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The first thing Y/N noticed was the color.
A shock of silver, like moonlight given form, strewn across the wet, dark rocks. It was so vivid against the predawn grey of the Linkon coast, a place still scarred by the Chronorift Catastrophe but stubbornly clinging to life. She’d come here for solitude, to escape the ever-present hum of the city and the weight of her new Hunter responsibilities. The air tasted of salt and ozone, and the only sounds were the relentless push-pull of the sea and the distant, mournful cry of a gull.
That silver hair didn’t belong.
Her Hunter instincts, still raw but present, kicked in. A Wanderer? But no Protocore energy signature prickled her senses. This was something else. Something… still. She approached cautiously, her boots slipping on the slick stone. As she drew nearer, the shape resolved. Not just hair, but a man—or the upper half of one—sprawled across a flat rock, the lower half submerged in a deep, swirling tidal pool. His torso was bare, sculpted with a musculature that spoke of power far beyond human norms, skin pale as sea foam. And that hair, long and thick, covered his face completely.
He wasn’t moving.
A faint, coppery scent mixed with the salt. Blood. Her steps quickened. She knelt beside him, the rock cold and rough through her pants. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Up close, he was massive. Broad shoulders, a chest that rose and fell with shallow, strained breaths. A deep, angry gash marred his side, just above the waterline, weeping dark fluid that diluted into the sea.
“Hey,” she whispered, her voice swallowed by the surf. “Can you hear me?”
No response. His only answer was the weak flutter of a pulse in his throat.
Hesitantly, she reached out. Her fingers, trembling slightly, touched the icy silver strands. They were softer than she expected, like spun silk soaked in seawater. Gently, she brushed them back from his face.
Her own breath stopped.
Beneath the hair was a face of such sharp, otherworldly beauty it felt like a physical blow. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips that were pale but perfectly sculpted. And when her fingers finally cleared his eyes, they were closed, but the lashes were dark fans against his skin. This was no ordinary man. This was something from the old tales, something that belonged in the deep, dark places of the world her grandmother’s files had only hinted at.
A low, pained groan vibrated from his chest. His eyelids fluttered, then opened.
Y/N jerked back, falling onto her hands. The eyes that focused on her were a bright, luminous red—the color of dying stars, of deep-sea vents, of blood in the water. For a terrifying second, the right one seemed to glow from within, casting a faint crimson light on his sharp features. The intelligence in that gaze was immediate, ancient, and utterly assessing.
He didn’t startle. He simply looked, his gaze sweeping over her with a clarity that felt invasive. The pain was there, in the tightness around his eyes, but it was secondary to a profound, unnerving calm.
“You…” His voice was a rasp, like stones grinding in a deep current, but it held a peculiar, melodic undertone. “You moved the hair.”
She could only nod, her throat tight.
He tried to push himself up, a grimace twisting his beautiful face. The movement made the gash in his side weep anew. “The tide is receding. This pool… will not sustain me for long.”
“You’re hurt,” she managed to say, finding her voice. It sounded small and stupid.
One corner of his mouth quirked, though it didn’t reach those burning eyes. “Perceptive.” His head tilted, studying her. “You are not afraid.”
“I’m… deciding,” she admitted, the truth slipping out. He was clearly not human, clearly dangerous. But he was also clearly failing. The Hunter in her warred with the human. The Hunter won. “You need to get back to the water. Properly.”
“The sentiment is appreciated,” he said, each word measured. He moved again, his arm slipping. The powerful muscles in his back and shoulders corded with strain, but the lower half of him—what she could see in the murky water—was a long, dark shape, restless and heavy. A tail. A fucking tail.
“Let me help,” she said before she could think better of it. She moved closer, ignoring the primal scream in her hindbrain. She slid an arm under his shoulders, her body immediately protesting the sheer weight and density of him. He was like carved marble, cold and impossibly solid. His skin was slick, not with sweat, but with a fine, iridescent sheen.
He didn’t resist. He let her take his weight, his head lolling against her shoulder. A scent enveloped her—deep ocean, cold abyssal currents, and something else, something metallic and wild, like a storm over open water. His hair spilled over her arm.
“The channel,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. His breath was cool. “To the left. It deepens quickly.”
