Page 141 of When Death Whispers

I can’t move.

I'm not entirely sure I want to.

Warmth wraps around me, delicate yet all-consuming, like I’m nestled between silk sheets beneath a summer sun. A soft sigh slips from my lips, contentment keeping me suspended between awareness and sleep. Every nerve hums with lazy pleasure, my limbs heavy, relaxed, unwilling to leave the cocoon of heat and softness.

A low, familiar rumble reverberates through my body, blending seamlessly with my heartbeat, spreading from my chest down to my toes. Something deep and delicious coils in my belly, warmth becoming something hotter, sharper—more demanding.

Slowly, my awareness returns, drawing attention to a pleasant weight settled atop me, pressing deliciously against my skin. The sensation blooms, my breath quickens, and small gasps replace my sighs. The warmth builds, not lazily now but hungrily, as if it's devouring me from the inside out.

I gasp again, blinking open my eyes—right as a thousand pink stars pulse across the dark ceiling above, casting everything in a surreal, glowing haze.

And there he is.

Steo.

Hovering over me, glowing orange eyes locked onto mine, his expression somewhere between reverence and ruin. His cock, ridged and unreal, stretches me open in a slow, grinding stroke that pulls a moan from my throat.

“I attempted to rouse you, Snow Pea,” he rumbles, voice wrecked and breathless. “You would not wake… and I could not wait.”

His shadows flicker around us, coiled tight at my hips, my thighs, the base of his cock—vibrating with something like anticipation. I try to focus, to process what’s happening, but my body is already responding, hips tilting up to meet him, seeking more.

“Steo, your shadows… they’re back,” I gasp, voice cracking on a breathy laugh, “this is one hell of a wake-up call?—”

“I am famished,” he snarls, burying himself to the hilt with a rough thrust. “And your scent brought my shadows back. It is driving them feral.”

I whimper, slick gushing between my thighs, coating him. The wet sounds of our bodies meeting fill the air, obscene and delicious. My head spins as the shadows ripple across my skin, sliding downward to explore every inch of me.

Steo murmurs distractedly, “Foolish, defiant things...” His pace remains ruthless, yet his gaze drops down between us, curiosity suddenly overtaking him.

I follow his eyes, gasping at the sight—my thighs are glistening, soaked in my own slick. His cock, rigid and thick, is pumping relentlessly into me, spreading my pussy wide. It’s erotic and intoxicating. I’ve never been so wet, never felt so utterly claimed.

And then I see it.

His shadows, glowing a cheerful, impossible pink, have wrapped themselves tightly around the base of his cock—almost like they’ve developed a will of their own.

“What are they—” My question cuts off abruptly as the pink shadows twist and tease my nipples with deliberate precision, another coiling possessively around my clit, pulsing rhythmically.

Like a woman possessed I grab his throat, testing how far he’ll let me push him. His hips piston harder in response, his shadows pressing against every inch of me inside and out, overwhelming, relentless.

My climax builds like a rising storm. Pleasure explodes within me, white-hot and consuming. The veins in the tree above us burst into blinding pink supernovas, mirroring the intensity of our combined climax. My scream blends seamlessly with Steo’s roar, our bodies shuddering together in perfect synchronization.

Panting, I lie limp beneath him, basking in aftershocks as shadows glide gently over my overheated skin, satisfied—at least for now.

“You are exquisite,” Steo growls softly, hands still gently digging into my hips. His eyes glow fiercely, the hunger tempered but still present.

“You know,” I breathe out shakily, chuckling softly, “that’s not how you usually wake a human up, Bone man.”

He frowns, though the faintest smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “Bone Daddy,” he corrects, shadows flickering in mild agitation. “Or Steo. Not ‘Bone man’. I am not a man. I am Death. Harbinger of?—”

I cut him off abruptly, sitting up and sliding his cock out of me, the embarrassing gush of fluids staining the makeshift bed. Before he can protest, I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his in a teasing kiss, still testing that newfound control I seem to have over him.

He stiffens for a moment, then relaxes slightly, holding me in tentative confusion.

“Alright, hot stuff. Bone Daddy it is.”

Pulling away, I quickly become aware of how desperately human my current needs are.

“Oh my god,” I snort in sudden laughter, the absurdity of everything hitting me while staring down at the vivid pink puddle on the sheets. “Your cum is pink too!”

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