Agrippa
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An End, Some Means, and a Deranged Lesbian – Chapter 1 [Complete]
🕑 Added 2022-02-07 04:10:59 +0000 UTCMy magic is unlike that of other magical girls. I get constant visions of the future, and so it drains me with every breath, with every small glimpse into a catastrophe I must abort at any cost.
Also, unlike other magical girls, I know where witches come from. Having the certainty that I will either die or live to become a nightmarish monster bent on undoing every scrap of good I managed to ever accomplish makes it so I am uniquely motivated to accomplish my goals. To do something worthwhile before I die.
And there’s also the matter of my wish.
I wished for a purpose.
And I got it.
To kill Madoka Kaname.
To save the world.
…
Quite honestly, it’s a bit relieving that my goal is this all-encompassing, because it makes it so every single step I take toward it is justified by default.
Thus, Kirika Kure’s continued survival.
The girl is completely and utterly insane, her homicidal impulses barely held in check, unstable beyond what any other magical girl who isn’t right on the verge of becoming a witch could ever be.
She’s also, for reasons I don’t understand, completely devoted to me, to the point where she provides me with the grief seeds my always dwindling magical reserves do not allow me to fight for on my own.
She’s also killing magical girls. On my behalf.
Just so Kyuubey gets distracted and doesn’t notice Madoka’s potential. So he doesn’t turn her into a magical girl before I’m ready to kill her.
“The ends justify the means,” I mutter to myself, alone in the library of my dead parents.
The actual quote is, ‘In judging policies we should consider the results that have been achieved through them rather than the means by which they have been executed.’ It’s a line written by Machiavelli, whose entire opus is in this library. It’s at once perfectly natural that my father—a politician by trade and lineage—would possess copies of the books and utterly bewildering that he did, seeing how devoted he was to achieving the greater good without compromising his morals.
I’m sorry, father, but I’ll only follow in your footsteps that far. Be glad I still seek to attain a greater good, at the very least.
“Moping again?” Kirika asks with her casual, cheerful indolence.
I turn to the side and see her in her magical girl form, that almost gothic, black and white ensemble with an enormous eyepatch covering the right side of her face. She’s squatting on the ledge of the open window, not having bothered with the door for reasons all her own.
She’s smiling so widely I can see her teeth gleam even through the shadows cast by the flared collar of her tailcoat.
Also, her black skirt is so short she’s almost flashing me her spats.
I raise an eyebrow. She’s usually not one to criticize me, no matter how slightly or teasingly.
“Contemplating the path ahead. I’d say there’s a difference, Kirika.”
She rolls her eyes. At me.
Something’s wrong.
“Sure, sure, whatever you say. By the way, how about you transform? You know, before it’s too late and all that.”
Something’s very wrong.
“Too late for what?” I ask her, already standing up, being mindful that my long blue dress doesn’t get caught in the chair.
Her smile widens, her golden eye glows.
And her magic claws made of crimson shadow unfurl from her long, draped sleeves.
“To have a fighting chance,” she whispers. And it’s almost sensual.
I take out my soul gem and activate my transformation as quickly as I can, my clothes giving way to vestments made of pure magic. The voluminous, white dress that covers me entirely doesn’t impede my mobility at all, no matter how much it should, and my hat—
My hat just flew off my head, cut in two.
And Kirika’s face is right in front of mine.
“What is the meaning of this?” I ask, the heart of this dead body racing.
“You told me to hunt magical girls, you know? And here’s one!” She laughs, stridently and unrestrained.
I jump back.
I’ve got enough grief seeds to outlast her, seeds shegave me, so it makes no sense to keep anything in reserve. I pour as much power as I can into my physical enhancements, the world slowing down as I focus, as I stretch my senses—
I get a brief glimpse of what will happen in a fraction of a second, and kick the floor as hard as I can to change directions just in time for Kirika’s claw to tear a piece of my short cape rather than carve up my entire arm.
“That’s it! Move! Fight! Act! Stop sulking!” she turns to me from the other end of the spacious room. She’s overshot past me, given me distance.