She half-dragged, half-carried him, her boots scrabbling for purchase. The water, shockingly cold, soaked through her clothes instantly, climbing up her thighs. His tail, now fully visible as they left the pool, was a breathtaking, terrifying thing. Scales the color of a midnight abyss, shot through with vivid, arterial red that patterned along the length like flowing lava. It was powerfully muscled, easily eight feet long, and it moved with a weak, reflexive undulation.
Finally, the seabed dropped away. The water was at her chest, freezing the air in her lungs. He was mostly buoyant now.
“This is far enough,” he said, his voice stronger, already nourished by the deeper sea. He turned in her arms, his hands coming up to frame her face. His touch was cold, his fingers long and tipped with sharp, black nails. Those red eyes bored into hers, and the glow in the right one had subsided to a simmer. “You have my thanks, little savior.”
“It’s nothing,” she stammered, suddenly intensely aware of his proximity, of his nakedness, of the sheer power coiled in the water around them.
“It is everything,” he corrected, his tone leaving no room for argument. “A debt is owed. What is your name?”
“Y/N,” she whispered.
“Y/N.” He tested the sound, and it rolled from his tongue like a secret. “I am Sylus.” A pause, a flicker of something—amusement, pride, warning—in his eyes. “A prince of these waters. Remember that.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. With a powerful, sinuous motion of that magnificent tail, he pushed away from her, diving beneath the dark surface. He was gone in a swirl of silver hair and crimson-black scales, leaving her standing chest-deep in the freezing sea, shivering from more than just the cold.
*
Years Later.
The memory had faded, softened at the edges like a worn seashell. It became a dream she half-believed she’d invented—a beautiful, delirious fantasy conjured by stress and the strange energy of the N109 zone. Prince of the waters. Sure.
Life moved on. She grew into her role as a Deepspace Hunter, her Resonance Evol maturing. She faced Wanderers, uncovered more of EVER’s grim experiments, felt the terrible weight of the Aether Core within her. Through it all, Linkon City and its cursed coastline remained her anchor.
And the gifts began.
It started subtly. A perfectly spherical pearl, moon-white and flawless, left on her windowsill after a storm. Then a piece of polished coral the color of a sunset, nestled in the sand where she always walked. A seashell that sang with a faint, harmonic hum when held to the ear. They were beautiful, impossible things, items that felt alive with deep ocean magic. No note, no sign of a giver. Just… offerings.
She’d asked around her UNICORNS team, teased Xavier, accused Rafayel of his typical dramatic flourishes. But their bewilderment was genuine. Zayne had examined the humming shell with clinical interest, found no Protocore signature, and told her to be cautious. She was, but a secret, warm part of her cherished them. They felt like a promise from the world itself, a whisper that there was still untouched beauty amidst the chaos.
Tonight, the gift was a gem. Not a Protocore, but a raw, uncut stone that glowed with a soft, internal blue light, like bioluminescent plankton. It sat on her usual rock, pulsing gently. She picked it up, its surface smooth and cool. It throbbed in time with her heartbeat for a moment before settling.
“Okay,” she said aloud to the empty beach, the wind whipping her hair. “This is officially weird. And incredibly generous. Thank you, mysterious beach fairy.”
A low, resonant chuckle rolled out of the darkness, from the direction of the water.
It wasn’t a human sound. It was deeper, wetter, vibrating through the air and the stone beneath her feet. Every hair on her body stood on end. She spun, the glowing gem clutched like a weapon.
The sea, about fifty yards out, was no longer empty. A head and shoulders breached the surface, silhouetted against the moonlit waves.
He was massive. The years had not diminished the memory; they had lied. His shoulders were broader, his presence a tangible pressure that pushed against the night. His silver hair, plastered to his scalp and streaming over his shoulders, seemed to capture and hold the moonlight. And his eyes… those bright red coals burned across the distance, fixing on her with an intensity that stole the air from her lungs.
He was more than otherworldly. He was predatory. A king surveying his shore.
Y/N took an involuntary step back, her boots scraping on gravel.
He moved, not with a swimmer’s stroke, but with an effortless, terrifying glide. The water barely rippled as he covered the distance to the shallows, his upper body rising higher. Moonlight glinted off the water sheening his skin, the hard planes of his chest and abdomen. The powerful V of his torso trailed down, disappearing into the dark water where she knew the colossal, red-and-black tail rested.
