[More Seggs]
The first thing Ragnar registered was not the soft, otherworldly light filtering through the chamber of starlight, but a warm, wet, and utterly divine pressure enveloping his cock.
He groaned, a low, sleep-rough sound, as consciousness returned in a pleasurable rush. He opened his eyes to see Robin's head bobbing between his legs, her dark hair cascading over his thighs, her full lips stretched around his girth.
Her eyes were closed in concentration, a faint blush on her cheeks, completely absorbed in the act of pleasuring him.
She was eager, almost devout in her efforts, taking him deep into her throat with a practiced grace that belied her newfound intimacy.
A soft, choked gag escaped her now and then, but she persevered, her tongue swirling around the head, her hands cupping and massaging his balls.
The sight of her, the brilliant archaeologist, the Demon's Daughter, on her knees and servicing him with such single-minded devotion, sent a surge of possessive pride and raw lust through him.
He reached down, his fingers gently tangling in her silken hair, not to guide or force, but simply to touch her, to feel the connection. He stroked her hair, it was a silent, tender encouragement.
Feeling his hand, Robin looked up, her dark eyes meeting his. In them, he saw not submission, but a fierce, loving desire to please him, to give him this morning gift.
It spurred her on. She increased her pace, her mouth working him with a hungry rhythm, her moans vibrating along his sensitive flesh. The combination of the visual, the physical sensation, and the emotional intimacy was too much.
"Robin… I'm close," he gritted out, his hips giving a slight, involuntary buck.
She didn't pull away. Instead, she took him deeper, her throat relaxing to accommodate him, her eyes locked on his, silently urging him on.
With a guttural roar that echoed softly in the celestial chamber, he came, his release pulsing hot and thick into her mouth.
Robin's eyes fluttered closed as she swallowed diligently, taking every last drop, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips as she finally pulled back, licking them clean.
"Good morning," she whispered, her voice husky.
Ragnar didn't answer with words. In one fluid, powerful motion, he surged up from the bed, grabbed her by the waist, and lifted her. He turned her, pressing her back against his chest, his arms wrapping around her to cup her heavy breasts.
His still-hard cock, slick with her saliva, nestled between her buttocks. He leaned down, nipping at her earlobe.
"The morning's just getting started," he growled.
He guided himself to her entrance, which was still swollen and sensitive from their night of lovemaking, and pushed inside in one smooth, deep stroke.
Robin cried out, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hands gripping his muscular arms for support. He began to move, a slow, relentless piston of his hips, each thrust grinding her clit against his pubic bone.
The position allowed him to penetrate her impossibly deeply, hitting spots that made her see stars. He alternated between kissing and biting the sensitive skin of her neck and shoulders, his hands kneading her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples until they were hard little pebbles.
"Ragnar… oh, yes… harder…" she begged, her composure utterly shattered, her body his to command.
He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster, more powerful, slamming into her with a force that drove her up onto her toes. The sound of their bodies meeting, of her desperate moans and his ragged breaths, filled the room. He felt her inner muscles begin to flutter and clamp down around him, signaling her impending climax.
"Come for me, my love," he commanded hoarsely into her ear.
That was all it took. Robin screamed, her body convulsing violently in his arms, her climax so intense her vision whited out. The violent clenching of her core milked his own orgasm from him, and he buried himself to the hilt with a final, shuddering roar, filling her with his seed once more.
But he wasn't done. His stamina, superhuman even before his Angelic transformation, was seemingly endless. He carried her, still impaled on him, back to the bed and laid her down.
For the next hour, he took her in a variety of positions, each round a new exploration. He had her on her hands and knees, driving into her from behind while marveling at the perfect, swaying curve of her plump rear.
He lay her on her back, hooking her legs over his shoulders, allowing him to plunge into her deepest depths while he watched the ecstasy contort her beautiful face.
He sat back against the headboard and had her ride him, watching the magnificent bounce of her breasts as she moved, her inner scholar analyzing the best angles and rhythms to pleasure them both.
Each time she came, her cries grew more ragged, more broken with pleasure, until she was a limp, boneless, thoroughly fucked mess beneath him, capable only of mewling his name.
Finally, after a particularly long, slow, grinding session where he brought her to the peak three times before allowing his own release, he collapsed beside her, both of them drenched in sweat and panting, the air thick with the musky scent of sex.
Later, they found a shower in an adjoining chamber that seemed to be made of solid light, water falling like liquid diamonds.
They washed each other slowly, tenderly, his hands soaping every inch of her body, rediscovering the curves he had just claimed so vigorously. As they stepped out,
Robin wrapped in a towel that felt like a woven cloud, finally got a proper look at their surroundings beyond the bedroom.
