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Y/N sat poised, strange as ever for a young lady as beautiful as she, over a lifeless corpse as nimble hands worked away at closing up an autopsy incision. The dim candlelight flickered and glimmered against the stitches she threw. A soft tune echoed throughout the empty room, a vibrating melody originating from her throat and barely parted lips. Y/n jolted lightly at hearing her tune become accompanied by the joining of harmony to her melody. She dropped her threaded needle onto the table next to the dead body, head whipping around to see Grell sauntering in from the darkness. A relieved yet frustrated sigh puffed from Y/n as her loose pieces of hair settled back to frame her face from her abrupt movement. "You minx, you know good and well it isn't safe for you to be lurking around the streets at this hour! Every policeman in London is on the hunt for you!" The redhead simply giggled and set down their bloodied chainsaw as gently as one could on the floor, eyes never leaving the apprentice. "Now now, pet... don't you worry about me. I'm as elusive as ever. I can take care of myself." Bloodshot eyes scanned over the body on the table beside them, a gloved digit slowly gliding on the taught stitching. "I have to say I'm impressed, I don't know how much of this is the Undertaker's good teachings or if you're just a prodigy. Very well done, love."

Y/n's brows furrowed, a flush of color touching her otherwise ghostly cheeks—not from Grell’s compliment, but from the heat that always came with their presence, like standing too close to a bonfire. Dangerous, wild, and mesmerizing. She turned her gaze back to the corpse, fingers fussing with the edge of the linen drape as if needing something to tether her.

"You're not supposed to be here, Grell," she said, softer now, a twinge of something unspoken trailing behind her words like the tail of smoke.

"But I am," Grell purred, moving closer with the feline grace of someone who knew every step of this dance before the music even began. "And isn’t that the fun of it, darling? That I come anyway."

They were beside her now, close enough that the scent of blood and roses tangled between them. Grell’s gloved hand drifted up, almost lovingly, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Y/n’s ear. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Not fully.

"You've got the touch of death about you," Grell whispered, voice a silken thread wound with menace and adoration. "It sings to me, sweetling. Just like you do."

Y/n turned slowly to meet their gaze, the candlelight catching the edge of her eyes—amber-tinted and far older than she should be. "You're always playing some game," she said flatly. "What happens when you get bored of chasing me, Grell?"

A hush fell between them, heavy and intimate, broken only by the crackle of wax melting. Grell’s smile faded into something more serious, more human—and somehow, more terrifying.

"Then I’ll make you mine before I have the chance to get bored."

There was no teasing lilt in that. No joke. Just that promise again—the kind carved into bone, not spoken into air.

For a long moment, Harlow didn’t respond. But her eyes didn’t leave Grell’s. And Grell didn’t blink.

Then, slowly, Harlow reached across the table, picked up the fallen needle, and resumed her stitching. "The dead are easier to deal with," she murmured. "At least they stay where I put them."

Grell leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear, voice a shiver. "Ah, but I’m so much more fun, aren’t I?"

The candle sputtered as if in agreement, and outside, the wind carried the soft sound of distant church bells—midnight. The hour of the in-between.

And so the dance began again.

The final stitch slipped through the flesh with a whisper, and Harlow knotted it off with practiced precision, but her fingers trembled—just a little. Enough that Grell noticed. Of course they did. They noticed everything about her.

“Darling,” Grell crooned, the word curling like silk around a blade. “You're shaking.”

"I'm cold," Y/n lied, threading her needle back into its pin cushion. But the morgue was warm. Too warm, even. The heat came from Grell, standing so close now that their breath stirred the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

Grell didn’t call her out. Didn’t press. Instead, they reached behind her, fingers grazing her spine as they retrieved the linen sheet to cover the corpse. Slow, intentional. A caress disguised as a mundane gesture.

Y/n held still, breath caught between her ribs like a secret.

“You’re not afraid of the dead,” Grell murmured, voice low, lips brushing her hair. “But you’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

She turned then, sharply, like a cornered animal—but Grell was already there, face inches from hers, eyes bright and burning with the kind of hunger that had nothing to do with flesh and everything to do with possession.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered.