He stopped where the waves lapped at his waist, still a formidable distance away but feeling far too close. The scale of him was staggering. He made the ocean itself seem like a fitting throne.
“Y/N,” he said. His voice. Oh, god, his voice. It was the rasp from her memory, but now it was layered with authority, with a dark, melodic richness that slid over her skin and coiled heat low in her belly. It was a voice meant for giving orders, for whispering secrets in the deep, for making promises that would unravel a person.
“You…” she breathed, the gem almost slipping from her numb fingers. “You’re real.”
“I have always been real, my beloved,” he said, and the endearment, spoken with such casual, absolute certainty, made her knees weak. “I have searched every coastline, every current, for a trace of you. For years.”
“Searched for me? Why?” Confusion swamped the fear. “That was… that was a long time ago. I just helped you back to the water.”
“You touched me,” he corrected, his head tilting. The motion was eerily reminiscent of that first day. “You moved the hair from my face. You saw me. You carried my weight. No one does such a thing without consequence. Not for a creature like me.”
“I don’t understand.”
He began moving forward again, a slow, deliberate advance through the shallows. The water sluiced down his body. “You named yourself to me. You gave me a treasure beyond any gem in my vaults. Your name. And I have yearned for the sound of it on my own lips ever since.” He was closer now, close enough to see the sharp cut of his features, the faint, almost imperceptible glow in his right iris. Close enough to see the way his gaze devoured her, leaving no part of her unseen. “You are as beautiful as you were then. More. Time has honed you. It has made you a Hunter. I have watched.”
The admission should have been chilling. Instead, it fed the heat inside her. “Watched?”
“Every gift was a plea. A hope that you would remember. That you would look for me.” He was only a few yards away now, the water at his thighs. The presence of him was overwhelming—the scent of deep ocean and cold power, the sheer physical domination of space. “You do not remember, do you, my darling?”
The hurt in his voice was a subtle thing, a faint fissure in the bedrock of his confidence. It was there and gone, but she heard it. It made him suddenly, devastatingly real.
“I… I thought it was a dream,” she confessed, shame coloring her words. “A beautiful, impossible dream.”
A slow, devastating smile touched his lips. It was smug, possessive, and unbearably tender all at once. “Then let me make you a new one. A waking one.” He closed the final distance. He didn’t touch her, but he loomed, his shadow engulfing her. She had to crane her neck to look up at him. “You are my heart, Y/N. The pearl I thought was lost. My sea and my shore. And I am done waiting.”
His hand rose, water dripping from his fingertips. He didn’t grab, didn’t demand. He simply cupped her cheek, his palm cool and vast against her skin. The contact was an electric shock, a completion of a circuit begun years ago on a bloody rock. A full-body shiver wracked her, and a soft, helpless sound escaped her throat.
“There,” he murmured, his thumb stroking her cheekbone. “You feel it. The tide between us. It always pulls us together.”
“Sylus,” she whispered, his name a prayer and a surrender.
“Say it again,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rumble that vibrated in her chest.
“Sylus.”
His red eyes flared. “Good.” The praise was a physical caress. “You will never be apart from me again. Do you understand? The search is over. The yearning ends tonight.”
He leaned down, and the world narrowed to the cool promise of his lips, the scent of him, the burning intensity of his gaze. This was madness. He was a creature of legend, a king, an unknown variable in her already chaotic life. But the pull was absolute, a riptide she had no desire to fight.
Their lips met.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was a claiming. Cool, firm lips moved against hers with a possessive hunger that stole her breath. His hand slid from her cheek to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her firmly, not allowing retreat. A gasp shuddered through her, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping into her mouth. He tasted of salt and deep, cold places and something indescribably wild. His other arm banded around her waist, pulling her flush against the solid, chilled wall of his chest. The contrast between his cool skin and the sudden, frantic heat blooming inside her was dizzying.
She melted into him. Her hands, of their own volition, came up to grasp his shoulders. The muscle there was like forged iron beneath her fingers. A low, approving growl vibrated from his chest into hers. He kissed her with a centuries-old longing, his tongue dancing with hers, exploring, memorizing. It was sensual and desperate and utterly consuming. She was lost in the taste of him, in the secure cage of his arms, in the rightness of it.
When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing raggedly. Her lips felt swollen, sensitized. His eyes were pure fire.
“Mine,” he breathed against her mouth, the word a vow.
