Tianlong strode through the shifting void, his arms cradling Sylvea's limp, sweat-slicked body like she was some fragile treasure he'd just plundered from the depths.
Her thick thighs hung loose, parted just enough that every step he took made his hand—gripped firm on one meaty cheek of her ass—squeeze involuntarily.
The pressure was deliberate, almost cruel in its casualness; globs of his thick, creamy cum mixed with her ruined pussy juices dribbled out from between her swollen folds, splattering wetly onto the ethereal floor below.
They left a sloppy trail, viscous strings stretching and snapping with each jostle, the scent of raw sex hanging heavy in the air like a promise of more to come.
Sylvea's head lolled against his chest, her green hair matted and tangled, lips parted in shallow breaths, still unconsciously licking at the salty remnants of his load that smeared her chin.