A ridiculous mistake. Because I don’t stand a chance in close combat, but if she gives me enough range—
Spheres of crystallized magic trace unpredictable orbits around me, each one refracting the light around them in a way that shows a distinct, different image. They are as much of a proclamation about what my actual power is as they can be.
I guess tarot cards would have also worked, though.
It doesn’t matter. Not for this.
Kirika blinks at my display, then tilts her head in confusion as she scratches her temple, her short black hair bouncing with the gesture.
And she looks exactly as she looked two days ago when she listened to me prattle on about plans that I would use her for.
“Hey, you sure you can afford to waste so much power on little ol’ me? What will happen if you don’t have enough to fight off Madoka after you’re done here?”
My arm raises to point at her.
“It’s irrelevant to think about days from now when I’m fighting to survive the next second.”
I don’t know why I even bother to answer her question. If she dies, it won’t do her any good, and if I die, I don’t care what good it will do her.
Not when she’s jeopardizing the whole world with this—this tantrum!
And she has the gall to laugh!
“Now you get it! Right, Oriko, let’s see you fight for your life! Show me how splendid you are!”
The maniac jumps straight at me, not even a thought given to subterfuge or feinting, and I pull with my magic to shoot the crystal balls as—
I blink, and Kirika isn’t there.
And there’s a line of burning pain oozing blood over my breasts, the white fabric covering them slowly reddening.
Kirika’s voice reaches me from behind, and I’m too afraid to turn around as one of her long claws slowly drags across my neck without breaking the skin.
“I told you to show me,” she whispers.
My body doesn’t move. Any injuries that won’t outright kill me are irrelevant, and the less thought I give them, the less they will affect me as I distance myself from the sensation of pain, as I allow my consciousness to take refuge into my soul gem—
And Kirika grabs it, her hand closing around the brooch over my chest.
Which is just the moment I take to shoot a barrage from in front of me at precisely where I predicted her elbow would be.
And now I turn around.
She’s clutching her bloodied right arm. My attack hasn’t been debilitating enough, because she’s once again used her superb reflexes to step away before it was too late.
And I’m far too relieved at not seeing my soul gem clasped in her fist.
“As beautiful as ever,” she says, her eyes roaming—
…
“Ah! Why would you do that!” I’m… I’m almost naked! My thighs are showing, and one of my breasts—my dress is barely a collection of scraps! “Kirika!”
She laughs! She laughs at having torn my clothes and exposed my—wait, why am I alive?
“I won’t kill you until I’ve seen everything you can show me, Oriko!” she proudly proclaims as she points at me, her dumb grin—
Appearing right in front of me.
I blink in confusion right before I berate myself for doing so, because now she’s grabbing my neck, and I may not need to breathe as much as when I was alive, but I still feel my chest burning as she clenches—
“So, show me. So I can kill you.”
Her free hand tears apart the rest of my dress, only my short cape covering my shoulders as everything else is exposed to Kirika’s hungry stare.
She drags the back of a claw right up the middle of my body, from just above my sex, to between my breasts, across the shallow cut she just gave me, and, finally, to below my chin, where the prick of the sharp point forces me to raise my head.
“Oh! Disgust and frustration! That’s new, that’s precious, that’s so cool, so Oriko! Ah, it sends shivers down my spine!” she proclaims in the far too loud voice I’ve never chastised her for. And then her grip on my neck slackens as if she wants me to answer.
“… What the Hell are you even doing?” I manage to mutter without stabbing myself with the claw beneath my chin.
She squirms with what appears to be pleasure at my scorn.
“Ah! Yes, look at me like that! Like I’m a piece of trash unfit to be stepped on by you!”
I shoot a ball at her, and she throws her head back fast enough it only leaves a red, angry line across her forehead.
Then she stands back up, her infuriating grin—
“That’s it! That’s just perfect! Keep struggling, keep trying to survive even if you know it’s hopeless!”
And, for a moment, I see it.