He didn’t wait for a response. In one fluid, powerful motion, he bent and swept her into his arms. She yelped, clutching at him. He was carrying her, striding back into the deeper water with impossible ease, as if her weight was nothing.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Taking what is mine,” he said, his voice guttural with need. “I have dreamed of this. Of having you in my waters, surrounded by my essence. I will not wait another moment.”
The water rose to his chest, then his shoulders. He kept walking until the sandy bottom fell away. Then, with a powerful kick of that massive tail, he dove, holding her tightly to him.
The cold, dark water enveloped them. Panic spiked for a second before she felt his lips on hers again, sharing his breath, and a strange, soothing energy seemed to wrap around her from his skin. She could breathe. Not air, but something else, something infused with his power. Her eyes adjusted. They were in a hidden underwater grotto, lit by the same soft blue bioluminescence as the gem she’d dropped. The ceiling was arched rock, the floor was smooth sand. It was a private, secret chamber, a king’s boudoir in the deep.
He set her on her feet. The water here was waist-deep for him, chest-deep for her. The filtered blue light danced over his magnificent body, over the sinuous power of his tail which now rested coiled in the sand. He was breathtaking, a dark god of the sea, and he was looking at her as if she was the only source of light in his universe.
“You see?” he said, his voice echoing softly in the chamber. “A world apart. Just for us.”
He reached for her again, his hands going to the clasp of her Hunter jacket. His movements were deliberate, unhurried, but there was a palpable hunger in every gesture. “Let me see you, my pearl. All of you.”
She should have been self-conscious. But under the weight of his gaze, the sheer, unshakable certainty of his desire, any modesty burned away. She helped him, her fingers fumbling with her own clothes. The soaked fabric was heavy, clinging. He peeled her jacket away, then her shirt, his cool fingers brushing against her heated skin, making her gasp. Each touch was a brand. When her breasts were bared to the cool, watery air and the glow of the cave, a ragged, hungry sound tore from his throat.
“By the deep,” he whispered, his red eyes feasting on her. “You are perfection.” His hands came up, not to grope, but to worship. His palms, cool and large, cupped the full weight of her breasts, his thumbs sweeping over her tightening nipples in slow, maddening circles. “So soft. So warm. Made for my hands.”
The sensation was exquisite. The coolness of his touch against her feverish skin, the rough pads of his thumbs on her sensitive peaks. She arched into his hands with a moan, her head falling back. “Sylus…”
“Yes. Moan for me. Let me hear every sweet sound.” He bent his head, his silver hair falling around them like a curtain. His mouth closed over one nipple, and the world exploded.
His tongue was cool, rough like a cat’s, and he laved her with relentless, focused attention, then drew the peak deep into his mouth, suckling strongly. Pleasure, sharp and bright, lanced from her breast straight to her core, which was already throbbing, already desperately wet. She cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“So responsive,” he praised, switching to her other breast, giving it the same devastating attention. “So eager for your king. I knew you would be. I have dreamed of the taste of you.”
He lavished her breasts until she was writhing, mewling, her hands clutching at his hair. Only then did he pull back, his lips glistening, his eyes dark with lust. His hands slid down her sides, over her hips, and hooked into the waistband of her pants and underwear. In one smooth motion, he stripped the remaining sodden clothing from her, leaving her utterly bare and exposed in the glowing water.
His gaze raked over her, from her flushed face, down her trembling body, to the junction of her thighs. The water obscured the details, but his look felt more intimate than any touch. A slow, smug smile spread across his face.
“Already dripping for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “My clever, hungry girl. You have been waiting, even if you did not know it.”
He pulled her close again, his arm like iron around her back. His other hand trailed down her stomach, through the water, and found her cleft. His fingers parted her folds, and the first, direct contact of his cool skin against her burning, slick flesh made her sob.
“Oh, fuck,” she choked out, her hips bucking against his hand.
“Fuck is what I intend to do, my heart,” he growled, his finger sliding through her drenched heat, gathering her wetness. “But first, I must learn every part of you.” He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, his eyes locked on hers, and sucked them clean. A low, resonant groan of pleasure rumbled from his chest. “Gods. You taste of sunlight and storm. Of mine.”
The display was so raw, so primal, it sent another gush of wetness between her legs. He saw it, felt it in the water, and his grin turned feral.
