And without meaning to, Thalos' hands slid from her belly.
Gliding…
… up.
To cup the swollen weight of her breasts. He found them ripe. Full. Perfect little handfuls that spilled over his fingers when he kneaded the fat and found her nipples. Already beaded tight, already stiff enough to roll between forefinger and thumb.
Kore fell apart with a sob. Cunt seizing around them, she was a vice of muscle. Merciless and unyielding, banded tight, locking them both in place for one impossible moment before she ignited.
A blinding detonation of color lit her scales in a violent aurora.
Her spine arched, body bowed between them. Clenching and milking, she pulsed around them. Agonizing, slow pulls that forced Thalos’ head back.
Groaning, he mimicked her.
Milking her nipples in that same pattern. Long, deep pulls.
A plume of electric blue jetted into the current between kings.
Nyxarion froze.
Eyes wide, Thalos hesitated.
It was thick. Luminous. Creamy and sweet, curling through the current in intoxicating ribbons.
And for an instant, there was silence.
But it didn’t last.
The sound loosed from Nyxarion’s throat was triumph. A roar of pure, uncut celebration. Primal and deafening, it was a declaration of war and victory united in a single breath. A single, savage note that would carry throughout the Black Sea.
And then hemoved.
Hips driving forward with a ferocity that bordered on violence, he fucked into her. Desperate, claiming strokes that slammed through the crush of shared flesh and forced Thalos to brace. Clinging to the delicate Siren, made helpless by the strength of the other.
Enormous hands shoved Thalos' fingers aside when Nyx claimed her breasts for himself.
Greedy and frantic. Palms engulfing the swollen weight, he kneaded. More long pulls that dragged at her flesh.
A plume of blue milk spilled between his fingers.
Luminous. Unmistakable when it spiraled into the current and perfumed the tide with the lucious aroma of vibrant life. Each squeeze sent another jet spilling into the water.
“There’s my glorious girl,” Nyxarion snarled, laughing as he fucked her. Fucked them both. “Just needed time to make milk for me, did you?” he whispered, and pressed his forehead to her collarbone. But his hands didn’t stop. Milking her with a reverence that matched the tempo of his hips. “Perfect thing. Carrying my spawn, getting ready to nurse it like only anAbyssarimight.”
Thalos was pinned.
Every nerve in his body screaming for relief. Each of Nyxarion's thrusts drove them together, shaft to shaft, friction and heat and slick blended into something that washed him away and swept him under.
His orgasm hit without warning.
Twisting his spine, it fired through him in a cascade of blinding ecstasy. Forcing his every muscle rigid, locked tight. Thalos came so hard his vision dissolved into a wash of prickling nothing. Painting her cunt with a thick, desperate flood that had nowhere to go. Trapped against Nyxarion's shaft. Forced back around him in obscene, milky heat.
Instinct forced his jaws open.
Snarling through the wreckage of his composure, Thalos struck.
Fangs buried in the meat of Kore's shoulder—opposite to the space Nyxarion had claimed. He bit through scale and skin andemptied his venom sacs in a single, savage flood. Pumping her full. Giving her what the child demanded.