"No?"

A gloved hand rose to cup her cheek. Cool leather against warm skin. Y/n didn’t flinch this time. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned in, infinitesimally. And that was all the invitation Grell needed.

Their kiss wasn’t soft. It was desperate. Starved. Teeth clashed and lips bruised as Grell’s arms slid around her waist, pulling her flush against them. Harlow gasped into their mouth, hands clutching at the front of their coat as if anchoring herself to something real—something tangible in a life surrounded by death.

Grell tasted like wine and copper and rain. Like danger and desire and things she’d sworn she didn’t need.

The kiss broke only when Grell pulled back to breathe, forehead resting against hers, eyes searching. Searching for what, Harlow didn’t know—but she let them look. Let them see.

“You’re maddening,” she breathed.

“And you’re exquisite,” Grell replied, thumbs brushing along her jaw, reverent now, almost tender. “All pale silk and hidden knives. No wonder I’m obsessed.”

Y/n’s lashes fluttered, her voice barely audible. “This is a bad idea.”

Grell laughed softly, kissing the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then the delicate curve of her jaw. “Darling, all the best ideas are.”

And then they were kissing again, slower this time—more intimate. Less about conquest, more about communion. Grell's hands moved like water, slipping under the hem of her blouse to trace the warm curve of her waist.

For once, Y/n didn’t resist. She let herself feel. Let herself want.

Because in the quiet dark of the morgue, beneath the ever-watching eyes of the dead, she could admit it—if only to herself.

She wanted Grell.

God help her.

She wanted them.

The air in the morgue had thickened, heavy with something no embalming fluid could mask. Something alive. Grell's lips moved down Y/n's throat, pressing reverent kisses against skin that tasted of salt and secrecy. Their hands gripped her waist firmly now, possessively, like they might melt through her if they didn’t hold tight enough.

Y/n’s breath trembled as she tilted her head back, exposing the slender column of her neck. It was an unspoken offering—one she never would’ve made by daylight. But this was midnight, and Grell moved like sin incarnate, pulling every buried want from her chest like threads unraveling from a too-tight corset.

“You’re playing with fire,” Harlow whispered, her voice catching on a moan as Grell’s teeth grazed the hollow of her throat.

“Darling,” Grell rasped against her skin, “I am the fire.”

Their mouth met hers again with bruising hunger, and this time there was no hesitation in Y/n’s kiss—only raw, unfiltered need. Her hands tugged at the lapels of Grell’s coat, dragging them closer, gasping softly as their hips aligned, a spark shooting through her that she didn’t even try to contain.

Grell growled low in their throat, delighted and feral, their gloved hands sweeping down Y/n’s back before slipping beneath her thighs to lift her onto the free metal table—where hours ago, a corpse had lain. Now, it was Y/n sprawled across the cold slab, her skirt hitched up, her legs wrapping instinctively around Grell’s waist, pulling them into her heat.

The kiss broke, both of them panting, eyes locked in something far more intimate than lust. Something aching. Desperate. Starved.

"You feel it too," Grell murmured, fingertips tracing reverent patterns across her stockinged thigh. “Tell me you do. Say it.”

Y/n’s heart was a drum in her chest, loud and unrelenting. And still, her voice came out soft. Fragile. True.

“I feel everything.”

Grell moaned like the words had shattered them. “God, I could ruin you,” they breathed, forehead pressed against hers again. “I want to. Slowly. Completely. Sweetheart, let me drown in you.”

“You already are,” she whispered, and then her mouth was on theirs again, greedy and wild, hands in their hair, body arched beneath them.

Grell’s glove slipped off, one by one, the sound of leather falling to the floor like a declaration. Bare hands now, skin on skin, exploring the curve of her waist, the swell of her breast through too-thin fabric, the places where warmth gathered and begged to be claimed.

Clothing shifted, layers undone but not removed—caught in the urgency of the moment, tangled like their breath. The morgue was filled with the soft gasp of fabric sliding against skin, the low, needy sounds Grell coaxed from her like secrets only they were allowed to know.

