe, but no… I need you like this…” ~

~ “Wet…open…as desperate for me as I am for you…” ~

Akaza kept stretching your little cunt out, voice smooth and low in your ear, kissing your cheek and groaning at your nails digging into his back…

“Akaza, faster~!”

“Faster?” he laughed a little, teasingly meeting your heated gaze, “My Lady…I want to savor this… Who knows how long you’ll banish me for again…”

**SMACK!**

“I said faster!”

!

“You want it? You got it, Princess…”

Your little palm on his cheek was absolute hell, triggering that eagerness in him…

“You got it…” he grunted in your ear, snapping his hips faster, “…Whatever you want, baby… You got it…”

“Ah~! Akaza~!~! Yyyes!!”

You came hard on him, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping your heart pumping blood.

His pace unceasing, he talked you through that toe-curling orgasm, telling you everything you wanted to hear… “I’ll get it for you, gorgeous, whatever it is…”

He loved watching you, how you opened for him…succumbed to him…

He understood it now. Akaza finally understood the rush of wanting to breed. His words turned into fantasies in your ear, fueling that heat in both your stomachs… “In another life, I’m getting you pregnant… Three, four… No, five times…”

You laughed as you came down from that peak, the deep smoke in his voice sending a chill up your spine. “Gods… Akaza… I love you so much… I wish you could… I wish you were human…”

“If I were human, I’d get tired… I don’t ever wanna get tired… Wanna be ready whenever my Lady needs me…” He tossed one of your legs into his shoulder, kissing your ankle tenderly…

“Wanna go forever with you…” he whispered on your skin, tilting his hips up and down against your hot core with leisure, as if you both had all the time in the world…

“Don’t stop, Akaza…” you mumbled with a shaking head on your pillow, still reeling from that pleasure, still craving more…

Akaza kept his pace inside you steady, filling the room with sounds of skin on skin, blood on slick… The gentle squeaking of your futon under the weight of his affections for you…

“You’re gonna get tired soon, little human,” Akaza mused, pushing some of your hair from your face, “…But you can always choose to stay up with me…”

“Fuck, Akaza…”

“Just say it, and you’re mine, forever…”

You cried again.

By sunrise, it was settled.

You wrote a note for Miko, explaining as best as you could that she would be the only one caring for you going forward, and in return, you'd give her whatever she wanted for fetching you a stock of bloody rags, and keeping your secrets...

And Miko wrote a note back, trusting you, agreeing.

She always was the smartest of the bunch.

…

By dawn, Akaza had to tear himself from you to make it to safety in time.

He promised to be at your window the second the sun went down.

And as always, he delivered on that promise.

You both spent the next two moons entangled, rings on your fingers, delusions on your lips, not a care in the world.

Akaza enjoyed you as you were, patient and kind and oh so in love with you.

Your ruby elixir kept him drunk.

His affection kept you happy.

…

His lips kept your toes warm.

…

Forevermore—you decided—was what this was. What this would be.

…

On the night of a new moon, Akaza brought you a kimono you’d die for, and watched as you dolled yourself up. You went slowly, adorning yourself with your balms and oils and powders…

He lay on the bed and waited for his Lady, patiently… Respectfully observing an artist and muse at work… His beautiful Oiran, a true princess… He’ll never forget your coy smile at him in the mirror…

And when you deemed yourself ready, he pulled you into his lap…

With his fangs, he pricked some blood from his thumbs, slid them into your mouth…

!

You sucked on them, surprised at how good it tasted~!

He smiled, then chided, “Not too much… If you have too much, you’ll be made a fighter...and my Lady was made—for loving.”

With a kiss on your bloody lips, the demon Akaza stole your last living breath.

…

There were hours of thrashing.

..

Then, minutes of dying.

.

And seconds of resurrecting…

!

…All in Akaza's caring arms...

…!

Lungs aching with the new promise of eternal breath, you sat at your vanity, fully transformed…and finally got a glimpse of what Akaza was swooning at.

Your pupils—they were pink.

Just like his hair.

He hugged you from behind, settling his chin on your shoulder, and whispered into your ear...

“...It's a nice color on you.”

~

His journal lies abandoned on the desk, pages trembling in the draft like frail, papery lungs endeavor one last, desperate gasp, fluttering against the uneven pull of the wind, but your gaze never strays from him. Instead, it is riveted, ensnared by the claim of Isaac’s hands pressing into the hollow of your back. His fingers trace the arch of your spine with inexorable intent, mapping each subtle ridge, each small shiver, each involuntary flex of muscle, as though memorizing you for the next hour, the next day, the next eternity. The warmth radiating from him presses into you with the same leverage he exerts over his machines, a magnetic pull impossible to ignore, effectively suturing your body to his.

“Couldn’t wait?” His voice winds through you with conspiratorial relish and catches in your chest.

