The pressure mounted, a relentless, exhilarating climb.
Kyouya's groans grew louder, more guttural, losing all semblance of control.
His body tensed, muscles coiling, as if trying to contain the force building within him. Mei, driven by her singular, primal need, intensified her efforts.
Her head bobbed faster, her throat working with a desperate efficiency, pulling him deeper, her chest pressing, her hands squeezing with a focused determination.
Suddenly, Kyouya-sama's hips bucked, a violent tremor shaking his entire frame.
A raw, animalistic cry tore from his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. Mei felt the first gush, hot and thick, filling her mouth. It was a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced – warm, viscous, and abundant.
But it didn't stop.
Wave after wave of his essence pulsed into her, a continuous, seemingly endless rope of his very being. Mei's eyes widened in genuine shock. Her cheeks stretched, her throat struggled to keep up, but still, it kept coming.
The sheer volume was staggering, far beyond what she had anticipated. Each pump felt like an insistent demand, filling her completely, pushing the boundaries of what her body could hold. She heard the wet, rhythmic sounds, punctuated by his strained grunts, as his body continued to seize and release, pumping more and more.
Her own body began to convulse with sympathetic tremors, a wild, echoing pleasure born from the sheer, overwhelming generosity of his release. She was drowning in him, consumed by the sheer force of his climax.
The metallic taste of him, thick and potent, flooded her senses.
Mei had sought his load, but she had not, in her innocent hunger, anticipated this boundless torrent. It was magnificent, overwhelming, and utterly, shockingly endless.
Her mind reeled, her eyes still wide with surprise as his very essence poured into her, an unending stream of liquid proof of his power and his complete surrender.
As the last throbs subsided and the seemingly endless flow finally tapered, Kyouya-sama collapsed back against the pillows, panting, utterly spent.
Mei remained kneeling before him, her face slick, her throat aching, but her eyes bright with a strange mix of awe and satisfaction.
She let out a soft, sated sigh, a sound of genuine contentment.
"Kyouya-sama," she murmured, her voice husky, almost reverent. She gazed at him, at his still-aroused and now glistening length.
"That was... truly amazing."
Without a moment of hesitation, her lips began to trace the damp skin of his length, a warm, insistent glide from base to tip. Her tongue followed, swirling and licking, meticulously cleaning every curve, every ridge.
She gulped, swallowing every last trace of his essence, her devotion absolute.
She worked with an almost clinical precision, yet with an undeniable sensuality, until his length was squeaky clean, without a single trace remaining. Each soft, wet sound of her diligent cleaning filled the room.
Kyouya-sama, watching her, was frozen. His eyes were wide, a complex mix of terror and profound amazement warring in their depths.
The sight of her, so utterly consumed by him, so dedicated to his complete purification, was both horrifying and utterly mesmerizing.
He had never imagined such a display of fervent, unquestioning devotion. She wasn't just performing an act; she was experiencing it, embracing it with an innocence that made her blunt hunger all the more shocking.
It was a revelation, a new piece of data he hadn't known he needed to categorize.
He could only stare, breathless, at the spectacle before him in the humid air.
"You are a monster,"
Kyouya-sama finally managed to rasp, his voice hoarse, still laced with disbelief and a hint of something akin to fear. His eyes were wide, fixed on her, taking in her slick face and the undeniable satisfaction radiating from her.
Mei merely responded with a playful smile, a soft, mischievous curve of her lips that spoke volumes of her unrepentant joy. With a languid, graceful movement, she shifted her body, no longer kneeling, but instead, she gently laid herself on top of his chest.
Her soft weight settled comfortably against him, her head resting just beneath his chin. She savored the warmth of his skin, the strong, steady beat of his heart against her ear.
She basked in the afterglow, a delicious languor seeping into her limbs, completely unconcerned by the academic papers that lay haphazardly scattered around them on the bed, remnants of the very task he had been so determined to focus on just moments ago.
Those intellectual pursuits seemed trivial now, easily forgotten in the wake of such profound, physical data. The humid air, thick with the scent of their shared passion, seemed to hold them suspended in their private, content bubble.