Page 41 of Sereis
He traced the arch of each foot with that impossible feather, and the sensation shot straight to my center like lightning finding ground. My body bowed completely off the bed, only the restraints keeping me in place as pleasure and frustration warred in every nerve. The aurora canopy above us had become a storm of color, reflecting my internal chaos in its wild dance.
"Perfect response," Sereis murmured, trailing the feather back up my other leg with the same deliberate pace. "Your transformed body is even more sensitive than I'd hoped. Every inch of you responsive, reactive, mine to play with as I choose."
By the time he'd completed his circuit, I was sobbing with need. My skin felt like one giant exposed nerve, hypersensitive to even the air currents in the room. The space between my thighs ached with emptiness, clenching around nothing while wetness covered my inner thighs. The restraints had become my only anchor, something solid to pull against while sensation threatened to dissolve me entirely.
"Look at you," Sereis said softly, setting the feather aside with careful precision. "Desperate and dripping and so perfectly mine."
The feather disappeared into whatever realm of possibility it had emerged from, dissolving between one breath and the next as Sereis turned his full attention to the aching need between my thighs. He moved with deliberate intent, shifting from beside the bed to between my spread legs, his hands settling on my inner thighs with possessive certainty.
"Now," he said, and that single word carried the weight of permission, promise, and threat all at once. "Now you get what you've been begging for so prettily."
His hands pressed my thighs wider, exposing me completely to his gaze. The vulnerability of it should have made me want to hide, but the look in his eyes—hungry, possessive, reverent—made me open further instead. Through our bond, I felt hisarousal spike at the sight, his satisfaction at how thoroughly he'd worked me into this state.
"So wet," he murmured, his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh and making me shiver. "So fucking wet."
The first touch of his tongue made me scream—not from pain but from pleasure so intense it obliterated thought. After all the teasing, all the light touches and denial, the firm pressure of his tongue against my clit was like lightning striking directly into my nervous system. My hips bucked hard enough that he had to pin them down, his forearm across my lower belly holding me in place while his mouth worked its devastation.
But then came the temperature play we'd discussed, and nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. His tongue, impossibly cool against my overheated flesh, traced patterns that made my vision fracture. The contrast was maddening—my body burning with need while his mouth brought winter to my most sensitive places. When he pulled back slightly to blow warm breath over where his cool tongue had just been, the sensation reversal made me sob.
"That's it," he murmured against me, the vibration of his words adding another layer of sensation. "Feel everything. Every contrast, every shift, every way I choose to play your body like an instrument only I know how to tune."
His tongue circled my clit with devastating precision, cool and firm and exactly what I needed, before switching to broad, warm strokes that made my thighs shake uncontrollably. The living ice restraints held firm as I pulled against them, my body trying to arch, to escape, to get closer, all at once.
"Such a good girl," he said between strokes, his praise washing over me like physical touch. "Taking everything I give you so beautifully. You were made for this, weren't you? Made to come apart under my mouth, made to submit to my control."
His fingers joined his mouth, sliding inside me with no resistance, my body so ready it practically pulled him in. The dual sensation—his cool tongue on my clit, his fingers working inside me—created a feedback loop through our bond. I could feel his satisfaction at my responses, his pleasure in my pleasure, the deep possessive need to make me come completely undone.
"Mine," he said against me, the word muffled but clear. "Every sound you make, every shudder, every drop of wetness—all mine. You'll never respond to another the way you respond to me. This body knows its master."
The praise and claiming words hit almost as hard as the physical sensation. My mind had gone hazy, floating in that space where thought became impossible and only feeling remained. The frost patterns on my skin blazed so bright they cast shadows on the walls, pulsing in rhythm with my climbing arousal.
He shifted his approach, his tongue now tracing the frost patterns that decorated my inner thighs, following them up to where they converged at my core. When his cool tongue traced the raised design directly, something electric happened—the patterns themselves became conduits for pleasure, sending sensation through every connected line across my body. I felt it in the marks on my arms, my throat, my stomach, all of them lighting up in sympathetic response.
"Perfect," he breathed, and then his mouth was on my clit again, sucking gently while his tongue flicked against it with quick, precise movements. His fingers curled inside me, finding that spot that made my entire body lock up with pleasure. "That's my good girl. So close now, aren't you? So ready to shatter for me?"
I was. The pressure had built to impossible levels, every nerve ending screaming for release. My body trembled on the edge,held there by his skill and control, waiting for permission I didn't know if I needed but my mind insisted I did.
"Please," I gasped, the word broken by desperate breaths. "Please, Daddy, please let me—"
The title slipped out without thought, but I felt his response through the bond—a spike of possessive pleasure that made his own control waver.
"Come for me," he commanded against my flesh. "Now, little one. Let go."
The permission destroyed what little control I had left. The orgasm crashed through me with the force of an avalanche, making my entire body convulse against the restraints. I screamed his name—not Daddy this time but "Sereis!"—as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me. The aurora canopy above us went wild, colors spinning and merging in patterns that matched the chaos in my nervous system.
He didn't stop, didn't ease up, his mouth and fingers working me through it with the same methodical precision he'd used to bring me there. The orgasm seemed to last forever, each wave triggering another, the frost patterns on my skin flaring so bright that even through closed eyelids I could see their light.
When I finally collapsed, boneless and gasping, tears were streaming down my face from the intensity. My body felt like it had been unmade and reformed, every nerve ending still singing with aftershocks.
"Beautiful," Sereis murmured, pressing a gentler kiss to my oversensitized flesh that made me whimper and twitch. "Absolutely perfect. And we're not done yet."
The restraints dissolved into glittering vapor while I still floated in the aftershocks, my wrists suddenly free but too heavy to move, my entire body limp with satisfaction that ran bone-deep. Every nerve ending still sparked with occasional tremors, little earthquakes of pleasure that made me twitch and gasp. ButSereis wasn't finished—I could feel it through our bond, his need raging against his control like winter storms against glass.
He stood with that fluid grace, and finally, finally began to undress. Each button of his shirt revealed more pale skin marked with frost patterns that matched mine, silver-white traceries that caught the aurora light and threw it back doubled. His chest was lean muscle over elegant bones, built for speed and grace rather than brute strength. When his pants followed, my breath caught at the evidence of his need—he was hard enough that it had to be painful, his cock flushed and straining, a pearl of precum catching the light at its tip.
"I've been patient," he said, moving onto the bed with predatory intent. The mattress dipped under his weight, the cloud-silk sheets whispering against his skin as he positioned himself between my still-spread thighs. "Controlled. Disciplined. But now—" His hands gripped my hips, lifting them slightly, aligning us with careful precision. "Now I'm going to claim what's mine completely."
The first touch of him against my entrance made us both groan. After his cool tongue, his cock felt almost burning hot, the contrast making my oversensitized flesh spark with renewed need. He pressed forward slowly, controlled, but I could feel through our bond how much that control cost him. His jaw was locked, tendons standing out in his neck, his fingers gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks that would bloom like winter flowers.