You can’t bring yourself to answer; thought has absconded entirely, dissolved into the air like ether. Every sense is drowned by him, by the heat of his chest pressing against yours, by the relentless gravitation of his body pinning you in place, by the slow, inexorable drag of his length claiming every parameter of your awareness. The stretch feels so good — a wet, prurient absence you hadn’t known was festering inside you, gaping and hungry, always meant to be stitched closed by Isaac alone, by this exact thickness prying you open inch by devastating inch. 

The low, reverberating timbre of his groan echoes through the hollows of your spine like a summons. Your knees slacken; your breath fractures into ribbons.

You had promised stillness, yet your flesh delates you, slick, needy, pulsating helplessly in waves of longing. It is treachery of the deepest, most delicious kind: your body professing what your voice can’t form. Every contraction of your cunt is a signal he receives in full, and he groans again: lower, rougher, a subterranean roll that seems to emanate somewhere just under your sternum, vibrating through you.

“You think I wouldn’t notice?” he murmurs, voice worn. “Don’t think you can hide anything from me. I feel everything you’re doing. Every tremor, every flutter… you’re practically giving yourself away.”

A slight shift, a feigned adjustment, accomplishes nothing. Your walls cling, pulse, drip slick heat across him, each flutter a secret, shameless surrender. The drag of him inside you is exquisite in its cruelty, unbearable and necessary at once. Your thighs tremble, and your soaked body wrings him higher. When he moans, it scrapes across the nape of your neck like a hot, serrated whisper, scattering your composure.

Isaac’s cock is heavy inside you, slender, yet pulsing with a slow, insistent insistence that makes your breath hitch. The vein runs like a heated cord beneath your slick walls, each subtle throb a private, intimate drumbeat, pressing into you with a quiet, relentless claim. The head is swollen just enough, a gentle, rounded crown that fits against your deepest heat, pressing without motion, teasing without mercy. Wetness slicks over you both: yours clinging to him, drenching him, glistening along the tender curve where he meets you, and the heat radiates from his body. 

You concentrate on the vein pulsing insistently against your velvet-soft walls, swollen and straining as if it beats in time with your own fluttering heart. Warmth floods you from the base to the tip, a deep, unrelenting pressure that makes your slickness gleam and pool, dripping with need around him, soaking the groomed hair at the base. 

“Fuck… how do you always feel so good?” you gasp, voice trembling, chest heaving. “Could cum just like this.”

“You know I’ve ditched an hour of work already?” His voice is low, rough, the kind of coarse sound that makes your pulse stutter. He leans closer, pressing you against him. The scent of him fills your senses, drowning every rational thought.

“Show me,” he rasps, the word a sonorous edict, thick with amusement and the tremulous undertow of anticipation. His lithe fingers trail from the hollow of your sacral curve, following each subtle undulation, memorizing your flesh. The press of him is relentless, as if your bodies were two pendula caught in perfect, suspended resonance.

“Don’t think I won’t make you work for it,” he murmurs. You can feel the weight of him, the way he relishes your helpless surrender, and it drives your cunt slick with need. Every inch of him pressed against you, the stillness forced upon your hips, the gentle drag of his cock nestled warm and pulsing inside.

And you do. Not with motion, not with will, but with every helpless flutter, every squeeze and pulse of your soaked, needy body. Your walls cling, tighten, wrap him, tremble around him as if your body has taken the lead. Thighs quiver, and every shiver sends slick heat over him, drawing low, guttural groans from his throat.

Still, he refuses to move, but he tilts, a minute, devastating calibration that buries him deeper, the kind of shift that makes your vision static out at the edges. Fingers dig into your back, thumbs brushing over your lower belly, grounding you while your trembling, dripping body coaxes him closer to the edge.

Your chest heaves, voice breaking in gasps and moans. The wet press of your body, the desperate, fluttering clench, the way your slick, shivering walls betray every promise of stillness, it is too much. Every sound, every subtle pulse, every involuntary squeeze propels you higher, until the world narrows to slick heat, trembling bodies, and the delicious torment of being utterly undone while remaining frozen in place.

“Isaac… fuck… you feel so—”

“Feel so…?” His voice is low, teasing, permeating the air like a command and a caress at once.

You moan, hips pressing against him in reflex, the brief pressure feels intoxicating, your eyes rolling but he holds you immobile, unyielding. “Ah, ah,” Isaac murmurs, voice imbued with amused authority. “Remember what you said — you promised.”

Every helpless press of your body against his, every pulse and flutter, is amplified by the restraint. You are trapped, suspended between desire and denial, and the tension coils tighter with each heartbeat, each breath. Your cunt helplessly spasms, gushing around the length of him until the curls around his base lie matted and shining. His jaw clenches so hard the muscle leaps, the sound escaping his throat closer to a wounded growl than breath, cock twitching inside of you.

“Feel so full. Wanna stay like this forever.”

Heat sluices over his features in a molten, a spasm of want that leaks through the fracture in his composed exterior, mouth dropping open slightly, eyebrows lifting. For a heartbeat you believe his lips tremble, stirred by some clandestine fracture of control he can’t quite smother.