And then—stillness.

A pause so thick it hurt.

Because Grell looked down at her, hair like fire fanned over her chest, their breathing ragged and hands trembling.

“You undo me,” they said, voice cracking. “And I don’t want to stop.”

Y/n reached up, cupping their face, thumbs brushing over high cheekbones with a gentleness she didn’t know she had left.

“Then don’t.”

And in that moment—beneath flickering candlelight, surrounded by death and soaked in longing—they didn’t.

They fell.

Together.

Time splintered.

There was no morgue. No city. No midnight bells. Just breath and heat and skin—just the two of them in a world collapsing inward.

Grell’s mouth was everywhere—trailing fire down Y/n’s throat, across her collarbone, lower still. They peeled her open with a reverence so fierce it was almost cruel, like they were memorizing the shape of her with their lips and tongue and trembling fingers. Every sigh she gave them was earned. Every whimper, worshipped.

Y/n was pliant beneath them now, head thrown back, golden hair spilling over the cold metal like moonlight on marble. Her thighs trembled around Grell’s hips, holding them close, anchoring them in the storm they were both losing themselves to.

“Look at you,” Grell whispered, voice raw with awe and hunger. “So beautiful like this—so undone. For me.”

Y/n’s hands fumbled at the buttons of Grell’s vest, impatient, desperate to touch skin instead of silk. Her voice came out hoarse, choked with want. “I need—Grell—please—”

That word. Please. It broke something inside Grell, and they crashed back into her with a growl, their lips claiming hers with bruising desperation. There was no pretense now—no teasing, no chase. Only the thrum of need that roared between their bodies like a living thing.

Clothes fell away in frantic, half-finished gestures—tugged, torn, shoved aside. The chill of the morgue faded beneath the heat of skin against skin, breath mingling, sweat beading between them. Grell’s hands were everywhere, tracing her ribs, her stomach, the curve of her thighs, like she was a map and they were lost and loving it.

Y/n arched into them, nails dragging down Grell’s back, gasping as they moved against her. No more hesitation. No more space. Their bodies fit together like a lock and key, grinding, writhing, lost in the friction and rhythm and the desperate need to be closer, to devour. Grell let his busy fingers find better work with her entrance, first making Harlow coat his fingers with her saliva by shoving them gently into her mouth and allowing her wet muscle to dance around his digits before removing them slowly and pushing his way inside her.

“Say my name,” Grell gasped into her ear, thrusting into her with a force that rattled the table beneath them. “Say it, lovely. Scream it.”

“Grell—” she moaned, breathless, broken, wrecked in the most perfect way. Her nails bit into their shoulder, her mouth trembling against theirs. “God, I—Grell—yes—”

"Good girl...so well-behaved for me." A wave of fever came over them, watching intently as she fell apart around their fingers and feeling the grip of her pleasure practically swallowing them up. A knot began to coil in them - a desire building quickly and burning them alive. Grell couldn't take it anymore, and before Y/n could reach bliss, the source of pleasure was torn away. "What? H-Hey! Grell, that's not fair, I-"

"Ah ah, my sweet. Watch your tongue," Swiftly, Grell replaced their fingers with something harder, thicker, and throbbing in agony for her warmth. "Don't say something you'll regret~" Y/n sighed softly as Grell slid themselves inside her, yet again being swallowed in.

And Grell, all fire and blood and want, fell into her with abandon—moaning her name like a prayer, like a curse, like it would save them.

They moved together with a passion so violent it bordered on sacred, hips meeting in a rhythm that blurred the line between pain and pleasure. The sound of it echoed off the walls in a passionate yet violent manner—skin on skin, the creak of the table, the symphony of their release building to a crescendo that neither could hold back.

When it came, it ripped through them both like lightning—raw, burning, divine.

Y/n cried out, back arching, nails dragging fire down Grell’s spine as she shattered in their arms.

Grell followed a breath later, a guttural moan pulled from the depths of their chest as they poured every ounce of longing into her, every dark and beautiful thing they’d never dared to speak aloud.

