Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 226: Primal fury mixed with lust

Deeper angle now, cock curving to grind her G-spot on every withdrawal. Her moans grew louder, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as he continued to pound into her. With each thrust, she felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, unable to resist the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body. The space was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding, a symphony of desire and need that seemed to consume them both.

"Oh gods! Yes—fuck me raw!" She howled, bucking back to meet him, her ass rippling with each collision.

The trunk shook faintly; mist from the falls sprayed their rutting forms.

He fisted her long hair, yanking like reins, arching her back further.

One hand snaked under to maul a swinging tit, pinching the nipple; the other rubbed her clit in furious circles. Her second climax built fast, walls fluttering, then clamping like a vice.

"Cumming again! Milk your cock, son!" She squirted backward, spraying his thighs, but he spanked harder, pounding through it.

Hours blurred in the misty chamber, time marked only by orgasms and position shifts.

He dragged her to her feet against the trunk wall, standing fuck: her back to the warm heartwood, one massive leg hooked over his shoulder (his strength and her flexibility making it work despite heights).

Thrusts upward now, skewering her depths, gravity aiding each plunge.

She clawed bark gouges, screaming, "Deeper—womb-fuck me!"

Tits mashed against his chest, nipples dragging his skin.

Then reverse cowgirl on the precipice edge, her thick ass planted on his lap, facing the falls, grinding down as he thrust up from below. Cushions forgotten, raw wood bit her knees, but she rode like possessed, pussy creaming rivers down his shaft, waterfalls mirroring her squirting arcs. His hands roamed—kneading ass, slapping cheeks, twisting nipples—while she leaned back, kissing him sloppily over her shoulder.

Spooning next, side-lying on cushions: intimate yet brutal, his cock sliding in from behind, one arm under her neck to grope tits, the other between thighs frigging clit. Slow grinds built to frenzy, her moans muffled against his bicep.

Full nelson after—her back to his chest, thick thighs pried obscenely wide by his locked arms under knees, cock spearing vertically.

Hours in, bodies drenched, muscles screaming, Jorghan’s berserker essence ignited. Golden mana erupted from his veins, crackling like lightning in mist.

"Watch this, Mother," he rasped.

The air hummed; an invisible force lifted them, first inches off cushions, her weightless gasp turning to a moan as he bounced her lightly.

Then higher, feet, yards, floating out the trunk’s open maw, hovering over the abyss, falls roaring approval. Suspended mid-air, magic defied gravity: he impaled her with supernatural vigor, drops becoming free-fall plunges onto his cock, stomach-lurching ecstasy.

Sigora’s eyes bulged in awe-terror-bliss.

"Jorghan! Flying... fucking in the sky!"

Her tits flopped madly upward with each ascent, slapping her chin; her belly undulated like waves; her pussy stretched translucent around him, lips gripping his veined shaft.

Mana amplified, golden tendrils sprouted: coiling nipples like sucking mouths, vibrating mercilessly; a thicker one buzzing clit at sonic speeds; a probing tendril teased her asshole, then penetrated shallowly, double-filling her. Thrusts accelerated impossibly—hundreds per minute, cock blurring, balls slapping cheeks with thunderous pops. Every sense overloaded: wind whipping skin, mist chilling sweat, and the falls’ roar harmonizing screams.

"It’s too much! Breaking apart!" she wailed, the first mid-air orgasm exploding—pussy convulsing, squirting arcs plummeting like comets into the void.

But no end; mana chained climaxes, each more shattering, body seizing in perpetual rapture. "Seed me! Nowww!"

Jorghan roared, mana cresting.

"Take it—our heir!"

Cock swelled girthier, erupting cataclysmically: endless thick ropes blasting her womb, essence-magic sealing it deep, guaranteeing conception.

She milked him dry, the final squirt drenching them both.

Mana ebbed; they descended feather-light to cushions, collapsing entwined.

Sigora panted, hand cradling a belly already warming with life.

*

The days following their union in the hollowed trunk were a blur of clan duties, strategy sessions, and the subtle, unspoken knowledge that hummed between them.

Sigora moved with a new awareness, her hand often drifting to rest on her lower belly, her golden eyes holding a secret warmth when they met Jorghan’s across a crowded glade. The seed was planted; they both felt it, a potent certainty woven into their shared essence.

