Chapter 910: Embers (R-18)

Vergil’s kiss was possessive, his tongue invading Hela’s mouth with a hunger that made her fingers dig into his broad shoulders. She answered in kind, biting his lower lip until she tasted the metallic tang of blood—a flavor that made them both groan softly, a mixture of pain and pleasure that ignited something primal between them.

Vergil slid his hands over her body, from her firm breasts and hardened nipples down to the curve of her hips, gripping her pale flesh hard enough to leave marks. Hela arched against him, feeling the relentless pressure of his muscular body, his arousal obvious and insistent against her thigh.

"I’ve waited so long for this," she whispered against his lips, her voice hoarse. "For ages of loneliness... for a touch that wasn’t cold."

He did not answer with words. Instead, his hands moved down her thighs, spreading them with a determination that allowed no resistance. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his erection pressing against her entrance—still untouched, still closed.

Hela held her breath. Her green eyes, now dark with desire, locked onto his blue ones. There was a moment of raw vulnerability there, a tremor passing through her body. She, the Lady of Death, the merciless ruler of Helheim... untouched.

Vergil saw it. He stopped, his face only inches from hers.

"Hela..."

"Do it," she ordered, her voice regaining its firmness even though her fingers trembled where they gripped his arms. "Don’t treat me like blown glass. I don’t break."

He tilted his head and, with a slow, deliberate movement, began to enter her.

Shhhlick...

A wet, intimate sound filled the air. Hela let out a deep, rough moan—"Ahhh...!"—as the tip of him opened her. The sensation was intense, a mixture of burning pressure and fullness she could never have imagined. Her inner muscles tightened involuntarily around him, trying to adapt.

Vergil stopped again, his face tense with the effort of controlling himself. His temples throbbed.

"By Niflhel... you’re so tight..."

"Stop talking and take me," she growled, burying her face in his neck, her teeth scraping his skin.

He obeyed.

With one firm, controlled thrust of his hips, he pushed fully inside her.

Thump.

The sound of their bodies meeting, the mattress giving beneath the impact.

Hela cried out—a guttural, unfiltered sound of pain and pleasure. The sensation of being filled, invaded, pierced by him was overwhelming. A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, but her smile was one of wild triumph.

Finally.

Finally.

Vergil remained still for a moment, allowing her to adjust, feeling her inner contractions massage every inch of him.

Then he began to move.

Slap... slap... slap...

The rhythm was slow at first, but deep. Every collision of his hips against hers produced a wet, fleshy sound. Every inward movement made Hela moan—"Ngh! Ah! Vergil!"—and every outward movement made her pull him back with her heels against his glutes.

"More... harder," she demanded, her nails scratching his back. "I’m not some fragile mortal!"

A growl escaped Vergil’s throat.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the sheets, changing his angle.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The rhythm accelerated, becoming harder, more relentless. The sound of skin striking skin echoed through the luxurious suite. The bed creaked in protest, her moans mixing with his.

Hela was completely overwhelmed beneath him, her body arched, receiving each thrust with a rough, breathless moan.

"That’s... it..." she whispered between impacts, her eyes glazed. "Like that... make me feel... alive!"

Vergil released her wrists and grabbed her hips, lifting her to meet each thrust with greater force.

The sight of her beneath him—hair spread everywhere, breasts bouncing, lips swollen and parted—was intoxicating.

Squelsh... squelsh...

The wet, obscene sound of their bodies joining grew louder, dirtier. Her slickness wrapped around him, making the frantic movement easier.

Then he found a place inside her that made her eyes widen.

"There! There! Don’t stop, please, don’t st— AHHHH!"

He targeted that spot without mercy, his own pleasure building like a storm in his lower body. His breathing was a roar in her ear.

"You’re mine," he growled, his teeth against her earlobe. "My queen. My hell. My pleasure."

The words, combined with the relentless assault of his body, became the final spark.

Hela’s second orgasm hit without warning, but with twice the violence of the first.

"VERGIL!"

Her scream echoed against the windows. Her body convulsed, her inner muscles tightening and pulsing around him like a hot, wet fist.

The sight of her breaking apart in pure ecstasy, the uncontrollable tremors running through her body...

It was too much for him.

With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself completely inside her and came.

"Grrrnnngh!"

His growl was muffled against the curve of her neck. His hips spasmed, pumping his hot release inside her, filling her in a way that sent another shiver through her already sensitive body.

For long moments, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the occasional creak of the bed.

The smell of sex and salty sweat hung heavily in the air.

Exhausted, Vergil collapsed beside her, but immediately pulled her against his sweaty body.

Hela curled into him, her head on his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat slowly settle.

She was sore, trembling, completely ruined.

And she had never been more satisfied.

With one shaking finger, she traced one of the scratches she had left across his chest.

"So..." she whispered, her voice unrecognizably hoarse. "That’s what it feels like."

Vergil kissed her damp forehead.

"It’s only the beginning," he promised, his voice low with exhaustion and possessiveness. "The night is long. And the flames... have only started burning."

Vergil’s promise lingered in the hot, heavy air.

Hela felt his words not only with her ears, but in every fiber of her body, still throbbing and sensitive.

