He slid his cock through the sweaty hollow, the head popping out the front near her collarbone before dragging back down into the depths. The musk of her armpit was intoxicating, a concentrated dose of her womanhood that he inhaled with every stroke.
Schlick. Schlick.
The sound was obscene... skin sliding against sweaty skin. But to Lyra, dazed and naive, it was just the sound of vigorous healing.
"Tighten it," Sol growled, slapping her shoulder. "Squeeze harder, Aunt. Don’t let the tool slip."
Lyra whimpered, using her lat muscles to clamp down on the foreign object gliding against her sensitive skin. She had no idea it was a cock; she just felt a hot, rhythmic rod working out the stiffness in her shoulder, sending confusing, sharp jolts of pleasure through her side.
"It feels... hot," she moaned. "It burns, Sol! Is it working?"
"It’s working perfectly," he lied, picking up his pace. He was fucking her armpit with the same ferocity he would have used on her cunt. He watched the head of his cock emerge from her armpit with every thrust, glistening with her sweat, rubbing against the side of her heaving breast.
"You are taking the treatment so well, Aunt," he panted, the visual driving him to the edge. "Just like that... hold it tight."
The friction was maddening, a searing, wet heat that rivaled the sensation of the tightest pussy he had ever felt (which honestly was just one). He gritted his teeth, his hips snapping forward with animalistic ferocity. The hollow of Lyra’s armpit was a surprisingly powerful sin, slick with the honest sweat of her labor, creating a suction that dragged at his sensitivity with every withdrawal.
"Good," Sol grunted, his breath hot and ragged against the nape of her neck. "Just like that. Keep it tight.."
He wasn’t satisfied with just the armpit anymore. The deviance needed to go deeper.
He reached around with his free hand, his fingers digging into the soft, heavy flesh of her left breast. He squeezed it ruthlessly, pushing the mammary gland inward, forcing it against his cock as it slid back and forth.
Lyra gasped, her body jolting. "Sol! That is my breast...!"
"The chest muscles are connected to the shoulder!" he barked, not slowing down. "I have to squeeze the stagnation out of the glands too! Take it!"
She just hummed in response.
Now, he was fucking the space between her inner arm and her crushed breast. With every thrust, the head of his cock popped out near her collarbone, angry and purple, slapping against the swell of her chest before plunging back down into the musky depths.
Schlick. Thwack. Schlick.
The sound was obscene... wet skin colliding with wet skin, the heavy impact of his pelvis slamming against her ribs. But to Lyra, lost in the haze of endorphins and trust, it was just the sound of a violent, miraculous cure.
"It feels... strange!" she wailed, her head thrashing on the furs. The friction against the sensitive nerves of her side-boob was sending confusing, sharp jolts of pleasure radiating through her chest. "The heat... it’s spreading to my heart!"
"That’s the poison breaking up!" Sol lied through clenched teeth, his control fraying. The scent was driving him feral...acrid, salty, and powerfully female. It was the scent of a woman who survived in the wild, undiluted by perfumes.
"I’m going to extract it now, Aunt! I’m going to pull the sickness out!"
He grabbed a fistful of her damp hair, yanking her head back so her throat was exposed to the ceiling. He picked up his pace to a blurring, punishing rhythm. He was using her body like a piece of meat, defiling his aunt under the guise of medicine.
"Prepare yourself!" he roared, slamming his hips against her ribs one final time, the friction pushing him over the edge. "Here it comes! The release!"
"Pull it out!" Lyra screamed, thinking he was about to rip a spiritual parasite from her body. "Take it out of me!"
"YES!"
Sol didn’t pull out. He shoved deeper, burying himself to the root in the tight, sweaty vice of her armpit, and let go.
With a guttural, primal groan, he finally erupted.
Thick, hot ropes of seed shot out from the tunnel formed by her arm and breast. Because of the angle, the fluids didn’t just drip....they splattered, splashing heavily across Lyra’s shoulder, painting her collarbone, and splattering up the side of her neck and ran in rivets down the swell of her breast.
The white fluid stood out starkly against her dark, sweat-sheened skin.
Lyra flinched violently at the sudden, scalding heat splashing over her skin.
"Ah!" she cried out, her eyes flying open. "It burns! Sol, it’s hot! The poison is hot!"
"That is the concentrated heat of the sickness leaving you," Sol panted, his legs shaking as he continued to spasm, emptying every drop of his lust onto her skin. He panted heavily, his chest heaving, watching the fluids drip slowly down her shoulder to mingle with the sweat in her armpit. It was a masterpiece of absolute defilement.
"There," Sol breathed, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He used his thumb to smear the fresh semen into her shoulder, blending it with her sweat, marking her. "It is thick... dark energy turned to fluid."
Lyra lay there, panting, her chest heaving. She felt the hot, sticky liquid sliding down her skin, pooling in the hollow of her throat. She felt drained, light-headed, and strangely euphoric.
"It is out..." she murmured, her voice thick and sleepy, completely unaware that she was covered in her nephew’s cum. "I feel... so peaceful. The pain is gone."
Sol smirked, pulling his softening cock back. It made a loud, wet squelch as it left her armpit.
"See?" he whispered, wiping his slick hand on the tunic on her ass. "I told you I could fix you."
He stepped back, beginning to adjust his trousers with fumbling hands. He had barely buttoned the first loop when the sound of footsteps crunched on the gravel outside.
"Mother? Sol?"