Trapped In Elysium: A Virtual Reality Nightmare-Chapter 163: Time loop (R-18)

Liam and the queen stayed locked in their 69 position for a moment longer, their bodies trembling on the cold sarcophagus, the air thick with the scent of their sweat and release.

Her lips lingered on his cock, his cum still warm and sticky on her face, dripping down her chin as she licked it slow, savoring the salty taste.

Her big breasts remained pressed against his stomach, heaving with every shaky breath, while Liam’s face was soaked with her juices, her sweet, musky squirt coating his lips, his cheeks, dripping onto the stone below.

Fuck, that was... unreal, he thought, his hands still gripping her plump ass, his tongue giving one last lazy lick to her pussy, making her shiver. Their moans had faded, replaced by heavy, ragged breathing, the light from the torches flickering over their sweaty, tangled bodies.

Then it hit them—both at once, like a bucket of cold water. Their eyes widened, snapping open as the haze of lust cleared, and reality crashed in. What the hell did we just do? Liam thought, his heart thudding hard, not from pleasure now but from a sudden, sharp awareness.

He’d just fucked an ancient queen, right here in a king’s tomb, on ancient sarcophagus, and not just fucked—sucked, tasted, came all over her like it was nothing.

She’s... she’s not even human, not really, he thought, his mind racing, remembering how she’d been sealed away for centuries. His hands froze on her thighs, his breath catching as he looked up at her, her dark hair spilling over the stone, her face still glistening with his cum.

The queen’s thoughts were spinning just as fast. Gods, I... I let this happen, she thought, her body still trembling from the climax, her pussy throbbing, but her eyes wide with shock. She’d given herself to him completely—sucked his cock, squirted on his face, let him take her like some mortal lover—right here, in this sacred place, on her husband’s sarcophagus.

She’d forgotten how good it could feel, how alive, but now the weight of it hit her—what she’d done, who she’d done it with. He’s just a young man, she thought, her hands shaking as she pushed herself up, her breasts swaying as she sat back, his cock slipping from her mouth.

They stared at each other, eyes locked, both panting, both grappling with the enormity of it. The tomb felt smaller now, the stone walls closing in, the torchlights casting harsh shadows over their messy, cum-streaked bodies.

This... this changes everything, Liam thought, his throat tight, not sure if he should move, speak, or just stay there, frozen. The queen swallowed hard, her face flushed, his cum still on her lips, and she thought, What have I unleashed? Neither moved, the silence heavy, their wide-eyed realization hanging between them like a blade, sharp and undeniable.

But then the queen’s eyes opened slowly... and something was wrong.

Very wrong.

It wasn’t the sex—though she realized how strange and dangerous that moment had been. It was what followed. The silence. The stillness of the treasure. The weight in the air. Something wasn’t right.

And then it struck her.

A horrible, cold awareness settled over her like a wet shroud.

She sat up abruptly, still naked, her heart pounding with more urgency now—not desire, but fear. Her gaze snapped to the treasure glowing behind them, and the realization bloomed like poison in her chest.

"No..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Liam stirred beside her. "What is it?"

But before she could speak, before the words could leave her mouth—

The tomb erupted in blinding white light.

They both cried out, shielding their eyes—

And then it was gone.

And so was everything.

The stone beneath their skin.

The sweat on their bodies.

The memory of what they’d done.

They were standing once more—just like before—an impossible heartbeat away from touching. No breathless limbs. No messy aftermath. No shared gaze over ruined control.

Just tension.

Desire.

And confusion.

Again.

Liam blinked, as if surfacing from a dream. The queen’s lips parted slightly, her eyes still locked to his. But now there was no recollection. No weight of what had already passed in some cruel second that didn’t exist anymore.

Time had folded.

Reset.

And they didn’t know.

Couldn’t know.

The trap wasn’t made of fire or blades. It was made of seduction. A loop built to feed on their weakness. A test of lust that would lure them to surrender over and over again—until time itself devoured them whole.

And here they were... staring once more.

Both unaware they’d already failed.

Already given in.

Already doomed to fall again.

How do you escape what you don’t even remember?

How do you fight what you can’t see?

They didn’t know.

They couldn’t know.

And so the moment lingered.

Just before touch.

Just before surrender.

And time waited... ready to devour them again.

And so, once again, it happened.

Neither of them could explain why, or how, but they found themselves in each other’s arms once more—drawn like magnets, lips meeting before logic had a chance to interfere. It was as though some unseen thread had tugged their bodies toward one another, repeating a moment they couldn’t recall having lived through already. The atmosphere was charged, thick with the silent hum of something unnatural weaving through the air. The treasure on the altar pulsed faintly, like a beating heart keeping time to something far more ancient than either of them could comprehend.

Then—darkness. Light. Time rolled back.

They were standing again, facing each other with fire in their eyes and breath uneven, unaware they’d been here before, and might be again. The room was silent. But the treasure glowed ominously in the corner, as if watching. As if waiting.

And the loop continued.

Unseen. Unbroken. Unforgiving.

Each time it happened, the world rewound itself like the pages of a book snapping shut, only to flutter open again at the same Chapter. The warmth of the chamber faded, the golden light around the treasure pulsed again—and they were back where they’d started. Always the same. Always that gaze. Always the pull.

And every single time, the queen felt it.

A strange stillness in her bones. A tickle in the back of her mind. She couldn’t explain it, but something wasn’t right. Like she’d lived this moment before. A flash of emotion she couldn’t source. A phantom weight in her chest, a taste of breathless urgency that came and went like smoke.

Déjà vu.

It whispered through her blood like a forgotten name, like a song heard once in a dream. And yet, it never came clear. The sensation haunted her each time the loop reset, lingering like the echo of a scream she hadn’t heard yet. She looked around—everything was in place. Liam, the treasure, the glow. All as it should be.

Except it wasn’t.

She knew something was wrong, but couldn’t place it. Liam remained unaware, caught in the moment each time like it was brand new. But her mind—stronger, sharper—kept catching glimpses. Slivers. Threads of something just beyond reach.

And that hollow feeling grew with each return.