Kirika cradling my severed head, crying her eyes out before becoming a witch.
It’ll happen in seconds.
So, without any chances to do something clever, to use my power for a plan that will allow me to checkmate her before she can even realize what’s going on, I do something stupid.
I raise my hand and grab her claws.
The edges dig into my palms, my skin splitting and blood making it harder to keep my grip, but with enough magic I should be able to—
The world blurs, and my face slams against the ground.
Kirika’s knee presses down on my naked back, and my breasts flatten against the scraps of my dress.
Then she bends down and whispers in my ear.
“Are you suffering, Oriko?”
I am.
I am about to be killed by the one person I’ve allowed myself to trust since my parents died.
I am about to waste my chance to do something great, something good.
I am… I am not crying.
“Frustrated tears…” she says, her voice dark like a caress from an unknown hand. “They would suit you so much…”
Her claws sink into the ground, right beside my eye.
“You could still kill us both, you know? You’re strong enough to shoot me dead with those balls of yours, but not enough to stop them from killing you afterward. We could die together! Wouldn’t that be beautiful?”
I…
“I won’t kill you if it’s… If it doesn’t serve a purpose,” I finally bite out.
“Oh? So you’ll only kill when it’s useful? Or am I that special?”
I close my eyes, still seeing that near future with Kirika cradling my head. Crying. Weeping for me.
“You don’t want to do this,” I tell her. Not because I want her to stop, but because I know, I know she doesn’t, but I don’t understand why she’ll do it anyway, why—
“And did you want to kill all those girls?” she shoots back, and it hurts more than any cut on my body.
“What?”
“Those girls. Those girls you pointed me to, those you had me kill just to distract the weirdo bunny. Did you want them to die, Oriko? Did you want their blood on our hands?”
Is… Is this revenge? Atonement?
“You know the answer to that question.” I force the words past a throat that’s too tight, but that won’t be a concern for long. Because it’s about to be cut open.
“Do you?” she asks.
And…
Most of them? I don’t even know them. Not beyond an image and a name.
Because I didn’t want to know them.
But… The first one? The first girl Kirika killed on my behalf, the one that had my crazed friend break down after the fact?
Komaki Asako.
The girl who could’ve been my friend if I hadn’t so carelessly, so unwittingly, arranged for her to die.
Her little sister asked me for help, asked me to tell her anything I could about what her sister was involved in before she was murdered. Because she thought we were best friends, because Komaki kept talking about me in her brash, proud way, and—
I want to save the world. I want to do good. I want it so, somuch.
And I clench my eyelids as strongly as I can, because I have no right, but still burning tears escape through them, and—
Kirika’s cradling my head to her chest as I weep.
“Hey, it’s all right. You didn’t know. You couldn’t know.”
That’s a lie. Because that’s what my power is: knowing. And if I had just… just tried a bit harder, thought through the plan, the actions, the ramifications, if I had hunted enough witches to be able to afford the expense of my magic, if… if…
If.
“You’re a bad girl, Oriko. A villain, a murderer. You deserve to be punished,” Kirika’s soft voice is like a lullaby, and I can feel my body relax in her grasp as her claw raises and delicately caresses my neck.
And then the magic that forms them evaporates, and the crazy girl, my only friend, lies a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“And so I have,” she says, as tenderly as I could ever imagine.
I open my eyes and look up at her as she caresses my cheek. My vision flares.
And, in it, she’s no longer weeping and cradling my severed head.
She’s just holding me as I come apart.
And so I do.
Naked, bleeding, weak, I clutch Kirika’s jacket as I bury my face on her chest, as I allow myself to cry like I haven’t since this all started, as I stain her clothes with ugly tears and blood, and I rub against the magic fabric as my thoughts blur and whirl, as every crime I’ve allowed myself to commit forces its way out of the shadows I’ve banished them to and I realize how awful I am, how undeserving of anything but punishment, how—
Kirika gently pushes me away and looks at me with compassion I never expected.
“Hey,” she whispers, “I finally remembered what my wish was, Oriko. Wanna know?”
