from both throats. Her inner lip pained minutely as he must’ve sliced it open, mingling their blood, and that’s when reality took a complete nosedive.
He stumbled, but caught it. The sword he’d been fashioning sounded like a casualty of his movement. Darcy heard it clattering as it fell somewhere. It was followed by a thud as what could be the anvil tumbled off its perch. An influx of heat and light came next, accompanied by a huge roar as if the fire had received a large infusion of oxygen. He might have stepped on his bellows thing. Or maybe he could control such things subconsciously. Whichever. She wasn’t checking.
Staying plastered to Thanos was too devastating: his kiss a blend of passion and bliss; the touch of skin too addictive; the sensations he put into play absolutely overwhelming. Her toga knot slipped. She helped unfasten it with one hand. The other stayed clenched in his hair. Holding him. Maintaining this. The craving was too overpowering. He must feel the same, for she felt him fumbling about at his waist, the move freeing him from his little skirt, and the next moment she was straddling his hips, and riding his rod. And he was massive. Thick. Hard.
Readied.
He yanked his head back from hers, breaking the kiss, sending droplets of red fluid with the motion, and flexing against her hold. She didn’t care. Her entire focus was on grabbing him. Working a hand along his shaft. Guiding. Positioning. Holding...and then engulfing. And nothing ever felt so wonderful!
Thanos must agree. The cry he put into the cavern sure sounded it. Especially as it ended with a hint of joy-filled laughter, and then a grunt, as he rammed against her loins and held her there. He brought his head back down, his eyes demanding her gaze. His eyes weren’t brown anymore, or even dark red. They were deepest black. And covered with a patina that glistened.
“I need you, Darcy.”
His mouth didn’t seem to move, but she heard it. And his voice was deep. Guttural. All-encompassing. She nodded, and a blink of time later, he was placing her onto linen-covered softness with the slightest give to it. Like a mattress. Atop a real bed. She’d check, but she wasn’t moving her gaze from him. Her entire sphere was just Thanos...and the sensations his body was giving her. She didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t even blink. Her eyes filled with the sight of his body pumping mercilessly into hers, each stroke delivering more sensation, more breadth, scope, making whatever structure they were atop creak in submission.
“You certain, my love? You must be sure.”
Uh oh. There was the l-word again. He’d said it. She heard it. But this time his lips didn’t seem to move at all. Not that she cared. His movements were too visceral, each thrust sending sensation atop sensation as he worked harder. Faster. And each one took breath as well as sanity.
She nodded and gripped her legs about his hips. Grasping. Clenching. Striving.
“Ah...Darcy, my love. My. One. True. Love.”
The last four words were separated. Distinct. And accompanied by the slow slide of his tongue along her neck. It didn’t match the rest of him. Thanos’ body continued pumping into hers, flexing her legs with each move, and ramping anticipation beyond containment.
“Oh, Thanos, yes! Yes! Yes!”
Darcy’s reply came amid slams of his body into hers. She was amazed it made sound. She barely felt him piercing flesh and then sucking. She couldn’t. Each thrust she met doled out pleasure on a scale beyond comprehension. It stole breath. Ignited starbursts. She slammed her eyes shut, somehow absorbing absolute ecstasy. Supreme bliss. Amazement. The experience didn’t just hit her; it filled and then zoomed outward like so many rockets. The room beyond her eyelids burst into brightness, showering both of them with fireworks, sparking with each contact, while her heart went into cardiac shock or something.
She’d never felt such wonder. And then it ratcheted
He stumbled, but caught it. The sword he’d been fashioning sounded like a casualty of his movement. Darcy heard it clattering as it fell somewhere. It was followed by a thud as what could be the anvil tumbled off its perch. An influx of heat and light came next, accompanied by a huge roar as if the fire had received a large infusion of oxygen. He might have stepped on his bellows thing. Or maybe he could control such things subconsciously. Whichever. She wasn’t checking.
Staying plastered to Thanos was too devastating: his kiss a blend of passion and bliss; the touch of skin too addictive; the sensations he put into play absolutely overwhelming. Her toga knot slipped. She helped unfasten it with one hand. The other stayed clenched in his hair. Holding him. Maintaining this. The craving was too overpowering. He must feel the same, for she felt him fumbling about at his waist, the move freeing him from his little skirt, and the next moment she was straddling his hips, and riding his rod. And he was massive. Thick. Hard.
Readied.
He yanked his head back from hers, breaking the kiss, sending droplets of red fluid with the motion, and flexing against her hold. She didn’t care. Her entire focus was on grabbing him. Working a hand along his shaft. Guiding. Positioning. Holding...and then engulfing. And nothing ever felt so wonderful!
Thanos must agree. The cry he put into the cavern sure sounded it. Especially as it ended with a hint of joy-filled laughter, and then a grunt, as he rammed against her loins and held her there. He brought his head back down, his eyes demanding her gaze. His eyes weren’t brown anymore, or even dark red. They were deepest black. And covered with a patina that glistened.
“I need you, Darcy.”
His mouth didn’t seem to move, but she heard it. And his voice was deep. Guttural. All-encompassing. She nodded, and a blink of time later, he was placing her onto linen-covered softness with the slightest give to it. Like a mattress. Atop a real bed. She’d check, but she wasn’t moving her gaze from him. Her entire sphere was just Thanos...and the sensations his body was giving her. She didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t even blink. Her eyes filled with the sight of his body pumping mercilessly into hers, each stroke delivering more sensation, more breadth, scope, making whatever structure they were atop creak in submission.
“You certain, my love? You must be sure.”
Uh oh. There was the l-word again. He’d said it. She heard it. But this time his lips didn’t seem to move at all. Not that she cared. His movements were too visceral, each thrust sending sensation atop sensation as he worked harder. Faster. And each one took breath as well as sanity.
She nodded and gripped her legs about his hips. Grasping. Clenching. Striving.
“Ah...Darcy, my love. My. One. True. Love.”
The last four words were separated. Distinct. And accompanied by the slow slide of his tongue along her neck. It didn’t match the rest of him. Thanos’ body continued pumping into hers, flexing her legs with each move, and ramping anticipation beyond containment.
“Oh, Thanos, yes! Yes! Yes!”
Darcy’s reply came amid slams of his body into hers. She was amazed it made sound. She barely felt him piercing flesh and then sucking. She couldn’t. Each thrust she met doled out pleasure on a scale beyond comprehension. It stole breath. Ignited starbursts. She slammed her eyes shut, somehow absorbing absolute ecstasy. Supreme bliss. Amazement. The experience didn’t just hit her; it filled and then zoomed outward like so many rockets. The room beyond her eyelids burst into brightness, showering both of them with fireworks, sparking with each contact, while her heart went into cardiac shock or something.
She’d never felt such wonder. And then it ratcheted
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