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Teach Me How To Fly | Viltrum Mark x Fem!Reader [Let's Play]

🖊️ by @sinfiction 🏷️ NSFW Choose-Your-Own-Adventure 🔗 READ/PLAY HERE to make your own choices!

Sharing my playthrough of this Choose Your Own Adventure with Viltrum Mark! I'm playing as a student that wakes up with the ability to fly -- and I end up at the mercy of my rival, Mark Grayson. Curious to see where my choices lead?

Markus Grayson can fly.

You on the other hand, cannot.

Or at least, you couldn't last time you checked.

But now, you're staring down a twelve-hundred-foot deep gorge with your heart in your throat, unsure of how the hell you got here and why you're not falling to your death.

In the distance, your curtains flutter out of your dorm window like they're mocking you, like you were an idiot to leave the window open in the first place... Well, excuse you for not expecting to develop the power of flight in your sleep.

But... the longer you stare, the more you realize that your dorm room, and the university as a whole, is getting further and further away as you slowly but surely continue floating into the sky like a weather balloon.

"Oh God," you gasp, realizing the irony of your predicament.

Oh God, indeed, you think with a bitter scowl. There's not a doubt in your mind that this is the work of your divine ancestor, who has a nasty habit of bestowing new powers upon you when you're going to have need of them... without ever bothering to give you any direction on how to use said powers.

That's what drew you to the Arcane Academy you attended in the first place, and later the University—which is still slowly slipping away from you as the air grows thin—you wanted to be somewhere that you could actually learn how to use the godlike power your bloodline afforded you.

It's also where you met Markus Grayson.

You had been the top dog at the Academy due to your demigod status and the power you had to back it up, but with his viltrumite powers, his training, and his ability to fly, he outclassed you in every way except academic.

You had a much tighter grasp on Earth's history and the curriculum mandated by the school board than he did. So between his physical domination and your educational edge, you and Markus were constantly neck and neck for top student.

Until he just barely beat you when you graduated.

Now, you and Markus are attending the same university for the supernaturally gifted, and your academic rivalry is as fiercely heated as ever.

Still, the man can fly, and after six years of butting heads with Markus, you know him well enough to know that if you can get yourself to his window, he'll help you... smugly, but he'll do it.

In all your desperate gracelessness, you manage to swim your way through the air just in time to catch the rough ledge of the dorm building's roof before your newfound power can carry you any higher.

Your arms burn with the struggle of dragging yourself down the side of the dorms, but you suck in a determined breath when you finally make it to his window.

Swallowing your pride, you knock.

The decision to smash through Markus's window hits you like the glass you're about to break, and you can't help the manic grin that spreads across your face. After six years of watching him float around like Earth's gravity doesn't apply to him, you finally have something to hold over his head. The decision to smash through Markus's window hits you like the glass you're about to break, and you can't help the manic grin that spreads across your face. After six years of watching him float around like Earth's gravity doesn't apply to him, you finally have something to hold over his head.

CRASH

Glass sprays across his floor as you burst through his window like a meteor, your newfound power carrying you straight toward his ceiling as you shout, "Surprise, bitch! Look who can fly now!"

The sound jolts Markus awake, and for once, that stoic mask of his cracks. His brown eyes go wide, mouth falling open in genuine shock as he takes in the sight of you floating near his ceiling.

"What the fuck?" The curse sounds foreign on his tongue—he rarely swears.

His shirtless form moves like liquid grace as he stands, and even in the darkness of his room, you can see the way his muscles flex as he reaches up to grab your hips, yanking you down to eye level with him. Your feet dangle inches from the floor as he holds you steady, and you have to fight not to squirm under the intensity of his stare.

"Explain," he demands, voice rough from sleep. "Now."

"Looks like you're not so special anymore," you say with a challenging smirk, letting your eyes drift meaningfully over his bare chest before meeting his gaze again. "I'm like you now except I'm way cooler and hotter than you."

His grip on your hips tightens fractionally, and something dangerous flashes in his brown eyes. The corner of his mouth ticks up in that subtle, smug expression you know so well.