I feel my mind sluggishly try to piece together the words, because it keeps halting at every new memory that I force myself to revisit, and—
Kirika’s wish.
The one she was so angry at not remembering, the one that motivated her rage when she first met me, attacked me.
I nod.
She leans back down, her nose almost touching mine, her single visible eye consuming my own vision until I only see gentle, warm, caring gold.
“To change. I wished to be a different person.” She pauses, closes her eye, breathes. And then her eye opens. “I wished to change so I would be suitable for that pretty girl with the long blonde hair tied into a side-ponytail that I crashed into once, who looked so beautiful and unattainable. Who would probably never even remember someone like me just because a clumsy girl kept apologizing to her...”
I… A short-haired girl with a Mitakihara uniform. Her elbow getting embarrassingly stuck between my breasts, her flushed cheeks…
“Just… Just because of that?” I ask her, my voice raw and incredulous.
She nods, and smiles a beaming grin at me.
Hesitating, haltingly, I raise a trembling hand to her cheek and cup it as she rubs herself against it like an affectionate kitten.
“You’re such a dumb girl…” I tell her with far more fondness than I ever expected to feel for someone who tried to kill me twice.
“I am! I’ll always be dumb when compared to the greatness that is Oriko! I’ll never even compare!”
I close my eyes, and I chuckle, because the awful memories aren’t gone, but among them there are others. Ones with a cheerful girl filled with too much enthusiasm about at least a single subject.
Me.
My elbow bends as Kirika grabs my hand and keeps it pressed to her cheek before she lowers her head until I feel her other cheek’s heat almost brushing mine.
Then she speaks once again, once more barely above a whisper that caresses my ear.
“So… You needed to be punished, and I punished you, Oriko. Because that’s what I do, what I’ll always do.” She pauses, and my heart beats faster as my awareness goes fully from my soul gem to my body. “And now I think you need to be… accepted.”
I open my eyes, and I barely see anything through her black hair.
“What do you—”
She presses a grief seed against my soul gem, still hanging like a brooch keeping my half-cape closed, and the energy fills it as my skin closes.
Then she kisses me, and her lips are searing on mine.
I don’t even know how it happens, just that there’s one moment where Kirika’s gently cradling my head against her chest and delicately laying the softest of kisses on me, and that then there’s another moment where my arms are around her neck, my tongue desperately trying to reach her throat, and my legs maneuvering so I can be on top of her.
“Hmph!” she mumbles in what could be a protest.
I finish turning us around, and I open my eyes, her flushed cheeks the first thing I notice before I incorporate myself, sitting over her hips as she looks up at me in wonder until her eyes dip lower than mine, and—
Oh. My breasts.
I am naked.
How silly of me to forget.
“Pervert,” I say with as much heat as I can muster, and Kirika’s blush explodes from her cheeks to her whole face and down her neck.
Maybe it goes further.
…
May as well find out.
I grab her shirt and pull, the buttons flying off right before I do the same thing to her tailcoat.
Kirika’s chest is on display, her nipples predictably erect in a way I didn’t need magic to foresee, and she squirms beneath my gaze.
And, yes, her blush definitely reached lower than her collarbone.
Quite a bit lower.
“… Pervert,” she finally mutters.
I don’t blush at it. Mostly because the rosy tint over the top of my breasts has already been there for quite a while.
“And whose fault is that?” I can’t help but answer in a sullen, low voice.
Which may have been a mistake, because now she’s all but glowing.
“Mine?! You mean I’ve dragged the divine Oriko down? That she’s now bound to the same base desires I—”
As amusing as her outbursts usually are… I think shutting her up by shoving my tongue down her throat could prove more reliably entertaining.
At least as long as she keeps squirming in her adorable way between my legs, her raised pelvis grinding against mine through the silky fabric of her black skirt, and—
And her right hand grabs my butt and pulls me lower, more strongly, against her. And her left hand grabs my breast and squeezes, hard enough I close my eyes as a low moan escapes from my mouth to Kirika’s.