And then—silence.

Just the sound of their breathing, ragged and uneven, the soft, shaking aftermath of something so consuming it left the world quiet in its wake.

Grell rested their forehead against hers, eyes closed, still inside her, still wrapped in the heat of what they'd just become.

“Mine,” they whispered.

Y/n didn’t respond—not with words. But the way she held them, arms wrapped tight, lips brushing the corner of their mouth, said it all.

Another annoyed growl ripped from his lips as he blew his own cover. "Y/n!!" He called out with a sneer, setting the glass vials down and pinching the bridge of his nose. Long legs carried the beautiful assistant into view, stopping within the door frame of the lab, knowing better than to approach Caesar without being directed to do so. "Yes sir, you called?"

"I need a drink." He removed his hand from massaging his nerve, placing both of his large hands flat on the table and peering over his massive shoulder at the striking young blonde. "You know my usual."

She nodded in response, "Right away, sir."

Caesar's eyes followed the silky trail of glass-smooth skin up those long legs, watching as they pivoted and exited the room. After a moment of being lost in his own inappropriate thoughts, he shook his head, as if to clear it, and continued back at his work. Instead of grabbing for the he vials he was originally tampering with, he walked over to his chalkboard, beginning to work chemical equations at lightning speed. Harlow returned, mixed alcoholic beverage in hand, kidding now she could approach her boss. Before she could even call attention to herself, he held out his hand for the drink, and she placed it obediently in his hand, then turned to leave. She only made it a few steps away before his voice came out in a low tone, "I need your eyes, Y/n." It was rare that Caesar would cave for help, but if they're eye anyone he'd admit defeat to, it was his assistant, in the privacy of his science lab - his sanctuary - his safe place.

With a petite grin, she spun on her heel and approached the drawing board, stopping at his side. "What are we working on that's got us stumped..?" She knew to phrase things as a group effort, careful not to outwardly call attention to his struggle. She knew better than to bruise his ego. He ran his long, thick fingers through his raven spiked locks, releasing a pent-up sigh from his lungs. "I've been commissioned for a new weapon, one that targets the enemy's nerve receptors, specifically causing pain, no other feeling.. the problem I'm facing is that I've figured out what the chemical compound for a successful solution, however, despite the various ways I've combined chemicals together, something is still missing as a catalyst to create the reaction which would start the targeting of nerves."

Nodding along and listening as he spoke, sharp eyes read over every chemical equation on the board, computing it all in her head and getting to make sense of it all. "Ah, I think I understand." He, too, nodded and sipped at the drink in his hand as he scanned over the chalk, over and over. He let her read and process in silence, as she usually did. Y/n tended to keep quiet around Caesar, coming across meek and obedient, only really opening up when it was required of her. She really was his best assistant, but a lot of that came from her appearance, Caesar thinking fondly of her as a stone cold fox with an even more attractive brain. Shit- he was getting lost in thought again - focus, Caesar. Harlow turned her head to look to at the large man, pointing and tapping her nail on the board at part of the chemical compound written as the answer. "The catalyst you're missing you don't have in your cabinet, sir. The thing that puts this all together to work is blood. This compound would need to enter the bloodstream and react with the DNA to then attack the nerve receptors. See?" Picking up the chalk, she began to factor in the chemical compound for blood, biting lightly at her bottom lip as she worked through the math in front of him. His eyes followed along on her equation, but trailed up from the chalk to her hand, hand to arm, arm to shoulder, shoulder to - "See, sir?" He blinked, yellowed eyes returning to the math. "Ah, yes.. that makes total sense.. I'd have gotten there eventually, I'm just in a rush." Caesar snickered, washing his hand as if to wave her off knowing he really did get stuck. "Of course sir. If that's all-"