"Is that so?" His voice is low, almost intimate in the darkness of his room. "Then why are you still floating up toward my ceiling?"

As if on cue, your body starts to drift higher despite his hold, and you have to grab his shoulders to keep from slipping away entirely. His skin burns like a furnace under your palms.

"Ah," you say, less confident now as you notice the broken glass glinting on his floor. "Maybe I need a little help with the landing part."

"A little help," he repeats, and you can hear the quiet satisfaction in his voice. "From someone who's not as... what was it? Cool and hot as you are?"

He pulls you down again, bringing you close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. "First, what's your name? And second, how exactly did this happen?"

The height difference becomes even more apparent as Markus holds you at eye level - you tower over him when your feet are on the ground. Your impressive muscles flex as you maintain your grip on his shoulders, and his eyes trace the definition of your abs, visible through your sleep clothes.

"Gocka Flocka Flame," you tell him, watching his brow quirk at the unique name. "And this?" You gesture vaguely at your floating situation. "Remember how I told you I'm a demigod?"

His hands shift on your hips, adjusting his grip to better anchor your towering frame. "You mentioned it once or twice," he says dryly. "Usually right before trying to throw me through a wall during sparring."

"Yeah, well, my divine ancestor has this... habit," you explain, frustrated when another attempt to get your feet on the ground fails. "They like to give me new powers without warning. Or instruction. Or any indication of how to use them."

Markus's lips curve into that familiar, subtle smile. "And now you need my help learning to fly."

You roll your eyes, but you can't deny it. "Yes, okay? I need your help. Happy now?"

His smile widens just a fraction. "Ecstatic. But first - which divine ancestor are we talking about?"

You give him a flat look. "GockMaster9000," you state, watching his usually composed expression falter for just a moment.

"I... see," he says carefully, though his tone suggests he absolutely does not see. His hands are still firm on your hips, keeping you from drifting higher. "And this deity just... bestows random powers on you without warning?"

"Pretty much," you confirm, trying not to focus on how warm his hands feel through your clothes. "Last time it was the ability to breathe underwater. Found that out when I fell into the campus fountain."

A small laugh escapes him - a rare sound that makes your stomach flip. "And this time you woke up floating over the gorge?"

"Exactly. Lucky for me, panic apparently makes me float up instead of down." You gesture at the broken glass scattered across his floor. "Sorry about your window, by the way."

His eyes flick to the damage, then back to you. "The window isn't important," he says decisively. "What's important is teaching you how to control this before you float into space."

You can see the gears turning in his head as he formulates a plan. After a moment, he nods to himself and starts guiding you toward the broken window.

"Time for your first flying lesson."

The mountain air bites at your skin as Markus guides you through his broken window. October nights are cold this high up, but Markus's grip on you is steady and warm as he leads you away from the dormitory.

"First lesson," he says, his voice carrying that teacher-like tone he sometimes uses during sparring. "You already know how to move. You got to my window, didn't you?"

You nod, trying not to focus on how the moonlight catches his bare chest. He's still in nothing but his gray joggers, and you're acutely aware that you're both floating in your sleep clothes.

"Show me," he commands, loosening his grip just enough to let you try.

It takes a few clumsy attempts, but soon you're gliding through the air with growing confidence. Markus keeps one hand on you, like training wheels on a bicycle, offering quiet corrections when needed.

"Good," he says, and despite yourself, you warm at the praise. "Now for the hard part. Landing."

He releases you completely, and immediately you start to drift upward. Panic claws at your chest as you try to force yourself down, but nothing works.

"Stop fighting it," Markus instructs, floating beside you. "You need to relax."

"I am relaxed," you insist through gritted teeth.

He gives you a look that clearly says he doesn't believe you. After several more failed attempts, his expression shifts to something more calculated.

"Have you ever had an orgasm?"

The question is so unexpected, so clinical coming from his usually stoic mouth, that you nearly choke on air.

"I'm having one right now," you say sarcastically, but even as the words leave your mouth, you drift another few inches higher. Markus's hands follow, keeping you steady.