Her fingers quickly find my nipple, and it is harder than I would’ve guessed, so she doesn’t bother with teasing me: she just pinches, and pulls, and twists, the sensations shooting through me almost painful just because of their raw intensity, and…
And I gasp, throwing my head back, and as soon as her mouth is free to do so, Kirika lowers her head and bites down on the side of my neck, hard enough I can feel her pointed canines about to break my skin, but it wouldn’t be much of a problem if I can keep regenerating, and—
And the hand on my breast suddenly pushes rather than pull while the one on my butt squeezes me down, and Kirika pivots the both of us until I am, once again, lying on the scraps of my dress, with bare patches of tiled floor sending thrills of cold down my back, but then I look up, at Kirika…
Cold is the furthest thing from my mind.
Her eye blazes, and then she tears off her eyepatch, I suspect, just so she can devour me entirely, so she can imprint this memory of me lying beneath her, panting and gasping, yearning for her touch, my thighs rubbing together, my eyes lidded with desire.
“Fuck me…” I whisper.
Kirika bites her lip and moans, and shivers, and…
“Did you… Did you just come?” I ask her, my brain unable to process the mere possibility.
“I couldn’t help it! You don’t know how hot you look! And I’m finally touching you, and your smell is all around me, and you said, you said—that! It would be a miracle not to cum!”
“I’ve barely touched you.”
“That’s the best part!”
… All right, Kirika may be suited for me, but I’m definitely in dire need of some kind of owner’s manual before I’m really suited for her.
I glare up at her, and she fidgets, which lets me know that glares may be very counterproductive from now on.
“I don’t even know if continuing is a good idea—”
My words are cut off by Kirika shoving her tongue down my throat. It’s a novel experience to be on the receiving end of.
It’s also very effective when coupled with her grabbing both my wrists in a single hand that stabs through the floor with magical claws that make it very unlikely I could free myself from her grasp, no matter how much I tried or protested.
And her other hand grabs my left breast, pushing it up, mauling it, my very shape at her mercy as an impossibly firm grip sends the very beginnings of pain through me before weakening just a tad, just a tiny bit. Just enough that the overwhelming sensation is no longer painful, and it instead sends bolts of helpless pleasure through my body, straight to my… my…
My pussy!
Kirika’s making my pussy wet, and hot, and aching, and I want her to fill me with something hers, her tongue, or her fingers, but I don’t want her to let me go, I don’t want her tongue out of my greedy mouth, I don’t want my hands free from her grasp, and I don’t want my breast not to be shaped by her strength. I want all of my body at her mercy, and—
There’s a tearing sound.
Alarmed, I open my eyes.
And, maneuvering around Kirika’s needy kiss without breaking it, I see—
I frantically pull away until I manage to get my breathing and voice back.
“What! That! What!” I ask, in what I think is an admirable show of restraint.
Kirika tilts her head in confusion, then her gaze follows mine down her body past her smaller, yet round, firm, and peaked by adorable, pink nipples that—never mind, past her breasts, past her taut, firm, enticing… Past her stomach.
But not past much farther, because…
There’s a crimson, shadowy something that’s just torn past her skirt and spats.
A cylindrical something.
With a head that’s—
“Oh! I’m finally suitable for Oriko!”
I blink at her before glowering.
“You aren’t fucking me with something that’s made from the same stuff as those claws that cut through rock.”
“I would never hurt you!” she protests with a hurt look.
“You tried to kill me. Twice.”
“Foreplay?”
…
“You still aren’t getting that inside me.”
Kirika lets go of my breast (and I don’t moan in protest, nor bite my lip, nor… ugh) and experimentally pokes her… appendage.
It bounces.
She giggles.
… And I thought my wish was weird.
“It’s warm!” she proclaims with what seems to be pride as she grabs it.
And then she moans and fidgets over me as she pumps it once.
And then looks at me pleadingly.
…
“No. No way.”
