May 16, 2026

Seven Sins System Chapter 822. A Goddess in My Embrace III

I leaned down, kissing her deeply, a slow, languid exploration. My tentacles, which had been stilled, began to move again.

One coiled gently around her wrist, its tip stroking the delicate skin there. Another traced a path down her spine, its cool, smooth texture.

I began to move, my strokes slow at first, a deep, grinding rhythm that seemed to touch her very soul. I wanted to feel every inch of her, to memorize the way her inner walls clung to me, the way she gasped every time I bottomed out.

"Azrael," she breathed, her voice a husky whisper. "More."

I was more than happy to oblige.

I increased my pace, my movements becoming harder, faster, a primal rhythm that was as old as time itself.

The room was filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, a wet, rhythmic percussion that was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. Her moans were louder now, a beautiful, desperate symphony of pleasure.

My tentacles became more bold as well. The one around her wrist tightened its grip, a possessive brand. The one on her spine slid lower, its tip teasing the cleft of her ass.

"I'm going to fill your ass too... with my tentacle," I grunted, the words a raw, primal promise.

A shiver wracked her body, a response not of fear, but of pure, unadulterated lust.

"W-Wait... I..."

I silenced her with a kiss, my tongue plunging into her mouth, a mimicry of the rhythm of my hips. My tentacle, the one teasing her ass, began to press, a slow, inexorable pressure against her tight, untried entrance. The tip was slick with her own arousal, a natural, perfect lubricant.

"Relax for me," I murmured against her lips. "Let me in. Let me have all of you."

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and I felt her muscles relax, a conscious act of trust that was more intimate, more profound than any words. I took the opening she offered, pushing the tentacle in, just the tip at first, then a little deeper.

"Azrael!" she gasped, her eyes flying wide. The sensation was clearly intense, a fullness, a pressure that was completely new to her.

"Too much?" I asked, my own control hanging by a thread.

"No," she breathed, her hips rocking back, taking more of me in. "It's… it's good. It's so good."

That was all the encouragement I needed.

I began to move my tentacle in and out of her ass, a slow, sensual rhythm that was the perfect counterpoint to the hard, fast strokes of my cock. She was now doubly penetrated.

Her moans were constant now, a beautiful, desperate chorus that filled the room, a hymn to our union. Her hands were no longer gripping my shoulders, but exploring my body, tracing the planes of my back, the muscles of my arms, as if trying to memorize me through touch.

I felt my own climax building, a pressure deep in my groin, a tightening in my balls. I wanted to hold on, wanted to make this last forever, but the heat of her, the tight grip of her body, the sound of her cries, it was all too much.

"I'm close," I grunted, my movements becoming erratic, desperate. "So close, Puriel."

"Me too," she sobbed. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop."

My remaining free tentacles, the ones that had been resting, now came alive.

One snaked up to her breasts, its tip wrapping around one nipple, then the other, a pulsing, living clamp that sent jolts of electricity straight to her core.

The other moved to her clit, its broad, flat tip pressing against the sensitive nub, a firm, rhythmic pressure that was the final straw.

Her back arched, a perfect, taut bow, her body lifting off the bed. A scream, a raw, primal sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy, tore from her throat.

Her inner walls clenched around me, a series of tight, rhythmic spasms that milked me, pulling me deeper into her. The tentacle in her ass was gripped by a similar convulsive force.

The sight of her, the feel of her, the sound of her, it was my undoing. With a roar that was half my name and half a curse, I poured myself into her. A hot, thick, endless torrent of my seed, filling her.

My release was a violent, shuddering thing, a complete and total undoing, a moment of pure, unthinking bliss where nothing existed but the feel of her, the taste of her, the sound of my name on her lips.

For a long moment, we were frozen. Then, slowly, the tremors began to subside.

The room felt different now.

Quieter.

Warmer.

My breathing was still uneven, hers too, both of us caught somewhere between embarrassment, disbelief, and that strange calm that comes after you stop pretending.

I lowered my forehead against hers and let out a quiet laugh.

Small.

Disbelieving.

Then I gave her one last slow kiss.

Not hungry this time.

Not teasing.

Just… soft.

My hand slid down her waist as I slowly pulled back, my body easing away from hers while my tentacles retreated lazily into shadow like overfed predators finally settling down.

“I never thought,” I murmured, voice rough from everything we just did, “that one day I could do something like this to you.”

Puriel stared at me for a second.

Hair messy.

Cheeks pink.

Halo dimmed low enough that she looked less like a goddess and more like a girl who made several questionable decisions after midnight.

“Me too,” she whispered.

Then her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Especially you.”

I put a hand dramatically over my chest.

“Ouch.”

“That wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“It still hurt.”

A tiny smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Cute.

Dangerously cute.

I shifted slightly and winced theatrically.

“Speaking of hurt,” I muttered, glancing downward briefly before looking back at her with the most innocent expression I could fake. “Does it still hurt? I can lick it better to ease the pa—”

“El!”

She buried her face in my shoulder instantly.