"Hold on now, Y/n. You figured out the missing element and that I don't have it in stock, but you see, you were wrong," Steady hands drew out the chemical in the vial on the table into a syringe before taking an empty hand and grabbing her arm, gripping it tightly. "I have plenty of blood right here. You understand, this is for science! It'll wear off soon... maybe." With a maniacal laugh, he quickly and roughly inserted the needle into her arm, shoving the plumber down with his thumb, emptying the contents into her vein. She shrieked as the burning sensation from being stabbed shocked her system and began to writhe in agony as he blood began activating the serum she just helped create. The pain was insufferable and unbearable, and even those words weren't enough to describe the burning, pin-pricking, ripping, bubbling, shattering pain erupting through her petite frame. "S-Sir!! Help... help me! Make it stop, it works, please! Make it stop!" She gasped for air as if he lungs weren't holding on to oxygen.

"I haven't made an anti-serum. That wasn't asked of me. Just the pain-inducing one you're testing for me now." He laughed, patting the top of her head. "You'll be fine, just ride it out. I'm glad you were smart enough to solve this problem for me."

"Please!" She screamed again, bloodshot eyes looking up and pleading with her boss. He sighed, rolling his eyes as if he was bothered by her agony that he inflicted. "Ugh, fine.. pain is usually subdued by pleasure inhibitors, so go get a massage or something." He began to wave her off again, turning to leave her to figure it out for herself, but was stopped abruptly by her grip on his jacket. "You.. you have to do it. Please sir." Her shaky voice rang in his ears, and he pursed his violet lips.

"I told you what you needed to combat the pain, you need-"

"Pleasure." She interjected. He swallowed at the sound of desperation in that one word. Long fingernails duh further into his jacket, pulling his large frame closer to her face, "You have to do it, you have to be the one to - ah - give me pleasure!" Pants escaped from her throat and leaked over her painted, plump lips. The giant man was beside himself. Surely this girl, his most trusted assistant, his usually meek and distant assistant, wasn't suggesting... was she?

He knew better than to assume. "What do you want me to-"

"Touch me. Hnnnnng..Pleasure me. Numb and combat this."

To see her begging this way was foreign, yet a part of him do within his self found the action stroking his ego and feeding his confidence. Silencing that part of him began to grow more and more difficult. "A-Are you.. soliciting your boss for sex, Y/n?"

Despite the excruciating pain, Y/n yanked him in her grip harder, screaming out before growling in his face, "This is your fucking fault, so fuck away the pain, Caesar!!"

He felt his cock throb at how forward she was. Inner conflict flooded his system, not knowing whether or not he should blur the lines of professionalism for the sake of fixing his mistake in using his assistant like a guinea pig. "This.. this is the serum talking, Y/n, listen, I know I shouldn't have used you like that, but-"

"You're right. You shouldn't have, but you did!" She winced again, nearly doubling over, the only thing keeping her up on her own two feet being the death grip she kept on her boss's oversized lab jacket. She seethed through gritted teeth. "So now you're going to fix it! Y-You are going.. to give me pleasure to combat this.. or I will fucking kill you and make it look like an accident!" The more aggressive Y/n became, the harder Caesar felt his heartbeat in his growing erection. Good god, the way sweat glistened off of her perfect skin.. he was practically salivating, continuing to lose the battle with his morals. Well, lack thereof, being a pirate with a substantial bounty over his head, that is.

"I..I don't-" Rolling her eyes and growling, she yanked one more time at his coat, setting him off balance. He stumbled forward, pushing them back against the lab table, his hands reaching out and finding safety in the flat top, successfully yet unintentionally pinning Y/n between the surface and his towering figure. "Get with it." She demanded, and without further pleading or demanding, she leaned up and kissed him with fever. He was taken aback but was so easily swayed. All bets were off as he shoved away the part of his subconscious that held morals to a standard, his mind flooding with every minuscule thought he'd ever had as his eyes wandered over his assistant over her years of service to him. His lips encapsulated hers as she panted heavily through the pain, every puff outward being inhaled into his own lungs, swallowing each groan, not really sure if it were born of pain or pleasure. One hand lifted from the table behind Y/n to snake its large digits into her thick hair, curling into a firm grip at the base of her scalp and pulling their mouths apart. Before she could protest, his mouth kissed a trail downward, marking claim to her jawbone, neck, and clavicle. Small gasps slipped from her puffy lips as Caesar alternated between wet kisses, light nips, and swift suction. "S'that helping any, eh?" She gasped, "Yes S-Sir.." a chuckle rumbled in his barrel of a chest like thunder rolling through black clouds as he returned to teasing at her upper half. As his mouth worked magic over her skin, he could feel goosebumps form and peak under his lips, causing him to smirk against her. Hand still tangled at her sensitive scalp, he let his nails drag gently against the base of her neck before taking gently again at the girl. "Ah! More!"