“But! It emerged because of my wish, so it has to be suitable for—”
“I’m a virgin! That can’t be suitable! I wouldn’t be able to walk for weeks!”
She tilts her head in confusion.
“But… you regenerate, Oriko.”
“… I forgot about that,” I grumble, heat once again burning on my cheeks.
And she beams at me.
“See! No problem at all! I can just shove it inside you, feel your wet pussy wrap around me and bury myself in Oriko until we both—”
“No. That is forbidden, Kirika. There won’t be any shoving, much less any burying.”
And now she shoots the puppy eyes at me.
The puppy eyes from the manic, homicidal girl obsessed with me.
The girl who made a wish that ensures she’ll always be devoted to me with her very soul.
The girl who manifested a—an addition right as I was thinking how much I wanted to feel her inside of me without her letting me go nor her tongue leaving my mouth.
… Those are some very sad eyes.
And she’s still gripping her… that.
Fine.
“Just… just the tip?” I finally concede.
Her smile is radiant.
Damn it.
I reluctantly open my legs, the inside of my thighs feeling cold as the drenched skin is exposed to the air, and Kirika shifts down my body without letting go of the wrists pinned above my head. She fumbles a bit, aiming her—
“Hn!”
It’s… hot.
And soft, and hard, and the head is just rubbing around my opening as Kirika keeps maneuvering it with her hand, looking for the best way to—
“Kirika!” I can’t help it. Right as she rubs it over my clitoris, I scream her name as my body jerks up.
And she looks at me with wonder in her eyes before her lips split into a silly grin.
“See? All for you,” she says. And I believe her.
And then the hand with which she’s holding her… member slides from it to my pelvis and gently presses down on me, keeping me still as her thumb finds my clitoris and she starts rubbing around it in soft circles, and she draws back her hips, and I can feel the heat of it drag back between my labia, and…
Kirika looks at me, the silly grin soft, and warm, and wondering, and I…
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
And she pushes forward, the tip going past my opening, spreading me, filling me in a way I’ve never been filled, and I bite my lip before I give up and moan, my eyes closed as I can only feel Kirika’s hand holding me down, her thumb teasing me relentlessly, and her… her…
Her cock.
I’m moaning as Kirika’s cock fills me, and no one could ever think the wanton girl tilting her hips up to better receive her is the same dignified Oriko, the scion of the disgraced Mikuni family, who never loses her composure in public.
“Yes! Disgrace me! Mark me! Ruin me!” I say, not knowing why, as I wrap my legs against Kirika’s hips and pull her to me forcefully, her cock (delicious, burning, thick, wonderful cock) going inside me far past just the tip.
Kirika moans before gritting her teeth as she bottoms out inside me, and I can feel a slight, hard, fleshy thing grinding down on my clitoris that can only be her own.
She lies on top of me, her breasts flattening mine, her juices mingling with my own, and her cock filling me until my head has no room for thoughts other than the soft body of the girl fucking me.
“Oriko…” she moans, between dreamy and lost, her eyes still closed.
My hands struggle against her grip, because I want to hold her, to caress her body, feel her own breasts and maul them as she mauled mine—
Her lips burn against the side of my neck, and she sucks on my skin, pulling on it so hard I almost hope she breaks it and drinks from me, taking of my body as she fills me with her own. Then she pulls back, and the dragging sensation, the way my body pleads with hers not to go, not to part, is sheer agonizing pleasure, leaving me with an all-consuming need to be filled right back, to have her in this empty place that belongs to her, to the girl who’s made herself uniquely suited for it.
“I love you,” she finally says in the simplest words she can rather than show it through her extravagant actions and outbursts.
Tears drip from the corner of my eyes.
“You... You can’t help it. You wished for it.”
I open my eyes, and I see her face above mine, the golden eyes burning through me despite my blurred vision.
“No. I couldn’t help it, so I wished for it,” she answers. As if it is the simplest, easiest thing to conclude, to say, to confess.
