100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids-Chapter 368 - 367 - Mother Playing Hide and Stuffed Mouth
’That blunt head nudging against a place that feels different now. Tender and overfull and somehow more sensitive than before— like he opened something in me that has no intention of closing. Like my body already knows what just happened to it and is making room for it.’
His mouth dropped back to her breast.
Not the teasing drag of before—the full deliberate seal of his lips around her nipple, tongue working a slow rhythmic pull that immediately drew a fresh wet trickle against his lips.
"Hnn—" The sound tore out of her half-muffled, her head pressing back against the wall. "Viktor—"
PAH. PAH.
He set a pace. Unhurried. Like he had all the time in the world.
’He is moving through his own release inside me. I can feel the obscene wet slide of it— the slick heat of what he filled me with coating every inch of the push and pull, every stroke making a sound I have no name for, and my body is responding to that sound in ways I refuse to examine—’
"Mm~!! Nghh~!! Hahh~!!"
His mouth worked her breast with the same rhythm as his hips.
The pull of his lips. The grind of his pelvis. The hot slick drag of him through the mess he’d made of her insides—every sensation layering over the last until her whole body was a single trembling exposed nerve.
’I am going to come again. There is nothing I can do about it. My body has stopped accepting instructions and started issuing them.’
PAH. PAH. PAAAH!
"Oungh~!! NGH~!! HIEKK~!!"
Her thigh slipped against his hip and he caught it, hauling her leg higher, the angle change driving him against that deep interior point at a slant that made her vision fracture at the edges.
’There. That exact place— the thick blunt head pressing my deepest wall at that angle and my womb is clenching— pulling— I am trying to drag him deeper and he is already as deep as anything has ever been inside me—’
"Viktor—" Her voice was gone. Just breath. "I can’t—"
He bit down on her nipple.
Not hard. Just enough. Just the precise measure of pressure that sent a sharp bright line of sensation straight down from her chest to where his cock was grinding into her—
"AAAHH—!!"
She buried the sound in his hair, both hands fisting there, her whole body shaking in his grip like something being wrung completely dry.
PAH. PAH. PAH!
Faster now.
Short deep punishing thrusts that slapped her ass against his pelvis with each snap of his hips—breasts swinging with every drive, nipples dragging against his jaw as he worked his mouth between one and the other, drawing milk from each.
"Hahh~!! Mm~!! NGHH~!!"
’Both. He is taking both of them. The wet trail his mouth leaves between my nipples— the pull and release— and the thing inside me pounding against walls that are already sore and somehow more sensitive for being sore—’
His mouth sealed over her breast again. Hard.
A deep pulling draw that had her back arching off the wall, her chest pressing forward into him like her own body was offering, like it had decided this was its purpose and she was the last one to know.
PAH. PAAAH!
"HNGhh~!! Oungh~!!"
’The pressure in my chest releasing in the same wave as the pressure building below— the milk leaving me through his mouth at the same rhythm as my walls clenching around him— I am losing track of which sensation belongs to which part of me—’
The milk came freely now.
She could feel it—the release in her chest matching each pull of his lips, her body giving him what he was taking in a way that felt impossibly, maddeningly connected to the cock still driving into her from below.
’He is taking everything. My milk and my body and whatever the strange warm settling thing in my womb is that I do not want to name yet. He is taking it all and my body keeps producing more to give him.’
Viktor groaned against her breast.
Low. Barely audible. The first break in his composure she’d heard tonight—muffled against the flushed hot skin of her chest—and the sound of it did something to her that she had no rational defense against.
PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH!
"Hahh~!! NGH~!! AAhh~!! HIIKK~!!"
’He is close. I can feel the difference— the thick length of him swelling slightly, the thrusts losing their precision and becoming something more urgent, his grip under my ass tightening past bruising into something that will leave marks I will have to explain to no one because I will not be explaining them to anyone—’
She wrapped both arms around his head.
Pressed him into her breast. Her face buried in his hair, muffling the sounds that kept escaping her—wet broken things that bore no resemblance to the woman who had greeted him at the door this evening.
"Viktor—" Just a breath. Just his name. "Viktor—"
He drove in. Full depth. Held.
