Even after cumming twice, Oliver's dick did not show any sign of going down. The only change was that Oliver was becoming more aggressive. It was alright till the first vial of aphrodisiac, but the second one crashed his mind. The aphrodisiac had taken over his mind fully.
Now he wasn't the one doing the talk. The aphrodisiac was making him talk. He was like a beast ready to mate.
Oliver's eyes glazed over with raw, primal hunger, his breaths coming in heavy, ragged snarls. The potion burned through his veins like liquid fire, stripping away any remnants of restraint. His cock throbbed, veins bulging, slick with cum and Isolde's juices, pointing straight up like a weapon ready to conquer. He grabbed Isolde by the hips, flipping her onto her back with a force that made the bed creak in protest. "Mine," he growled, voice guttural, not his own—deeper, animalistic. "Gonna fuck you both till you break."
