Hel steadied a hand on the man's chest as the fury of heat between them was strong enough to start a blaze. He could dwell on the overstanding of intangible, unintelligible sounds that filled this room and threatened to dismantle it at each joint. Maybe even the turbulent vibrations that reverberated through the foundation. However, he chose to delight in something more delectable. Satana.
One palm into his chest kept him firmly against the 'ground' as he could only imagine the surface of this glass prism; a construct thanks to Hela's own improvision, allowed them to see fractiles through the reflections cast at every angle. Some would've been overstimulated visually. The cold stimuli of the glass against bare skin. The warmth of shared space. The sounds-- oh so many sounds, at every second. It was wonderful to know that Satana hadn't tapped out. Not yet.
Back to the delight.
Hel rode Satana wildly. Careful not to test the physical durability of the incubus' conditioning but enough to give very little refractory period between feeling his heavy balls slap against Hel's hungry, cum-filled ass. Neither seemed to have exhausted their reserves so Hel would continue. His back arches deep, taking him to the limit of their anatomical limits and he eased, springing against him. Not to mention, his own stance allowed him a greater degree of motion.
One foot planted just near Satana's shoulder and the other just outside of his hip. He controls the contractions of his sphincter, milking him of every drop. The speed and strength of each bounce beyond mortal limitations. The meeting of 'pelvis to ass' almost silenced their own euphoric harmonies. His eyes already rolled upwards. Every inch of him barrels into his wanting depths. Every inch squeezed as if he needed it to survive.