His hand returned, this time with purpose. One long, cool finger pressed inside her, and she was so ready, so swollen, it slid in to the knuckle with a lewd, wet sound that echoed in the cave. Her inner muscles clenched around him instinctively, greedily.
“So tight,” he breathed, his forehead dropping to hers. His red eyes were slits of pure carnal focus. “So hot inside. Clenching on my finger like a sweet, desperate fist.” He began to move, a slow, torturous in-and-out, his palm grinding against her clit with each thrust. “You take it so well. My perfect pearl. Made to be filled.”
She was panting, her moans ringing off the stone. The pleasure was coiling too fast, too intense. His finger was thick, stretching her deliciously, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more.
“Please… Sylus… more.”
“You shall have more,” he promised, his voice a dark caress. He added a second finger, stretching her wider. The burn was exquisite, a prelude to what was to come. He scissored them, crooking them, searching until he found a spot inside her that made her vision whiten. She screamed, her body bowing.
“There,” he purred, rubbing that magical, devastating spot with relentless precision. “Your sweet spot. I will worship it until you forget your own name. Come for me, Y/N. Come on my fingers. Show your king how beautifully you fall apart.”
His command, the filthy, praise-laden words in that irresistible voice, was her undoing. The coil snapped. Her orgasm crashed over her with the force of a tidal wave, a raw, screaming release that clenched viciously around his fingers and sent pulses of wet heat flooding into the water. She convulsed in his arms, her cries echoing wildly in the grotto, a boneless, shuddering mess.
He held her through it, his fingers working her gently, prolonging the waves until they subsided into weak tremors. He kissed her temple, her cheek, her jaw. “Beautiful. Perfect. Just as I knew you would be.”
As she floated in the aftershocks, panting, he maneuvered them. He sat back on the sandy ledge, his tail partially curled, pulling her to straddle his lap. Her back was to his chest, his arms around her. The water lapped at her breasts. She could feel the hard, powerful length of his torso against her back, and… something else. Two distinct, massive columns of heat and iron-hard pressure against the small of her back and the swell of her buttocks.
The reality of him—two—hit her like a physical blow, reigniting the embers of her pleasure into a fresh blaze of desperate need.
“Do you feel them, my beloved?” he whispered into her ear, his voice a gravelly, erotic rasp. One hand splayed possessively over her lower belly, the other came around to cup her breast, teasing her nipple. “My cocks. They have ached for you for years. They are not… human. Are you afraid?”
She was. A little. But the fear was swallowed by a yawning, hungry curiosity. She shook her head, rubbing back against the twin pillars of his desire. “I want to feel them.”
A sharp, approving inhale behind her. “My brave, greedy girl.” His hand on her belly pressed down gently, urging her to lean forward. “Then look.”
She looked down, through the clear, glowing water.
Her breath caught. They were magnificent. Terrifying. His. Two thick, proud lengths, rising from a nest of dark silver curls at the base of his torso where his tail began. Each one was a shade of dusky grey, like storm clouds, veined with deep blue and that same vivid, arterial red that patterned his tail. They were enormous, easily the length and girth of her forearm, crowned with broad, flushed heads that already glistened with pearly precum. They lay side-by-side, heavy and pulsating with a low, steady throb she could feel through the water.
“They are both for you,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck, his sharp teeth grazing her skin in a promise that made her clench empty and aching inside. “One will fill this sweet, dripping cunt.” His fingers dipped between her legs from behind, stroking her swollen lips, making her jerk. “The other… we shall see. But you will take them. You were made to.”
His confidence was absolute, an aphrodisiac in itself. He guided her, his hands on her hips. “Now, my pearl. Take your king. Ride me. Claim what you have awakened.”
He positioned the head of one cock at her soaked, willing entrance. Even that broad tip was a stretch. She gasped as he nudged forward, not entering, just applying pressure.
“Slowly,” he instructed, his voice strained with his own control. “I will not hurt you. But I will fill you as you have never been filled. Sink down on me. Let me feel your hot, tight cunt milking me open.”
Biting her lip, she obeyed, lowering herself onto him. The stretch was immediate, intense, a burning, glorious fullness that stole her breath. He was so big. She felt every ridge, every vein as she impaled herself inch by agonizing inch. The water provided slickness, but it was her own desperate wetness that eased the way. A low, continuous moan fell from her lips.