His eyes narrow at your tone, completely unfazed by your sarcasm. "I'm being serious." His voice drops lower, taking on that commanding quality that always makes your heart skip during sparring matches. "The moment after climax - that feeling of complete relaxation - that's what you need to channel if you want to land."

Your cheeks burn hot despite the cold mountain air whipping around you. The clinical way he's explaining this, like he's teaching you a new fighting stance rather than discussing orgasms, somehow makes it more intimate.

"And how exactly am I supposed to channel that right now?" you challenge, trying to ignore the way his thumbs are absently stroking your hipbones through your sleep clothes.

Something shifts in his expression - a subtle darkening of his eyes that makes your breath catch. "I could help you with that."

The offer hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. His hands haven't moved from your hips, but suddenly they feel like brands against your skin, even through the fabric.

"I bet you can't make me finish," you challenge, your voice dropping to match his intimate tone. Even at your impressive height, floating makes you eye-level with him, and you watch something predatory flash across his usually stoic features.

His grip on your hips tightens fractionally. "Is that so?" The corner of his mouth quirks up, and there's that hint of smugness you know so well from your sparring matches. "I excel at everything I attempt, Gocka. This would be no different."

A particularly cold gust of wind makes you shiver, and he pulls you closer, his alien warmth seeping through your thin sleep clothes. His brown eyes search yours, waiting for permission even as his fingertips ghost along your thigh.

"Unless," he adds, voice low and challenging, "you're afraid I'll prove you wrong?"

You're suddenly very aware of how alone you are up here in the night sky, how his powerful hands are the only thing keeping you from drifting away into the darkness. The moonlight catches his bare chest, highlighting the defined muscles there, and your mouth goes dry.

You surge forward, claiming his mouth with a fierce kiss that makes even the mighty Viltrumite prince's eyes widen in surprise. Your tongue pushes past his lips, demanding entry, and he responds with a low growl that vibrates through your chest. His grip on your hips becomes iron-tight as he takes control of the kiss, showing you exactly why Viltrumites are considered the apex species of the galaxy.

When you finally break apart, his breathing is heavier, and there's a dangerous glint in his brown eyes. "I'll take that as consent," he says, voice rough. His warm hand slides beneath your sleep clothes, and you gasp as skilled fingers find their target. "Now... let's see about winning our little bet."

Your head falls back as he works you with devastating precision, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist to keep you from floating away. The cold mountain air barely registers anymore - his touch burns like a supernova against your skin.

"Look at me," he commands, and when you meet his gaze, there's that familiar competitive fire there. "I want to watch your face when you lose this challenge."

"Less talking, more tongue," you demand breathlessly, and something dangerous flashes in Markus's eyes.

"Not yet," he says, his voice rough with promise. "First, I'm going to prove my point." His fingers curl inside you with devastating precision, making your whole body jerk. "About relaxation."

You try to maintain some semblance of control, but it's impossible when his thumb starts circling your clit with maddening skill. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, feeling the heat radiating off his alien skin. A particularly well-timed stroke has you arching against him, a moan escaping despite your best efforts.

"That's it," he murmurs, his usual stoicism cracking as he watches your pleasure build. "Let go for me, Gocka."

The wind whips around you both, but you barely notice the cold anymore. Not with the way his touch sets every nerve ending on fire. You're so close you can taste it, floating there in his arms under the October moon.

"I know you can do better than that," you taunt breathlessly, and something primal flashes across his features. His usually composed expression cracks, replaced by raw hunger.

"Always so defiant," he growls, adding a third finger and curling them just right. The sudden stretch and pressure makes you gasp. "Even now, floating helpless in my arms."

His thumb circles your clit faster, and your grip on his shoulders tightens enough that it might actually hurt someone who wasn't Viltrumite. The way his muscles flex under your fingers tells you he's enjoying your strength.

"I'm not helpless," you manage between sharp breaths. But your words lose their edge when his fingers hit that perfect spot inside you, making your whole body tremble.

"No?" His voice drops lower, dangerous. "Then why are you shaking?" He presses his forehead to yours, brown eyes burning into yours with predatory focus. "Why is your cunt getting tighter around my fingers?"