His teeth closed around her nipple—firm, deliberate—the pressure sending that sharp bright line of sensation straight through her chest and down—
And then his hips snapped forward. Three times. Hard.
PAH. PAH. PAH!
"MM~!! AANGH~!! NGHhh~!!"
’The womb. The hot flood again— the immediate deep heat of him releasing a second time, pulsing against walls that are clenching and pulling and my body is taking every pulse of it, milking him, greedy and shameless and nothing I am thinking has any effect on what my body is doing—’
’I can feel it sitting there. In me. Deep in me. The heat of two releases pooled against my womb and something on the other side of a door I did not open— clicking into place.’
The warmth spread differently this time.
Not outward. Inward. Deeper. Heat settling into something below muscle, below bone.
’The key in the lock again. But this time it turned all the way. And whatever was on the other side of that door— I felt it open. I felt it open and I cannot close it again.’
Her whole body shuddered.
A long full-body thing—thighs locked around him, breasts pressed against his mouth, insides gripping and releasing in slow rolling waves that would not stop.
Viktor’s mouth went still against her breast.
His breathing, against her skin, was the most human she’d heard it—uneven, with actual weight behind it, the controlled quiet of him cracked open by something genuine pressing through.
He lifted his head slowly.
Lips wet with her milk. Eyes dark and warm and carrying that thing she still didn’t have a word for and was not prepared to find in his face right now, in this room, with her daughter thirty feet below.
’He looks at me like I am something he has been waiting to find. I do not know what to do with that. I do not know what to do with any of this. Something is happening inside me that has nothing to do with the sex anymore and I am not ready for what it means.’
She pressed one hand against his chest.
Not pushing. Just— a hand there. Feeling his heartbeat. Feeling it faster than it should be for a man who looks that composed.
’His heart is not composed. I notice that.’
She opened her mouth to speak—
Click.
Small. Quiet. The particular mechanical precision of a door latch disengaging.
The bedroom door.
Both of them went completely still.
’Gwen.’
Now I have more than enough context about the characters, their dynamics, and the story’s world. Let me write the Chapter.
# Chapter — Curtain
The click of the bedroom door latch was the quietest thing that had happened all night.
Vivian didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her back was still pressed against the wall, thighs still locked around his hips, the obscene wet warmth of two releases sitting deep inside her like something that had decided to stay. Her palm was flat against his chest. His heart was still fast under her fingers.
Viktor’s hand had gone to her hip. Still. Just gripping.
Neither of them breathed.
’Gwen.’
The thought arrived in Vivian’s chest like a stone dropped into still water — spreading outward in slow, cold rings. Her daughter. Her daughter was on the other side of that door. Her daughter who had spent three months watching her mother hold herself together through every disaster, every loss, every close call, and who believed — needed to believe — that she was still that woman.
’Don’t make a sound. Don’t move. Don’t—’
Viktor’s hand at her hip tightened once. A small pressure. A single message.
’I know.’
His cock was still inside her.
Vivian became extremely, catastrophically aware of this fact at the exact moment she heard Gwen’s footsteps cross the threshold. Light. Quick. The particular rhythm of her daughter’s walk — aggressive even when she was just moving through a room, like every surface she crossed deserved to know she was crossing it.
The creak of the floorboard two feet inside the door.
Viktor shifted.
It was barely a movement. His shoulder turned toward the room, his upper body rotating just enough to present as sitting on the edge of the bed — a man leaning back, casual, one knee angled. His shirt was still on. His trousers were down but the sheet had somehow, in the same motion, fallen forward across his lap in a rumple of fabric that looked entirely accidental.
His hand found the back of Vivian’s head.
He guided her.
Down.
’He’s—’
Gwen’s jaw worked.
’He looks too comfortable. Why does he always look too comfortable.’
Her eyes dropped to the sheet. To the faint irregular shape of it that could be — no. Was nothing.
Was just the way fabric fell.
"Mmmnhh~~~"
Her gaze came back to his face.
"Mother came with you, right?" Gwen heard herself ask. The words came out flatter than intended, which happened sometimes when she was tracking too many things at once. "Where is she?"