“Fuck,” Sylus groaned, his head falling back against the rock, his arms tightening around her. “Yesss… that’s it. Oh, my perfect girl. You are sheathing me. So tight. So fucking hot inside.” He was fully seated inside her now, his pelvis pressed flush against her buttocks, his entire massive length buried to the hilt. She felt impossibly full, stretched to her limit, her inner walls fluttering around the incredible intrusion. “Do you feel it? How deep I am? You feel me in your womb, don’t you, darling?”
She could only nod, overwhelmed, her body singing with the sensation of being so completely occupied, so owned.
“Good,” he purred. He began to move her, his hands on her hips setting a slow, deep, rolling rhythm. He wasn’t thrusting up; he was making her ride him, controlling her movements with exquisite precision. Each rise and fall dragged his colossal cock against every sensitive nerve inside her. The friction was unreal, the stretch constant. Pleasure, thick and molten, pooled anew in her core.
“You are taking me so beautifully,” he praised, his lips on her shoulder, his voice a broken, sexy rumble. “Your cunt is gripping me like a vise. Made for my cock. Only for my cock.” He ground her down against him on an upward roll of his hips, hitting a depth that made her see stars. “Mine.”
“Yours!” she cried out, the word torn from her. “Oh, god, Sylus… yours!”
“Yes,” he hissed, his control fraying. The pace increased. He lifted her and pulled her down with more force, the sloshing water and the wet, slapping sounds of their joining filling the grotto. “You are mine. This cunt is mine. These tits are mine.” He palmed her breast roughly, pinching her nipple. “This mouth is mine.” He turned her head and captured her lips in a searing, possessive kiss, swallowing her escalating moans. “Every scream, every drop of cum, every shiver—mine.”
He was fucking her in earnest now, powerful surges of his hips meeting her downward strokes. The dual sensation of being filled and controlled, of his filthy praise in that divine voice, was hurtling her toward another cliff. The coil was winding again, tighter, hotter.
“I’m… I’m going to…”
“Come,” he commanded, his voice guttural and raw. “Come on my cock, Y/N. Soak me. Let me feel you gush for your king.”
His hand slid from her breast down her stomach, through her drenched curls, and found her clit. Two cool fingers pressed and circled the swollen nub in time with his deep, pounding thrusts.
It was too much. The overwhelming fullness, the relentless stimulation, his voice, his praise, his possession. Her second orgasm detonated, a cataclysmic eruption that ripped a shattered scream from her throat. Her inner walls convulsed in a violent, milking rhythm around his invading cock, a flood of hot release gushing out around their joining, mixing with the sea. She spasmed, writhed, completely mindless, held together only by his arms.
Through her haze, she felt his own control shatter. A ragged, booming roar tore from his chest, echoing like thunder in the cave. “NOW YOU TAKE MY SEED!”
His hips stuttered, then slammed up, burying himself to the root as he erupted inside her. She felt the hot, pulsing jet of his release, shockingly warm against her inner chill, flooding her depths. The sensation of being pumped full, of his cock throbbing and jerking within her clenching channel, pulled another, smaller orgasm from her wrecked body. He came and came, a seemingly endless torrent, his groans of release raw and primal against her neck.
Finally, the world stilled. The only sounds were their ragged, mingled breaths and the gentle lap of water. He was still inside her, still pulsing weakly, still filling her. His arms were locked around her, his face buried in her hair.
“Mine,” he whispered, the word a satisfied, exhausted sigh. “Finally, completely mine.”
She was too spent to speak, floating in a sea of satiation and overwhelming fullness. He had been right. They would never be apart again. The bond was forged in saltwater, pleasure, and seed.
After a long moment, he gently shifted, his softening cock slipping from her overstimulated flesh with a wet, tender sound. A trickle of his release followed, and he made a soft, possessive noise, his hand cupping her sex as if to keep it inside her.
“The other,” she mumbled, delirious, her head lolling back against his shoulder. Her hand drifted through the water, brushing against the second, still-hard length resting against her thigh. “You said… both.”
Sylus chuckled, a deep, exhausted, utterly smug sound. He caught her wandering hand and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingertips. “Greedy little pearl,” he murmured, his voice thick with adoration and promise. “Your king is not done with you. Not by half. But even you need a moment to breathe.” He nuzzled her temple. “The night is long. And I have years of craving to sate.”