He pulled back with another thunderous chuckle. "What a desperate little slut you've become.. all over a little pain? Pathetic." Despite his teasing and taunting, Caesar'a hand retreated from Y/n's hair and made it's way to her top, digits fiddling with every part that kept her covered. Becoming frustrated after just a few seconds, a snarl curled into his lips, and with a "Fuck this." Caesar ripped the garment from her torso, discarding the shredded fabric to the laboratory floor. More of her skin prickled up at the sudden exposure to the cool, sterile air. His hand swept behind her, sending dozens of vials and petrie dishes crashing to the floor, glass breaking into hundreds of pieces at their feet before lifting Y/n with such ease, setting her down at the edge of the now clear table and slotting himself easily between her thighs. His head swam, just feeling the heat radiating on his clothes member from her core.

Her big eyes looked up at him, so round, so full of unadulterated lust and desperation to be free of the pain he'd forced her in. "So I can get to these easier.." He rambled, ducking his head down again, capturing her lips with his own as his touch landed on her perky breast. Ceasar happily caught more gasps from her mouth in his own as he worked over her nipple, it beginning to pebble under his constant touch and play. He palmed at the soft, warm tissue, feeling Y/n's body roll with the fluid motions of his cupping and squeezing, flicking and pinching. Her moans were relentless under his touch, and fuck did it feed the arrogant bastard. Tearing away from her mouth, Caesar replaced his tormenting hands with his wet mouth. His tongue was heavy on her, not surprising for his giant size, as he dragged the muscle over her bud over and over, pulling the breathiest moans from his victim. Gentle teeth lay small bites over and over to solicit yelps of pain and pleasure, switching over and over to suckling and flicking as her frame arched into his torment. Y/n grabbed Caesar by the hair, pulling him back from her chest. "Lower." The cockiest smirk spread over his lips, smeared lip paint left on his cheeks and across her skin from mouth to breasts. No words were needed as he eagerly disposed of her bottoms with just as much ease as he'd done with her top. However, Caesar spared her underwear, admiring the excessively damp spot that he'd caused, shifting his gaze back and forth from the spot to the embarrassed expression on his assistant's face. "Awhh.. are we bashful now? Pathetic." He cackled madly as he pressed his thumb into the wet fabric, and she instinctively grinded back into his touch, desperate for relief. He'd never admit it, but feeling her damp heat through the fabric of her underwear had him close to coming undone. His cock jumped in his pants, straining and struggling against the fabric constraints, with a mind of its own just imagining how much tighter that wet little pussy would be than the pants that confined it.

Caesar leaned in, placing his heavy tongue flat against her covered slit, hands anchored taut at her hips, thumbs digging into the soft spot next to her hip bones to prevent any squirming. "Hah!" Harlow called out, chills going up her back. "More.. need more. Please, it still hurts!"

"Yeah, babe? It still hurt? Beg harder, and maybe I'll eat you out." She flushed, wanting so strongly to rebel against his arrogance. However, she knew she was in no position to be calling the shots when she needed the relief from agony so badly. "F-Fine.. fine... please, Ceas.. need it, need you.. need you inside me.."