Her archaeologist's heart nearly stopped. They were in a mansion, but one crafted from principles she couldn't comprehend. The walls were seamless, glowing softly. Panels of light displayed moving images and streams of data in languages she didn't recognize.
A transparent table held a centerpiece that was a miniature, holographic galaxy, stars being born and dying in real-time. She reached out, her fingers passing through a phantom star.
"This… this technology…" she breathed, her mind reeling. "It's centuries, no, millennia ahead of anything Vegapunk could even dream of."
Ragnar, leaning against a doorway, smiled. It was a rare, unguarded smile of pure affection. He loved seeing her like this, her brilliant mind struggling to categorize the uncategorizable, her awe a refreshing contrast to the worldly cynicism she usually wore like armor.
"This dimension is a repository of knowledge from… elsewhere," he said vaguely. "A few perks of being its master."
This dimension was naturally empty when he ate the seraph fruit, but later he found that the things from his imagination could manifest here, so he manifested various technologies from Earth and anime he had seen.
But unfortunately, as soon as they were taken outside they vanished, but he wasn't too upset with it as he planned to bring Vegapunk here in the future and maybe he could study them for him.
After dressing in fresh clothes that manifested from a wall panel at a thought, Ragnar took her hand.
"The crew will be waiting." With a flash of light, they teleported from the impossible luxury of the heavens back to the familiar, solid wood of the Tidereaver's deck.
The transition was seamless. The ship was cutting calmly through a placid blue sea under a bright sun. The scene on deck was one of tranquil normalcy. Nami, Nojiko, and Isabella were seated in comfortable deck chairs.
Nami was sketching navigational charts with intense focus, Nojiko was quietly polishing one of her divine projectiles, and Isabella was reading a book of sheet music, a cup of steaming coffee in her hand.
From below decks, the distinct sounds of clashing metal, grunts of effort, and the occasional crackle of Wyper's lightning indicated the boys were in the training room, no doubt pushing each other to new limits.
"Good morning," Ragnar said, his voice calm and infused with a deep, satisfied warmth.
The three women looked up. Their eyes immediately went to Robin. She was standing straighter, her skin seemed to glow with a healthy radiance, and there was a new, profound softness in her eyes, a peace that had never been there before. The change was unmistakable.
Isabella, with her perception for emotion, was the first to speak. A knowing, gentle smile graced her lips.
"Congratulations, Robin," she said, her voice melodious and sincere. Then, her eyes twinkled with playful mischief as she glanced meaningfully at Nami and Nojiko.
"I wonder when some others among us will get their chance to… glow like that."
Nami and Nojiko, caught completely off guard, blushed a spectacular shade of crimson. Nami's eyes widened, her mouth forming a small 'o' of shock before she looked down, fidgeting with her pen.
Nojiko's reaction was more contained, but a deep flush crept up her neck to her cheeks, and she couldn't meet Ragnar's gaze, a rare show of shyness from the normally composed assassin.
Seeing their flustered, hopeful, and utterly adorable reactions, Ragnar felt a surge of affection. He walked towards them, his smile turning into a confident, promising grin.
"Maybe pretty soon?" he suggested in a low voice.
Nami, ever the tsundere, tried to recover by pouting, crossing her arms under her breasts. "W-who says we're waiting for anything? Don't get cocky, you-"
Her protest was cut off as Ragnar closed the distance, cupped her face, and captured her pouting mouth in a firm, passionate kiss. Nami stiffened for a second, surprised.
Since their first, when Ragnar made her an Angel, things had been charged but unspoken. This was different. This was deliberate, claiming, and full of a promise that made her knees weak.
Her resistance melted instantly, her arms uncrossing as her hands came up to clutch at his shirt, a soft, surrendering moan escaping her throat.
When he finally pulled back, Nami was breathless, her pout replaced by a dazed, yearning expression. Without a word, Ragnar turned to Nojiko.
She didn't wait. As he leaned in, she met him halfway, her hands rising to wrap around his neck, pulling him down into a deeper, more sensual kiss.
It was a kiss of quiet understanding and long-held desire, her body molding against his with a natural ease that spoke of their deep, unshakeable bond.
Finally, he turned to Isabella. The Nurse looked up at him, her expression a mix of amusement and deep affection.
"My turn, Captain?" she asked, her voice a sultry challenge.
"Always," he replied, and kissed her. It was a kiss of shared artistry and profound respect, deep and exploring, speaking of a connection that was as much about the harmony of their souls as it was about physical desire.
When he stepped back, the deck was silent save for the gentle lapping of waves against the hull. The four women looked at him, and at each other, a new, unspoken understanding settling over them.
The Sea Scourge stood amidst his angels, the bonds of his crew reforged in the fires of battle and now being sealed in the softest whispers of love and promise.
The Tidereaver sailed on, its course set not just for the next island, but for a future being written in the hearts of its extraordinary crew.