Bliss.
It was a word too small, a concept too mundane. Cecilia had never conceived of a sensation that could simultaneously shatter and reconstitute the soul. It wasn't just pleasure, but also completion, followed by a dizzying echo that hummed through four separate bodies still thrumming with shared lightning.
Oathran collapsed behind her, his immense body going utterly, completely slack. A mountain rendered into warm and breathing sand. One of his twin cocks, the one not buried deep within her, had spent itself in thick and pearlescent spurts.
The release had hit Eastiel's still-throbbing cock in the process, their releases mixing on Cecilia's trembling stomach painting it white.
Arkai's own climax had wet her hand and the curve of her waist where he'd crouched forward, his forehead pressed to her shoulder. He lifted his head now, eyes glinting with a dark, satiated light, like a wolf observing a moon-drenched kill.
