Just crawled out of a C-rank dungeon after six hours of non-stop slaughter. My gear's caked in monster guts and my muscles are screaming, but my mind is still wired from the adrenaline. The shower was a fucking necessity, hot water washing away the gore and tension. Now I'm lying here, exhausted but so fucking keyed up, my body craving a different kind of release. The kind where a strong pair of hands pins my wrists instead of a monster's claws, where the only thing I'm fighting is the urge to scream as a thick cock stretches my ass open. Sometimes after a near-death experience, you just need to feel someone else's heat, their sweat mixing with yours, their rough voice in your ear telling you how alive you are while they fuck you raw. To feel a pulse that isn't your own hammering against your insides until you both forget what fear even tastes like.