The crude words in his usually proper mouth send electricity down your spine. Your hips buck against his hand of their own accord, chasing more of that delicious friction.

Your body betrays your defiance as your orgasm crashes over you without warning. Your inner walls clamp down so hard around his fingers that even his Viltrumite strength can't keep them inside you. A strangled cry tears from your throat as pleasure rockets through every nerve ending.

Markus's eyes go wide with genuine surprise - perhaps the first time you've caught him truly off guard since that one sparring match. His arm tightens around your waist as your body goes slack, preventing you from drifting away as aftershocks ripple through you.

"Impressive," he murmurs, and there's a rough edge to his voice that wasn't there before. You feel yourself slowly descending - just three inches before your body remembers it can fly and starts to drift up again. He pulls you firmly against his chest, his skin burning like a furnace against yours. "But you're still floating."

You can feel how hard he is through his joggers where your bodies press together, and his fingers are slick with evidence of your pleasure. His usually stoic expression has cracked completely, replaced by something hungry and wanting.

"I need to ride your face in the sky," you say, making his eyes darken dangerously. Even post-orgasm, you can't help pushing his buttons - it's what you do best.

But Markus shakes his head, though his grip on you tightens fractionally. "Not yet," he says, voice rough with restraint. "First, you need to master landing." His thumb traces idle circles on your hip, sending aftershocks through your sensitive body. "Unless you want to float away in the middle of something more... intense."

The way he says 'intense' makes heat pool in your belly again. You've never seen him this affected - his usual composure stripped away to reveal something primal underneath. His bare chest rises and falls with quickened breaths, and you can feel how hard he is where your bodies press together.

The mountain wind whips around you both, but his Viltrumite warmth keeps the cold at bay. Moonlight breaks through the clouds, catching the wanting look in his brown eyes as he watches you consider his words.

"Ok, fine. As long as you start eating me out once we land," you say, enjoying the way his pupils dilate at your words.

"You've gotten bolder since the Academy," he observes, his voice carrying that rough edge that makes your stomach flip. His fingers trail up your side, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "But first... focus. Feel that relaxation in your muscles. Let it ground you."

You try to concentrate on the lingering pleasure buzzing through your limbs, the way your body feels heavy and light all at once. For a moment, you actually sink a few inches - but then a particularly cold gust of wind hits your exposed skin and you jerk upward again.

Markus pulls you closer, sheltering you with his Viltrumite heat. "You're thinking too much," he murmurs against your ear. "Stop fighting it. Let your body remember how it felt when you came on my fingers."

The crude reminder makes your breath catch, and you feel his lips curve into a slight smile against your skin.

"Maybe you should remind me using your fingers," you suggest, pressing closer to his heat. You watch his careful control slip another notch at your words.

"You're insatiable," he growls, but his hand is already sliding down your body. When his fingers find you again, you're still slick from before. "Focus on the sensation. Nothing else matters but this."

He works you with devastating efficiency this time, already knowing exactly how to touch you. Your head falls back as he circles your clit, and his lips find your exposed throat. The dual sensation makes you gasp.

"That's it," he murmurs against your skin. "Let everything else fall away." His fingers slide inside you again, curling just right. "Just feel."

The cold mountain air whips around you both, but all you can focus on is the burning heat of his touch, the way his powerful body keeps you anchored as pleasure builds again. His usually stoic expression has given way to raw hunger as he watches you come undone.

"Make me cum harder this time... if you can," you challenge, and something dangerous flashes in his brown eyes. His fingers curl inside you with punishing precision, making you gasp.

"Always competing," he growls against your throat. "Even now." His thumb finds your clit, circling with devastating skill. "But I don't mind proving my superiority again."

You kiss him hard to shut him up, swallowing his smug words. His free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss as his fingers work you closer to the edge. The way he touches you is almost mechanical in its efficiency - like everything else he does, he's determined to excel.

