More. Berserker. The inscription formed on her shoulders, wrapping around her arms in spiraling patterns. The lines were thick. Aggressive. The runes radiated heat — a faint red glow beneath the amethyst, as if the magic itself was angry.
More. Hellfire domain. The inscription formed on her lower back. The symbol was complex — a circle within a circle, with radiating lines that spread toward her hips. The skin beneath it grew warm. Then hot. Then it cooled, settling into a steady, ambient warmth that pulsed with her heartbeat.
More. Domain smash. The inscription formed on her thighs. Thick bands of runic text wrapping around the muscle, spiraling downward toward her knees. The lines tightened as they formed, as if the magic was compressing her flesh.
He fucked her while he worked. The rhythm was steady — not the brutal pace of before, but a measured, deliberate thrusting that matched the pace of his inscriptions. Each thrust accompanied a new line. Each line accompanied a thrust.
