The moment froze, the air in Dorm C-12 thick with lust and magic, the purple-rose glow pulsing like a heartbeat.
Irie's nude body, slick with sweat, quivered against Aiden, her silver hair a damp, shimmering cascade over her flushed shoulders, catching the candlelight like liquid starlight.
Her full breasts heaved, nipples taut and glistening, brushing his bare chest as she moaned, her thighs parted wide, her dripping pussy visibly throbbing, slick coating her inner thighs in a lewd display of need.
Her violet eyes, glassy with submission, locked onto his, her lips parted, spilling filthy pleas that echoed the mirror's fantasy.
Aiden, nearly nude, his cock exposed and glistening with ritual oil, stood rigid, his erection pulsing painfully in sync with the golden Lust Thread bridging their bodies.
His boots scuffed the floor, his underwear stretched and displaced, leaving him raw and vulnerable, every nerve alight with the ritual's heat.
His Purity Eye burned, gold flooding his vision, amplifying every erotic detail—her creamy, flushed skin, the quiver of her ass as she rocked her hips, the scent of her arousal thick and intoxicating.
The obsidian mirror, its frame humming with predatory intent, stopped reflecting for one silent heartbeat.
Then—reversed.
The energy spiraled outward, a climax sucked backward through time, a raw, primal force that made the room shudder.
Aiden felt it before he saw it—a violent snap in his Purity Eye that buckled his knees, his cock throbbing as if gripped by an unseen hand.
The thread between him and Irie flared white-hot, a searing tether that bound their souls.
Irie's scream—sharp, ragged, utterly naked—punched into his chest like a tidal wave.
Her body arched backward, as if yanked by phantom hands, her silver hair whipping, her breasts bouncing, her pussy clenching visibly as her real orgasm crashed through the sync like thunder.
Slick gushed from her folds, coating her thighs, pooling on the pink silk sheets, her hips bucking wildly, grinding against the air as her climax refused to stop.
It kept going, a relentless wave of lewd ecstasy, her moans rising to a desperate, animalistic wail, her fingers clawing at the sheets, her ass quivering with each spasm.
The Reflection Construct caught it, amplified it, and hurled it straight into Aiden.
He howled, not in pleasure but in overload, his cock spurting precum, his body convulsing as the orgasmic energy seared his nerves.
He fell backward, every nerve ablaze, eyes wide but seeing nothing but gold—spirals within spirals, a maelstrom of lust.
Flashes of every girl he'd seen burned through his mind.
Selene's wicked smirk, her sigil-marked thighs; Irie's glistening, trembling flesh, her pussy dripping; the mirror's mocking smile, its shadow-fingers teasing.
It blurred into an orgasmic overload he couldn't contain, his hips bucking once, twice, then stilling as his vision darkened.
He was drooling, his breath ragged, his cock twitching, leaking onto his thigh, the ritual oil mingling with his sweat.
Selene caught him before his head hit the floor, her arms surprisingly gentle, her coat brushing his bare skin.
"Overdid it," she muttered, brushing damp hair from his brow, her gloved fingers cool against his fevered skin. "Virgin fool tried to swallow an orgasm meant for two."
The mirror dimmed, its obsidian frame falling silent, the hum fading to a low, defeated pulse.
Irie collapsed beside them, her breath hitching, her nude body soaked in sweat and climax-scent, her silver hair splayed across the sheets like a halo.
Her thighs trembled, slick and glistening, her pussy still pulsing faintly, her violet eyes fluttering, half-conscious.
"Did it… work?" she asked weakly, her voice a hoarse whisper, her lips glossy and parted.
Selene glanced at the unconscious boy in her arms, his body twitching faintly, his Purity Eye still pulsing with golden aftershocks.
Her lips curled into a foxlike smile, her violet eyes gleaming with approval.
"Oh yes," she said, her voice low and sultry. "He synced. Perfectly."