Chapter 12: Limitation Tested
She collapsed onto his chest, a slick, trembling weight. The room echoed with their ragged breaths. Elliot could feel her heart hammering against his ribs, a wild twin to his own. The taste of her was stark on his lips, her release cooling on his cheeks and chin.
After a moment, she pushed herself up, sliding back down his body until she was straddling his waist. She left a warm, wet trail across his skin. She looked down at him, her eyes dark and glazed, a satisfied, almost feral curve to her mouth. His arousal, painfully neglected, lay against his stomach, twitching at the proximity of her bare thighs.
She leaned forward, her pink hair curtaining their faces. Her tongue, soft and deliberate, licked a stripe from his chin to his cheekbone, cleaning her own slickness from his skin. The intimacy of the act, the casual ownership in it, made his hips jerk upwards involuntarily.
As she kissed his freshly cleaned mouth, her bare feet, still dangling near his knees, brushed against his shaft. Once. Twice. A casual, maddening friction.
He groaned into her mouth. “Luna.”
“Hmm?” She nipped at his lower lip, her feet still moving in lazy, teasing strokes.
“If you keep that up,” he breathed, his hands finding her hips and squeezing, “I am going to lose every ounce of control I have left. You’ll be walking funny for a week.”
A wicked grin spread across her face. The challenge lit her up from inside. “Promises, promises,” she whispered, her voice husky.
She increased the pressure, the rhythm. The soles of her feet were soft but deliberate, rubbing him with a focused, torturous pace. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on his chest, and looked directly into his eyes. Her gaze was unwavering, full of dare and a deep, shared knowledge. This wasn't LunarNova performing. This was Luna, claiming him.
It shattered him.
With a growl that came from somewhere primal, his hands shot from her hips to under her thighs. He yanked her forward and up in one brutal motion, impaling her on his length. She cried out, a sharp sound of pure surprise and pleasure, as he filled her completely.
“You asked for it,” he rasped, his voice thick and foreign to his own ears.
He didn’t wait for her to adjust. He bucked his hips up, driving into her, his grip on her thighs iron-tight. The headboard cracked against the wall with the force of it. The comic panels rattled in their frames.
“Is this—” he grunted, pounding up into her, “—what you wanted? Huh? You want me to ruin you? To fucking own you?”
“Yes!” she shrieked, her nails scratching down his chest. Her head was thrown back, her body bouncing violently with each of his thrusts. “God, yes! Just like that! Don’t you dare stop!”
“I can feel you everywhere,” he snarled, the graphic, dirty talk flowing out of him like a broken dam. It was raw, unfiltered, a side of him neither of them knew existed. “I can smell you on my skin. I can taste you. You’re mine. All this. Every fucked-up, perfect, crying, laughing inch of you. Mine.”
Her only responses were shattered moans, her body clutching him tighter with each driving claim. The world narrowed to the slam of their bodies, the wet slap of skin, the creak of the bed, their voices raw in the dark.
He felt the terrifying, electric tingle begin to coil at the base of his spine. His rhythm became frantic, desperate. “I’m close,” he warned, his words slamming out between gasps. “I want… I want to come on your feet. Let me see it on you.”
For a second, she stilled above him, her eyes meeting his through a sweat-drenched haze. Then, with a sharp nod, she pushed off him, sliding his length out of her with a gasp. She scrambled down the bed, onto her back between his legs.
She lifted her feet, presenting her soles to him. They were pale and delicate in the dim LED light.
His control snapped. He fisted himself, his strokes rough and fast, his eyes locked on her face, then on her feet. “Touch them,” he demanded, his voice breaking.
She obeyed instantly, wrapping her feet around him, the soft arches and balls of her feet creating a startling, perfect friction. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt—intimate, weird, profoundly erotic.
“Look at me,” she breathed, her toes flexing against his shaft. “Let me see you.”
The permission, the sheer audacity of her, undid him completely. With a choked, guttural cry, his orgasm ripped through him. He came in hot, pulsing streaks across the delicate arches of her feet, painting her skin white. She kept moving her feet, milking him through every last shudder, her eyes wide and drinking in the sight of him breaking apart for her.
She kept moving her feet, milking him through every last shudder, her eyes wide and drinking in the sight of him breaking apart for her. A profound quiet, thick and humming, settled over the room. Their breath was the only sound, loud in the sudden stillness.
Elliot’s head dropped forward, his body spent but his mind a chaotic spark. He looked at her feet, glazed and marked. A low, possessive sound rumbled in his chest. He wasn’t done. The need was a live wire under his skin, feral and insistent.
“I made you a promise,” he said, his voice a ragged scrape. He lifted his gaze to hers. The look in his eyes was entirely new—dark, focused, absolute. “You won’t be walking in the morning.”
Before she could answer, he moved. His hands hooked behind her knees, pushing her legs up and back towards her shoulders. In one fluid, frustrated motion, she reached down, grabbed the torn lace of the one-piece still tangled at her waist, and ripped it the rest of the way off. The delicate fabric was tossed to the floor with a dismissive flick of her wrist.
He drove into her again, deep and punishing. The angle was new, devastating. Her hands flew above her head, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden headboard. She gripped it, her knuckles bleaching white with the strain.
“Look at you,” he growled, his rhythm relentless, each thrust jolting her body up the bed. “My gorgeous, messy girl. All mine.”
His eyes dropped to her feet, still resting near his shoulders. He leaned down, his tongue finding the inside of her arch. He licked a slow, deliberate stripe through the cooling evidence of his own release. The salt-bitter taste was electric, a circuit closing.
Luna moaned, a long, shuddering sound of pure shock and pleasure. The intimacy of the act, its raw filth, unlocked something in her throat. “God, you’re disgusting,” she gasped, her head thrashing side to side. “I love it. Do it again. Taste yourself on me.”
He did, his tongue cleaning her skin with a rough devotion that made her back arch. The dirty talk poured from her, unbidden and desperate. “You feel so deep. You’re gonna make me come just like this. Just from you licking your cum off my feet while you’re inside me. Elliot, please—”
Her plea cracked into a sharp cry as the sensation overloaded her. Her body clenched around him, a sudden, violent ripple that made his vision blur. She sobbed his name, her grip on the headboard threatening to splinter the wood.
He wasn’t done.
When her climax subsided into tremors, he pulled out. He flipped her onto her stomach with a force that was almost violent. He covered her, his body a heavy, sweating blanket. One arm snaked around her throat, not squeezing yet, just holding. The pressure was a claiming.
“Say it,” he demanded into her ear, his hips grinding against her.
“Fuck me harder,” she rasped, pushing back against him. “Please. I need it. I need you to ruin me for anyone else.”
His forearm tightened. Just enough to restrict, to remind her of his strength. She gasped, the sound choked and eager. “Elliot!”
He entered her from behind, a final, brutal possession. Each drive was a punctuation mark. She screamed his name into the rumpled sheets, the sound muffled but ferocious. He fucked her through the resistance of his own arm, through her choked pleas for more, until his release tore through him with a force that felt like annihilation. He spilled deep, his whole body shuddering as he held her there, pinned and utterly possessed.
He collapsed beside her, his arm falling away. The silence returned, but it was different now—charged, satisfied, complete. The only movement was the frantic rise and fall of their ribs, struggling for air. Slowly, he turned his head on the pillow to look at her. A strand of pink hair was stuck to her damp, tear-streaked cheek.