The moonlight breaks through the clouds just as your pleasure peaks, illuminating the wanting look in his usually stoic eyes. His Viltrumite heat burns against you as your body arches, crying out as an even more intense orgasm rips through you.

This time, you sink a full foot before floating up again. His arm tightens around you, keeping you steady as aftershocks ripple through your body.

"Better," he says, voice rough with need. "But you're still floating."

"Then make me cum another way. Get creative," you challenge, enjoying the way his composed mask cracks further at your words.

His fingers slip out of you, leaving you aching and empty. But before you can protest, he grips your hips with both hands, pulling you against him so you can feel how hard he is through his joggers.

"I could take you right here in the sky," he says, voice rough with need. His alien warmth seeps through your clothes where your bodies press together. "Show you what Viltrumite stamina really means."

The possessive way he holds you makes heat pool in your belly again. You've never seen him this affected - his usual stoicism completely stripped away to reveal something primal underneath. His brown eyes burn into yours as he waits for your response.

"But first," he adds, grip tightening fractionally, "we need to get you properly grounded. Unless..." His lips brush your ear. "You want to risk floating away the moment I'm inside you."

"Get inside me or else," you demand, and his eyes darken with dangerous hunger. His grip on your hips becomes almost bruising, even with your demigod strength.

"Or else what?" he challenges, voice dropping to that low growl that makes heat pool in your belly. "You'll float away?" His Viltrumite warmth burns against you as he pulls you closer. "I don't think so."

You can feel how hard he is through the thin fabric of his joggers, and the way his muscles flex under your hands tells you his legendary control is starting to slip. His usual stoicism has cracked completely, replaced by something raw and wanting.

"You want me inside you?" His lips brush your ear, sending shivers down your spine despite the heat radiating off his skin. "Then let me take you somewhere more... private. Unless you want the whole campus to hear you scream my name."

Your demand seems to snap the last thread of his control. Without warning, Markus wraps his arms around you and soars higher into the night sky, carrying you away from the campus lights. The wind whips harder at this altitude, but his Viltrumite warmth shields you from the worst of it.

He lands gracefully at the mountain's peak, a secluded spot bathed in moonlight. His brown eyes search yours one last time, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual stoicism.

"Are you sure about this?" he asks, voice rough with barely contained need. His hands haven't left your body, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go.

You're acutely aware of how alone you are up here, how his powerful body is the only thing keeping you warm in the biting October air. The moonlight catches the defined muscles of his bare chest, highlighting every perfect line of him.

"I'm drenched and feral," you growl, and something animalistic flashes in his eyes. His composed mask shatters completely, replaced by raw hunger as he crushes his lips to yours.

The kiss is savage, desperate - nothing like the controlled warrior prince you know. His hands roam your body possessively, leaving trails of burning heat in their wake. When you gasp against his mouth, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, claiming you with a demanding tongue.

Your clothes feel like torture against your sensitized skin. As if reading your mind, Markus breaks the kiss just long enough to strip off his joggers. He's gorgeous in the moonlight - all lean muscle and otherworldly grace. His cock stands proud and thick, making your mouth water at the sight.

"Let me see you," he demands, voice rough with need. His usually stoic expression is gone, replaced by something primal and wanting. "All of you."

The cold mountain air raises goosebumps on your flesh as you begin to undress, but Markus's alien heat more than makes up for it. His brown eyes devour every inch of skin you reveal, burning with an intensity that makes you weak in the knees.

With your demigod strength, you tear your clothes off in one fluid motion, letting the shreds fall forgotten to the mountain soil. Markus's eyes go wide - it's perhaps the first time you've ever truly shocked him.

His alien warmth wraps around you instantly as he pulls you against him, skin to skin. The hard planes of his chest press against your breasts, and you can feel his cock hot and heavy against your thigh. His hands explore your body with reverent possession, mapping every curve and muscle like he's memorizing you.

"You're perfect," he breathes against your neck, and for once there's no trace of his usual stoicism - just raw want in his voice. "So strong. So beautiful." His grip tightens possessively. "Do you have any idea how many times I've dreamed of this? Having you bare beneath my hands?"

