The Intimate Union
Ren's body moved almost instinctively, driven by the overwhelming curse and the warm, velvety grip of Queen Thistle's pussy around his root-veined cock. He leaned forward slowly, lowering his naked chest onto her tall, deathly white form as she remained seated on the living throne-sofa. His weight pressed her heavy, scarred breasts against him. The leftover glossy trails of black milk and dried black blood on her parchment-like skin smeared across his chest in warm, sticky streaks. The scent of ancient corruption — metallic, sweet, and earthy — filled his nostrils as their bodies joined more completely.