My breath comes out in a hiccup, and I can’t answer her, not when my body doesn’t collaborate, but then she leans down, and she kisses me, her lips the softest thing I’ve ever felt, her tongue teasing around mine, her free hand caressing my chest, tracing small circles around my painfully erect nipple.
And she fills me back up.
I scream into her mouth, and Kirika fucks me.
She moves like waves, back and forth without ever retreating fully, never letting me get used to her absence nor her presence, always leaving me with at least a hint of her heat before she surges back in, my body lifting off the floor when she pulls back.
Then she lets go of my hands by retracting her claws, and my breast bounces freely up and down as she stops supporting it in her tight grasp, and she grabs the back of my knees, and—
Is this… a mating press?
My legs are hooked on Kirika’s shoulders, my body arched, my… my pussy aiming straight up, and she—
“Ah! Kirika!”
“Oriko! You’re so beautiful! So gorgeous when I stuff you full of cock!”
“That doesn’t make me happy! At all!”
It’s a lie. It… kind of does.
And I’m never telling her.
Not when she’s so rough! Oh gods! Learn restraint, Kirika!
… On second thought, that was a dumb thing to think.
“I want to take pictures! I want to show everyone your pretty face beaded with sweat, your lust-filled eyes, your sloppy smile! Ah! It makes me want to fill you with cum!”
… A really dumb thing to think.
I try to answer, to chastise her, to at least make her swear she won’t make a public display full of pictures of my deflowering, but Kirika keeps thrusting in and out of me, and every time I try to speak she drives the breath out of me in a moan, a gasp, or the wanton panting of a bitch in heat—of a woman in the throes of passion, I mean.
Yes.
That.
Oh, fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good.
Especially not with the bursts of pleasure shooting up my body and behind my eyelids, with the curling of my toes, with the sound of her hips slamming down on my meaty ass and our breasts clapping together.
A bead of sweat drips off her still reddened forehead and falls on my open mouth, on my tongue, and I savor her salty flavor as my eyes flutter, and then I remember my hands are now free.
So I grab her breasts, and they are as firm and soft as I thought. Their round shape is just perfect, and the way Kirika’s eyes narrow and the pace of her fucking increases is also perfect, and everything’s so bright right at this moment—
Kirika shakes, her clitoris once more grinding on mine, and my trembling legs beneath her shoulders make us rub in just the right way as she hisses past clenched teeth, and I—
I cum.
The world goes blank, and I can only feel the heat inside and around me and the—the something washing over and through me, tearing apart my thoughts and leaving only pleasure and fulfillment behind.
My magic activates once more, an unbidden vision of the future coming to me.
In it, Kirika and I are hugging, our hair disheveled, the sheets of my bed clinging to us showing just how nude, sweaty, and satisfied we are.
I’m clutching her, my face nestled between her breasts.
She’s caressing me. Languidly, not with desire, but with tenderness.
The vision fades. And a thousand more take its place.
When my climax fades, when the orgasm finishes wracking both my body and mind, the memories remain.
Memories of Kirika and I in a thousand possible futures. Always together, always loving.
And sometimes dying, but…
I open my eyes and look up. At golden irises full of wonder, and love, and affection, and devotion, and…
“I love you, Kirika,” I finally answer her confession now that her cock isn’t taking away my ability to… do… so…
I raise an eyebrow.
“I can’t help it!” Kirika bashfully protests. “Not if you say you love me when looking freshly fucked, and so gorgeous—not like you aren’t always gorgeous! No, but this is another kind of gorgeous, and it makes me so hard, and makes me want to fuck you so hard, and—do you need a grief seed? If you’re feeling sore, we could pause for, I don’t know? About three seconds? Come on, Oriko! Just regenerate so I can pump you full of cock again and—”
I grab Kirika’s hair and drag her head down so I can shut up her up with my tongue.
Mostly because I don’t want to keep listening to her nonsense during what should be a romantic, restful afterglow.
But also because I kinda want her to stuff me full of cock until I go cross-eyed…
What? I’ve got a lot of issues to work through. And loving sex is therapeutic.
The visions in my head say so.
