Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 52: Torn **

Even after the bond had settled, her name etched into his beating heart, Arkai felt it. The sensation of being the other man. The one who coveted.

Perhaps it was the impossibility of it all. The understanding that without Cecilia’s divine power and Oathran’s pragmatic love, he would still be on the outside, looking in with a hunger that had no right to be sated.

Because of that, this entire act felt like he was...

...fucking the cunt of a married woman with the tip of his cock.

The cunt of the Dragon Lord’s wife.

The cunt of his own nephew’s former wife.

The cunt of a holy Saintess.

Just the tangled threads of her identity was enough to fry his brain. The taboo of it all, addictive sin in the tip of his—

And to fuck her in the presence of her husband, her first real mate—

But that wasn’t all. Cecilia’s hand reached down. Even with her throat occupied, she found him. Her fingers wrapped around him, grasping. Firm strokes like a demand and a gift, and then she pulled, subtle and insistent, trying to draw him deeper.

This woman—was she so determined to have her cunt breached tonight?

As she pulled him in, he mustered every ounce of his fraying will to pull back, retreating until only that single, torturous inch remained, before the tide of sensation would crash over him and he’d surge forward again to reclaim it.

"Aaaaahhh—Saintess, stop—"

Arkai was torn. The agony of denial and the ecstasy of that shallow, repeating surrender...

Oathran, above them, felt a strange tingling at the base of his skull. He didn’t consciously understand it yet, but the Sense Sharing bond between him and Cecilia was transmitting a sensory double-image.

He felt the overwhelming fullness of his own cock within her throat, and simultaneously, the teasing, stretching, prodding pressure at her entrance. The feeling of her hymen being kissed, spread and parted, but not yet breached.

He saw, through his blurred vision, the rhythmic motion of Arkai’s retreat and advance, and felt the corresponding deep, internal rhythm of his own.

Dazed by the feedback loop, the Dragon Lord’s hand moved almost unconsciously. He grasped his other cock, the one resting against her neck, and began to press, choke and stroke it alongside the column of her throat.

The words she had whispered to him once echoed in his mind. If this continued, he would have his semen spilling all over her breasts while another man witnessed it.

Bad. Bad move.

Because now, superimposed over the reality before him, was the memory. The recent image of Cecilia, her hair and face streaked with his cum just days prior. And now—now the fantasy fused with reality. The vision of his semen all over her unblemished, plump and perky ti—

"My Saintess’ tits—" Oathran’s dazed grin was one of madness. Both of his hands came up to grasp her breasts, kneading them with a frantic pressure.

As he did, Arkai’s mouth descended. He took what Oathran’s hands pushed together into one, sucking both peaks into the heat of his mouth with a wet, sloppy, obscene noise.

"Kgh—nghh! Ahg—Gggkk!"

Cecilia’s mind shattered. The sensory overload was absolute, a circuit breaker blowing. The relentless, shallow friction of Arkai at her entrance, the dual assault on her breasts, one by hands, one by mouth, the deep, claiming fullness in her throat...

Her throat. Her clit. Her cunt. Her breasts.

It was soon.

Too soon.

So fucking soo—

White.

"Aaaaahhh—fucki—"

"Gngh—nghh!"

SPLURT! SPLURT!

"FUC—"

Cecilia wasn’t conscious when it happened. In the split-second cataclysm of her own orgasm, she was covered in semen.

Arkai pulled back sharply, his own semen spilling over the trembling plane of her stomach. Oathran withdrew in a shuddering gasp, his cum streaking across her face just as he’d remembered, while the other found its mark on her heaving chest, exactly as his fevered mind had pictured.

The two men, in their own obliterating release, hadn’t yet registered her lapse into unconsciousness. Well, they hadn’t registered much of anything either. Their minds were equally blank, white-static voids of spent sensation. They were only marginally more present than she was.

"Saintess...?" Oathran’s voice was hoarse and worried. The dragon in him instantly shifted from possessor to protector. He cradled her head, lifting it gently from the edge of the bed, his fingers checking for the flutter of breath at her lips.

His concerned eyes scanned her face. Worried his cum would land in her eye, he used the clean edge of his own sleeve to gently and meticulously wipe her eyelids and cheeks.

Arkai, meanwhile, was frozen a few feet away, his own horror quite a cold splash in the aftermath of heat. He couldn’t believe his own loss of control. He had almost spilled himself inside that single, shallow, forbidden inch.

The thought of it, of crossing that line in a moment of blind ecstasy, made his stomach clench with a guilt that was almost pious.

"Get a grip of yourself, Arkai. Help me wipe her clean," Oathran commanded as he gathered Cecilia’s limp form fully into his lap, holding her against his chest.

The order shook Arkai from his stupor. He moved on instinct, turning to fetch towels from the nearby washstand. When he returned, the sight on the bed stopped him short.

Oathran held her close, but his head was bent. He was kissing her. Slowly, deeply. The tender kiss spoke of a hunger now diluted by worry. He was tasting his own semen on her mouth, cleansing it with a reverence that made Arkai’s chest ache.

Arkai wanted to kiss her too. So gods-damned badly.

He saw Oathran’s hand lift, fingers beckoning without the dragon even looking up from her lips. Arkai placed a soft towel into that waiting hand. Oathran accepted it, but only laid it over the evidence on her stomach before his hand came up again, beckoning once more, more insistently.

"...should I get you warm water...?" Arkai asked.

"No, you little shit," Oathran murmured against Cecilia’s mouth before breaking the kiss just enough to speak. He finally looked at Arkai. "Come and give her a kiss."

Arkai felt a blush burn its way from his neck to the roots of his hair. It was ridiculous. After everything they’d just done, this was what made him feel exposed.

"There’s some of my semen on her, but perhaps you don’t mi—"

"Shut up!" Arkai hissed, the embarrassment sharp.

He moved then, lowering himself to the edge of the bed. He cupped Cecilia’s cool cheek, tilted her face just so, and pressed his lips to hers.

It was a desperate kiss, full of all the pent-up longing and awe and guilt he couldn’t voice. She was breathing, soft puffs of air against his skin, but deeply unconscious. Ah—their first true kiss, and she wasn’t even awake to receive it.

Fucking—

It felt taboo all over again. A stolen sweetness. A secret pressed upon sleeping lips. And yet, with Oathran’s watchful gaze upon him and the taste of the dragon still on her mouth mixing with his own, it also felt like the most honest, complicated thing he had ever done.

He couldn’t possibly stop now.