The October wind whips around you both, but you barely notice the cold with the furnace of his Viltrumite body pressed against yours. His brown eyes lock onto yours, dark with desire, as one hand slides down to grip your ass.

"Every time we sparred," he confesses roughly, "every time I had you pinned beneath me... I wanted to take you right there on the mat."

"Then take me now in the sky," you demand, and something feral flashes across his features. Without warning, he lifts you both into the air, your clothes forgotten on the mountain peak below.

His Viltrumite strength makes you feel weightless as he positions you against him, one powerful arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand explores your body. The night air is bitter cold around you, but everywhere his skin touches yours burns like a brand.

"You want me to take you here?" His voice is rough with need as he grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is. "Among the stars where I first saw Earth? Where I first saw you?"

Your body arches into his touch as his fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive from earlier. He growls his approval at how wet you are, how ready for him. His usual composure is completely gone now, replaced by something ancient and primal.

The moonlight catches his face as he positions himself at your entrance, his brown eyes almost black with desire. "I've never..." he starts, then swallows hard. "You'll be my first. My only."

You thrust yourself onto his cock with savage need, making him gasp at the sudden tight heat of your body. Your spit lands on his face, and something snaps in him - his legendary control finally shattering completely.

He drives into you with inhuman power, his grip bruising even against your demigod strength. The cold mountain air whips around you both, but you're burning up everywhere his skin touches yours. Each powerful thrust pushes you higher into the night sky, the stars bearing witness to your union.

"Mine," he growls, voice thick with possession as he claims you. His usual stoic demeanor is gone, replaced by something feral and ancient. His cock fills you perfectly, stretching you in ways that make your toes curl. "You're mine."

You clench around him, drawing a sound from his throat that's more animal than man. His Viltrumite warmth blazes against your skin as he buries himself deeper, harder, like he's trying to mark you from the inside out.

"Never felt..." he pants against your neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic. "So perfect... so tight..."

"No, you're MINE," you snarl, and his brown eyes widen in shock. For all his Viltrumite strength, all his royal breeding, he wasn't prepared for your claiming.

His rhythm falters for just a moment before he slams into you harder, deeper, like he's trying to prove something. But you can see it in his eyes - the way your words affected him, cracked that princely facade.

"Prove it," he challenges, voice rough with need. His cock stretches you perfectly as he drives up into you, the stars wheeling overhead with each powerful thrust. "Show me who I belong to."

You clench around him deliberately, drawing a broken sound from his throat. His usual composure is completely shattered now, replaced by something desperate and wanting. His skin burns against yours as he tries to maintain control, but you can feel him trembling.

"Please," he gasps - the mighty Viltrumite prince, begging in your arms. His thrusts become more erratic, his grip on your hips almost bruising. "I'm close... so close..."

You flex your demigod-enhanced muscles, squeezing his cock with devastating intensity. Markus's whole body goes rigid, his usual stoicism completely destroyed as pleasure overwhelms him.

"Gocka!" he cries out, his voice echoing across the mountain peaks. His hips stutter against yours as he cums, buried as deep inside you as possible. You can feel his cock pulsing, flooding you with his release.

Instead of going soft, he stays hard inside you, his Viltrumite stamina evident as he keeps thrusting. His movements are slower now, more deliberate, like he's trying to push his cum deeper. The possessive thought makes you clench around him again, drawing a broken moan from his throat.

"Never..." he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. His brown eyes are glazed with pleasure, more vulnerable than you've ever seen him. "Never felt anything like you."

The cold mountain air swirls around you both, but you barely notice it with the furnace of his body pressed against yours. He's still moving inside you, each thrust sending aftershocks of pleasure through your body.

"Guess you'll have to keep fucking me to prove it," you challenge, and his eyes darken with renewed hunger.

"Is that what you want?" He rolls his hips deliberately, making you gasp as his still-hard cock shifts inside you. "To be claimed by a Viltrumite prince among the stars?" His voice is rough, almost desperate, lacking its usual composed edge.