His cock twitched again, and his breath audibly caught in the back of his throat. "Didn't expect all that, but.. I guess I can oblige when you talk to me so filthy." Falling to his knees, secretly desperate for Harlow himself, he moved a hand from her hip to free her of the fabric that stood between them both and sweet, sweet relief. "Fuck.." He groaned softly, eyes hooded in pleasure at just the sight of pre-cum oozing from her core and pooling on the table beneath her. Caesar flashed a wicked smile before dragging a finger through her folds, gathering up her slick and presenting it to her. He played with it, the glimmering strings stretching and thinking and breaking as he spread his fingers apart in front of her face. "This is so fucking hot, Y/n.." Lowering his hand back to her bare opening, he gathered up more and let his tongue slowly drag over his sullied fingertips. He inhaled deeply, a darkness overcoming his golden eyes like a shark who had just smelled blood in the water. "Fuckin' hell.. that's so good.. need more.. need it.." She mewed, and Caesar obediently dove in. His tongue lapped up the sweet fluids, drinking it up as the tip of his tongue prodded at her warm entrance. More moaning rolled from Y/n's mouth as her head hung back, barely able to keep herself propped up, Caesar hooking his arms around her spread thighs and trapping them over his shoulders at the edge of the table, splitting her open on the girth of his tongue, but it just wasn't enough. Not for Caesar, not for Y/n. No. They both needed more. He moved a hand back down, continuing his tongue's assault on her clit, now adding in his monstrous digits, beginning to slowly dive deep inside. He hissed at how tight she felt around his fingers, working her open, scissoring two digits open and closed, eventually adding in a third, then a fourth, picking up the pace of his jackhammer arm and swirling of his wet tongue. One arm continued to hold her in place despite her involuntary twitching and attempts to crawl away from the simulation. Caesar was becoming drunk on her taste, kidding himself completely. He'd snapped.

"I can't take this anymore, I need it." He stood quickly, his soaked fingers fumbling with his belt to free his throbbing member. Much to Y/n's astonishment, once freed, Caesar was revealed to be beyond well endowed, almost to a fearful amount - but nothing could be more painful than this serum's effects on her, even being split open on his huge -

"Y/n..y'ready?" She hesitated but nodded quickly, the pause of touch bringing back the agony. As she consented, he easily lined himself up with her entrance, spitting on his length and giving it a few pumps while eyeing her with a smirk, the slick of his saliva mixing with the beading pre at his tip. He pushed her back to lie down, returning his grip to her plush thighs as he slowly pushed himself into her. A hiss of lust snaked is way from his throat, "Your pussy's so fuckin' tight, Y/n.. shit.. 's so good.." He could feel her body struggle to take him, but her blissed out expression told a different story. A long, airy moan filled the room as he bottomed out inside her, her walls squeezing and pulsating around his hard cock. He began slow, feeling the drag and pull of his thrusts drawing out more and more illicit noises, knowing that he was actually numbing the pain he'd subjected her to. Feeling her body relax under him, he began to pick up the pace, a hand finding it's way down to her abdomen, pressing gently down to feel himself pumping in and out as his tip inside bumped I'm to his palm on top of her stomach.

"I'm so full!" Y/n cried out, his tip hitting her g-spot over and over. Caesar moved his hand ever so slightly to allow his thumb to grace small circles over her already puffy clit. A warmth began building, a knot forming, a coil tightening. Y/n panted, legs vibrating at the sides of his thrusting hips. Even he began to start buckling. Their combined, staggard moans of ecstacy began to build and collide, and the legs of the lab table beneath them began to claret and shake. "I..I think I'm gonna-" She cried out, and Caesar grinned like a madman as he kept pace with his hips and thumb. "Do it." The feeling of her coming undone was enough to send Caesar over the edge, knees buckling and spilling inside of her quivering, tight pussy. Small leaks began to pour out in what little space it had to escape, and he leaned over her body as he tried to catch his breath. Both of their heads were swimming, coming down from the high of a strong orgasm ripping through their bodies.

"It.. it wore off." Caesar nodded as he stood up straight and pulled out, cum spilling from Y/n's tight, pulsing entrance and coating his cock. "That's good, I'm uh.. happy to have helped." Blushing madly and sitting up on her elbows, Y/n scowled. "Are you kidding?? You did this to me! I should report you!"