Ronan didn’t waste time. He ripped off the hospital rags and tossed them aside. Now he was just as naked as the goddess in his lap.

It took every ounce of willpower not to take her right then and there. He needed to be proper about this. She was a goddess. His power and her existence literally depended on intimacy.

He couldn’t be a quick shot. He needed to be a skilled lover.

Something he had zero experience in. But it wasn’t like he was unwilling to learn.

"Tell me if it hurts," he muttered.

Sarael shook her head so fast her hair blurred.

"N-No, it’s fine. I don’t care if it hurts. I just want you to feel good."

Ronan sighed.

’Right...’

He’d almost forgotten. This goddess would do literally anything for him. Of course, pain wasn’t a problem. If he had to guess, she probably had a fetish for it.

But he wasn’t going there. Not tonight, at least.

"I’ll... keep that in mind."

His hands found the underside of her breasts. Sarael’s eyes locked onto his face like daggers, scanning every micro-expression, checking to see if her body measured up. She wasn’t being needy anymore. She was being attentive.

"D-Do you like them? The size? I can change them if you want."

"No, they’re perfect. Don’t change a thing."

Ronan leaned in and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his thumb circled the other. Sarael’s whole body jerked against him.

That was all it took.

He felt the wetness spill across his stomach and thighs. She’d already climaxed. Just from that.

"Already?" he murmured against her skin.

"R-Ronan~!"

Her voice cracked on his name, half-moan, half-whimper, her fingers digging into his shoulders like he was the only solid thing in the world.

That voice snapped something in Ronan. His mind went blank with lust.

’Fuck, she’s way too cute!’

He flipped their positions without thinking, Sarael on her back now, pressed into the mattress, him looming above her. One hand braced against the bed. The other pressed flat against her stomach.

He didn’t wait. His hand slid lower, down past her hips, fingers finding her pussy already soaked. He pushed two inside without preamble.

Sarael’s back arched off the mattress.

"Ah~! R-Ronan, your fingers... they’re so thick~!"

Her voice broke into a moan, heart-shaped pupils rolling back as her shadows thrashed against the walls. She was already clenching around him, already falling apart, and he’d barely started.

He curled his fingers inside her, slow and experimental, watching her face. Every micro-expression. Every flutter of her lashes. She was ridiculously responsive. The kind of responsive that made a man feel like a god even when he had no idea what he was doing.

"More," she breathed. "Please, more—"

He added a third finger.

Sarael’s hips bucked against his hand. Her shadows went wild, lashing against the walls, knocking over a dusty lamp in the corner.

"You’re so wet," he muttered, half to himself.

He didn’t speed up, nor did he rush. He watched her face while his fingers worked inside her, studying the way her jaw went slack and her heart-shaped pupils dilated even wider every time he curled them just right.

Sarael wasn’t quiet. Every motion pulled a new sound from her throat. Sharp gasps, broken moans, little whimpers that vibrated against his palm when he leaned down to mouth at her neck.

"Ronan—Ronan, I’m—again, already—"

She didn’t finish her sentence as her walls clamped down around his fingers and she came with a sob, her whole body locking up beneath him. Her shadows collapsed against the walls like puppets with their strings cut, sliding down to pool limp and spent across the floorboards.

Ronan pulled his fingers out slowly, watching the slick strand that followed. He was hard enough that it bordered on painful.

"Sorry," she whispered, still trembling. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to finish so fast again. Give me a moment and I’ll—"

"You don’t have to apologize."

"But I want to be good. I want to make you feel good."

He leaned down and kissed her forehead, which made her freeze mid-sentence.

"You already are. Just relax."

She blinked up at him, heart-shaped pupils flickering back to round for a single confused second. Then they warped right back into hearts.

"R-Ronan, please... let me make you feel good next."

Sarael pushed him back with a surprising amount of strength, and before Ronan knew it, he was the one on his back with the mattress creaking under his weight.

She crawled toward him on her hands and knees, her hips swaying with each slow movement, her tongue tracing across her lower lip like she was savoring something that hadn’t even touched her mouth yet.

"What are you doing now?"

"Shhh."

She pressed a finger to his lips, her smile soft and knowing and just a little too wide to be innocent.

Her other hand wrapped around him, already hard and warm against her palm, and she shuffled herself lower until her face hovered inches away, close enough that he could feel each breath ghosting across his skin.

"You’ve already made me finish two times."

She murmured, her violet eyes flicking up to meet his.

"It’s not fair if I’m the only one enjoying myself."

She tilted her head, that same smile still playing at the corners of her mouth, and her fingers tightened just enough to make his breath catch.

"Let me take care of you now. It’s my turn."