Lilith remained seated, her thighs parted like two unread pages from a sacred, forbidden book.
The faint moonlight spilled over her body, casting soft highlights along her curves—
making each one appear like an illusion,
an invitation to either salvation... or ruin.
And Nathan... still knelt before her.
His head bowed low in reverence,
pressing soft kisses onto the glistening altar of flesh.
Lilith supported herself with both elbows behind her, her breath caught in her chest.
She felt Nathan’s saliva trickling slowly between the folds of her inner sanctum.
her folds began to overflow—his saliva mixing with her own sacred nectar. It glistened like dew on cursed petals, pooling with soft, sticky defiance. Each drop rolled down her thighs like ancient ink from a forbidden scroll, writing a wet scripture only his tongue could read.
As a being far more advanced than any human,
Lilith—finally—understood.
She understood why humanity once bowed to its strange hunger,
to that primal yearning to seed and be seeded by its own flesh and blood.
In this moment, she felt closer to Nathan.
Not because of his power.
Not because of dominance.
But because of the silent devotion in every kiss he placed
on her fresh, untouched flesh—
which, until now, had only been known by the careful touch
of her own index and middle fingers.
Nathan’s tongue moved again, slowly—
as if tracing a forgotten altar, one he could never comprehend... only feel.
He wasn’t licking like a man driven by hunger.
He circled her entrance with methodical pressure, tracing lazy spirals that somehow felt more intimate than thrusts. Every flick of his tongue was a question—and her body trembled with each answer. He wasn’t just touching; he was learning her, line by trembling line.
He was touching—like a child searching for meaning.
His saliva, already slick against his tongue, began to mix with Milky Mommy’s natural nectar.
Lilith bit her lower lip.
A soft, wet slurp echoed through the stone chamber—followed by her breathy gasp. She hated the sound. She loved the sound. It was the Tower’s version of moaning: soaked, obscene, and holy. Her hips jerked forward, craving the music of his mouth.
Her body tensed—not from arousal alone,
but because the sensation scrambled her memories.
A strange wave surged from her tailbone.
but something foreign—like she was being touched into becoming a creature capable of crying without reason.
Her hands, which had been supporting her weight from behind, slowly shifted.
She touched Nathan’s hair.
Her toes curled, and her inner walls clenched—reacting like they had minds of their own. It wasn’t climax... not yet. Just a raw, needy twitch of worship-hunger. The kind that made her thighs ache for more friction. For more tongue. For more devotion.
Not pulling—just holding.
Keeping the boy close.
Keeping him alive among folds of memories that had never been opened.
"If you keep going ..." Lilith whispered, her voice thin as mist,
"...My son, agghhh... Mommy is gonna ahhhh..."
pressing his tongue slightly deeper into the one spot that felt like the center of all prayers.
His tongue danced with cruel precision, tracing soft, obscene calligraphy against her folds. Each stroke felt like a signature carved in heat. Lilith gasped—because it wasn’t just pleasure anymore. It was a vow. He was writing his name inside her, not in ink or blood, but with wet devotion.
but because for the first time, after millennia of despising mankind,
the peak of her joy now came from the taste of a human.
"The world... has lost so much," she murmured.
"But I... I may have just rediscovered a new sensation.
Lilith was about to reach the peak of pleasure.
Her body tensed, and that feeling—the one she had once grown to crave, often summoned through her own solo sloppings—returned now like a white storm rising from the depths of her core.
But before she could taste the release...
Nathan pulled her thighs apart.
With both hands, cold yet full of intention, he shifted her body, slowly dragging her until her back was flat against the cold stone floor.
"N-Ngh... Nathan...?"
That voice wasn’t a moan.
It was the whisper of a divine being—shocked at being worshipped more wildly than she ever imagined.
Nathan didn’t answer.
His eyes locked onto that part of her—not as a man gazes at a woman’s sex,
but as a genius stares at the final painting of a fallen god.
"Mom... let me love you," he whispered between ragged breaths.
He lowered his head again.
But this time... not slowly.
His tongue struck the altar like a storm bowing to a sacred tree.
He wasn’t licking—he was worshipping.
Pressing his lips against her as if that part was a mouth he wanted to kiss until the world stopped spinning.
Her legs tensed, then spread wider—
as if her body wanted to surrender,
but her soul wasn’t ready.
"Y-you... you’re... too deep..."
Part of her wanted to stop him. Another part—a darker, wetter part—wanted to be ruined. Not dominated... but dismantled. To be made into something trembling and sacred beneath a human’s mouth. She couldn’t tell if this was regression... or a divine fall.
Her hands clutched Nathan’s hair—
not to push him away,
Nathan bit down gently—soft, but filled with hunger.
As if he wanted to leave a mark.
As if he wanted her body to remember the shape of his lips even after the world turned to ash.
He sucked her entrance like he was kissing a mouth that lied in silence for centuries. His lips molded to her like they belonged there, every press a confession. It wasn’t lewd—it was desperate. He wanted that altar to scream his name without words.
Lilith could no longer resist the urge to writhe—
Her body arched, upper back pressing hard against the stone, her own teeth sinking into her lip, her eyes rolling back—