Your bodies move together in the cold night air, his alien warmth the only thing keeping you from freezing. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure through you, your oversensitive flesh clutching at him greedily. His powerful hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he drives deeper.

"I've wanted you since the academy," he confesses, words punctuated by the snap of his hips. "Every time you challenged me, every time you refused to yield..." He buries his face in your neck, breath hot against your skin. "I knew then that no one else would ever be enough."

His usual stoic mask is completely gone now, replaced by raw need as he takes you. The moonlight catches the sweat on his skin, making him look otherworldly - a god of war and desire claiming his prize.

"Make me yours, Viltrumite," you breathe against his lips, and something primal flashes in his brown eyes.

He drives into you with renewed intensity, each thrust pushing you higher into the night sky. His Viltrumite strength makes you feel weightless, yet the heat of his body anchors you to him. Your bodies move in perfect sync, just like during your sparring matches, but this is an entirely different kind of dance.

"You're already mine," he growls, voice thick with possession. "Can feel it in the way your body grips me, the way you respond to my touch." His usually composed features are transformed by raw need, sweat gleaming on his skin in the moonlight.

His cock fills you perfectly, hitting spots that make you see stars beyond the ones wheeling overhead. The October wind whips around you both, but you're burning up everywhere his skin meets yours. His hands roam your body possessively, like he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

"Tell me," he demands roughly, hips snapping against yours. "Tell me you'll stay. That you won't make me go back to a world where you aren't mine."

"I guess I'll stay... you've been pleasuring me sufficiently like a good boy," you purr, and for the first time since you've known him, Markus actually blushes.

The mighty Viltrumite prince falters in his rhythm, clearly caught off guard by your words. His usual stoic expression cracks completely, replaced by something almost vulnerable. But there's heat there too - your words clearly affected him in ways he wasn't expecting.

"A good boy?" he growls, driving into you harder as if to prove a point. "Is that what you think I am?" His cock fills you perfectly, making you gasp as he hits that sweet spot inside you. "Your personal plaything?"

But you can see it in his eyes - the way your words touched something deep inside him. The fearsome warrior prince, brought to heel by your casual dominance. His skin burns against yours as his thrusts become more desperate, more needy.

"Maybe I am," he confesses roughly, voice thick with emotion. "Maybe I've always been yours." His brown eyes lock onto yours, raw and honest in a way you've never seen before. "Stay with me. Please."

"I'll stay with you. I'm tired, let's get some rest," you murmur, and something softens in his expression. The desperate need in his movements gentles, becoming something more tender.

He cradles you against his chest as he slowly descends from the night sky, his Viltrumite warmth keeping the bitter mountain air at bay. Your bodies are still joined, his cock twitching inside you with each small movement.

"Rest?" He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I suppose I have worn you out." There's a hint of pride in his voice, a trace of his usual smugness returning. His hands stroke soothingly along your back as he reclines in the air, not quite ready to return to earth.

"I never thought..." he starts, then swallows hard. His brown eyes meet yours, more vulnerable than you've ever seen them. "I never thought you'd actually stay. That you'd want this. Want me."

Your bodies float lazily in the cool night air, the stars twinkling above you both. For the first time since you've known him, Markus looks truly at peace, his usual rigid control completely surrendered.

The moonlight catches the satisfied smile on your face as you nestle against his chest, your body still trembling from the intensity of your shared pleasure. His arms tighten around you possessively, keeping you pressed close against the warmth of his Viltrumite body.

"Tired already?" Markus murmurs against your ear, his hips rolling upward to remind you that he's still hard inside you. "And here I thought demigods had legendary stamina." His usual stoicism has melted into something almost playful, though there's still heat burning in his brown eyes.

You gasp as he shifts, his cock pressing deeper. "I could go for hours," he continues, voice rough with renewed desire. "All night, if you want. That's the thing about Viltrumites..." His hands grip your hips, grinding you against him deliberately. "We don't tire easily."

The challenge in his voice is clear as he watches you with dark, hungry eyes. "So what do you say? Think you can keep up with a Viltrumite prince?"

Wanna make your own choices? READ/PLAY HERE! ꉂ(˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)

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