He found her again at dusk, not in the trunk, but at the island’s very heart—the Essence Wellspring.

It was a natural basin where crystalline waters, glowing with soft blue light, bubbled up from the island’s core before streaming toward the edges to become the great falls.

Sigora stood knee-deep in the luminescent pool, washing the day’s dust from her towering form, her brown skin painted in shifting azure patterns by the water’s glow.

She was naked, her dangerous curves magnificent in the ethereal light, heavy breasts floating slightly, and dark nipples pebbled from the cool water.

"You should be careful while seeking me out," she said without turning, sensing his approach as always. Her voice was a low melody over the gentle burble.

"In a few weeks, we won’t be able to hide it."

She knew what he was saying.

Jorghan stood at the pool’s edge, clad only in loose trousers.

He didn’t speak, just watched her, feeling the pressure build in his bones, in his marrow. It wasn’t pain, but a profound tightening, a need for expansion.

The air around him began to warp with heat haze.

"Let it come," Sigora whispered, turning to face him, water sluicing down her colossal body. Her eyes were wide, not with fear, but with awe and a deep, primal hunger.

"Show me what our union has forged.

Show me the true Sol’vur king."

A groan tore from Jorghan’s throat.

[Primal Form initiated]

He threw his head back, muscles cording like steel cables beneath his skin.

The first sign was color.

A flush, deep as a sunset, began at his chest and spread outward like spilled wine. His tanned skin darkened, then transformed, taking on a rich, vibrant crimson hue—the color of fresh blood, of embers, of life at its most ferocious. It wasn’t a stain, but his true elven heritage, unleashed and magnified by his human fire.

His frame followed.

A series of audible pops and cracks echoed as his bones lengthened, his musculature expanding. He grew taller and wider, his 6-foot stature swelling to nearly match her 8’3" height, his shoulders broadening, and his chest thickening into a barrel of corded scarlet power. His ears elongated further, becoming more sharply pointed, slicing through the air. His hair, previously dark, blazed like molten copper, flowing down his back in a wild mane.

But the most dramatic change was in his eyes: the red irises vanished, consumed by pools of solid, glowing amber, like twin suns trapped in his skull, radiating predatory intelligence and boundless lust.

The final touch was a pattern of darker, almost black tribal markings that swirled over his crimson skin—whorls and jagged lines that pulsed with a faint inner light, tracing the paths of his enhanced essence channels.

He stood before her, no longer a half-blood hybrid, but a Sol’vur Elf in full majesty, a being of myth, of raw, untamed power, every inch a conqueror and a king.

Steam rose from his body where the wellspring’s mist touched him. His cock had transformed too—now a monstrous shaft with pulsing thickness, burgundy meat, veined with glowing gold, the flared head broad and demanding, already leaking thick precum that sizzled faintly in the water.

Sigora’s breath hitched.

She took a step forward, water rippling.

"Gods below... Jorghan. You’re... magnificent."

Her gaze drank him in, lingering on the heavy, throbbing cock that curved upward against his crimson abs, a weapon built for utter domination and breeding.

"This," he said, and his voice was different—deeper, layered, resonating with a vibration that made the water around her shiver.

"This is what our child will inherit. This is the blood I put in you."

He stepped into the pool, the glowing water hissing and steaming where it met his superheated scarlet skin.

"And now, Mother... I will fuck you as what I am. I will put my seed in you again—deeper, stronger. Seal our heir with the Sol’vur King’s essence."

He closed the distance in one stride, his massive crimson hands seizing her waist.

Ahh!

She gasped, feeling his touch.

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing, her thick thighs wrapping instinctively around his hips, her slick pussy aligning perfectly with the tip of his monstrous cock.

He didn’t guide it; he simply dropped her onto it.

The sensation was cataclysmic.

AAHHH!!

Sigora’s scream was pure, undiluted ecstasy, torn from her soul.

Jorghan put a barrier around them when he entered the wellspring.

He was so much more—thicker, hotter, longer, the textured golden veins rubbing her inner walls in ways that made her vision whiten. He filled her utterly, the flared head lodging deep against her cervix, which already felt tender, receptive, and changed by his earlier seeding.

He began to move, and the world dissolved into a scarlet haze of sensation. His thrusts were not the frantic pistoning of before; they were deliberate, powerful, ground-moving strokes.