A slow smile, heavy with intent, curved her swollen lips.

"Beginning?" she whispered, her hand sliding down from his chest, over his tense abdomen, until she found him still half-hard and wet with their mixed fluids.

"Then let’s continue."

She felt him harden immediately beneath her touch, a low grunt leaving his throat.

Without rushing, Hela slipped out of his embrace and knelt on the bed.

The faint light of Venice illuminated her pale body, the marks of his hands on her hips, the scratches across her back.

She was a vision of power and violent sensuality.

Vergil remained lying back, supported on his elbows, watching her with blue eyes that gleamed in the darkness.

The hunger was still there.

Only contained.

Waiting.

"You said I was on fire," she murmured, her voice a silky promise. "Let’s see who can burn the other first."

With deliberate movements, she positioned herself above him.

With one hand, she guided his rigid, swollen tip to her entrance, still throbbing, sore, and incredibly wet.

She held his gaze as she lowered herself.

Squelch.

The sound was deep and satisfying.

She took him completely, inch by inch, closing her eyes for a second in the ecstasy of being filled again.

Inside, she could still feel the heat of his earlier release, and the sensation of being stretched and full made her moan softly.

Vergil let out a rough sound, his hands gripping her hips, fingers digging into her flesh.

"Hela..."

She opened her eyes, pure mischief shining in them.

"Don’t talk," she ordered, her voice firm. "Just feel."

Then she began to move.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

The first movements were slow and controlled.

She rose until she almost released him, feeling the tip of him at her entrance, then lowered herself again, taking him with a smooth roll of her hips.

Every descent was accompanied by a breathless sigh from her, every rise by a rough moan from him.

But Hela’s patience, even after ages, had limits.

Pleasure built into unbearable pressure in her lower abdomen.

Her inner muscles contracted around him, squeezing and massaging.

"More..." she whispered, whether to herself or to him was unclear.

The rhythm changed.

It became faster.

More urgent.

Slap-slap-slap!

She rode him with fierce determination, her breasts bouncing with the frantic motion.

Her black hair clung to her sweaty skin, her face a mask of concentration and absolute pleasure.

The sound of their skin meeting filled the room, wet and obscene.

"You’re... so deep..." she moaned, throwing her head back, the graceful curve of her neck exposed.

Vergil could no longer remain passive.

With a growl, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her.

The new position allowed him to penetrate even deeper, and Hela’s cry was one of pure ecstasy.

He grabbed her ass, helping her, guiding her, meeting each of her downward movements with a powerful upward thrust.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Now they were two bodies moving in fierce synchronization.

The bed struck the wall with force.

Hela’s moans were continuous, a stream of rough, broken sounds.

"Yes! There! Exactly there! Don’t stop, Vergil, please, don’t stop!"

He was hitting that perfect place inside her without error, every thrust sending waves of fire through her veins.

The sight of her on his lap, completely lost in pleasure, dominating him while being dominated, was the most erotic thing he had ever seen.

"Who is possessing whom now, my queen?" he growled into her ear, his teeth biting her earlobe.

"I... I have you..." she panted, her movements becoming less coordinated, more desperate. "You’re... all mine... inside me... ah, gods!"

Her orgasm was approaching, a massive wave about to break.

She could feel it in every tremor, every involuntary contraction.

"Vergil, I’m going to... I’m going to come...!"

"Then come," he ordered, his voice rough with tension. "Come around me. Let me feel you fall apart."

That was the permission she needed.

With a muffled cry against his shoulder, Hela came.

Her entire body went rigid, then exploded into violent tremors.

Squirtch-squelch-squelch!

The wet, chaotic sound of her internal spasms around him was loud and unmistakable.

The wave of pleasure was so intense that her vision darkened at the edges.

Feeling her muscles pulsing and squeezing him in a way that was almost painfully good, Vergil’s control broke.

"HELA!"

His roar was primal.

With one final, deep upward thrust, holding her tight against him, he came.

Pump-pump-pump-gush.

He could feel each hot burst flooding her inside, filling her again, mixing with her own fluids.

His hips spasmed involuntarily as he emptied himself into her.

She collapsed against his chest, completely weak, trembling, gasping.

He wrapped his arms around her, his own limbs heavy, his breathing ragged.

For a long time, the only sound was their breathing.

The smell of sex was even stronger now, more animal.

Slowly, sensation returned.

Hela felt him still inside her, beginning to soften.

She felt the warm wetness running between her thighs.

She felt his heart pounding furiously against her ear.

She raised her head with difficulty.

Her green eyes met his, and in them was a deep, wild, satisfied peace he had never seen before.

"So..." she whispered, her voice completely hoarse. "That’s what it means to possess."

Vergil let out a low, rough laugh, a sound of pure exhaustion and satisfaction.

He laid her on her side, still tangled together, and pulled the sheets over them.

"The flames," he murmured, his eyes already closing, "didn’t go out. They just... faded into embers."

Hela snuggled closer, a feeling of warmth and complete fullness surrounding her.

"Embers," she agreed, her fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest, "are all you need to start an even bigger fire."