CHAPTER 464: GREED GAVE WITHOUT TAKING (18+)

Chapter 464 – Greed Gave Without Taking (18+)

"I’m here."

"Then shut up and—"

He entered her in one smooth, deliberate thrust.

And she broke.

Not from the size—though he filled her in a way that made her back arch and her eyes roll—but from the way he groaned her name like it was the only spell he knew.

He stilled. Buried deep. Letting her adjust.

And when she tightened around him, her tentacles wrapping him like a net pulling him under—he moved.

Hard. Controlled. Precise.

Lux didn’t just thrust. He claimed.

Every stroke was angled, every grind deep. Her body, her rhythm, her core—he matched it perfectly. Like he was syncing with her magic, her instinct, her everything.

She moaned.

Loud. Unrestrained.

His hand found hers again. Their fingers locked. And when his other hand slid beneath her lower back, lifting her hips to meet his every drive—Rava realized she wasn’t in control anymore.

And she didn’t want to be.

Because Lux wasn’t taking.

He was giving.

Giving her release.

Giving her warmth.

Giving her the kind of closeness she never asked for but always needed.

Their bodies moved like waves. Like contracts of motion and heat and wordless confession.

"I need you," he said, voice raw, teeth grazing her neck. "Here. In this way. No business. No ledger. Just this."

She nodded, unable to speak.

Her legs tightened. Her tentacles pulsed.

And when she came—loud and slick and shaking—he caught her.

Held her.

Stilled inside her.

Breathing hard.

Then he whispered, "You make me feel real."

And Rava?

Rava kissed his temple.

And held him tighter.

Because for once...

Greed gave without taking.

And Lust wanted only one thing.

Her.

Rava blinked through the fog of heat clouding her mind, her skin flushed and hypersensitive, her tentacles still wrapped tightly around him like instinct had taken over before reason could argue.

Lux didn’t pull away.

In fact—he held her closer.

Buried deep between her thighs, his hands splayed firm across her waist, thumbs brushing that dip just above her hips as if memorizing it. There was weight in his touch now—not the kind that demanded, but the kind that anchored. The kind that said stay.

She felt every inch of him—hard and hot and so, so present. The kind of presence you couldn’t fake. The kind that stole the breath from her lungs every time his hips rolled deeper, slower, grinding in a way that didn’t just seek friction, but connection.

It wasn’t performance. It wasn’t strategy.

It was desperation.

A slow, climbing, cracking kind of desperation that bled through his groans, each one drawn out low against the shell of her ear like he couldn’t hold them back anymore.

He didn’t speak.

Not at first.

But the way his lips moved across her skin—kissing down her jaw, grazing her collarbone, dragging open-mouthed across the curve of her breast—said everything.

"Lux," she whispered, breath catching.

That one word—his name—made him shudder. His grip tightened, just enough for her to feel the restraint cracking.

He responded the only way he knew how.

By thrusting deeper.

By pushing into her with an edge of urgency that hadn’t been there a moment ago—like her voice unlocked something in him. Like hearing her call him by name made him forget the line between want and need.

She gasped. Her back arched.

And her tentacles tightened again—around his waist, around his thighs, one sliding gently along his spine in soothing waves, trying to ground him even as he buried himself harder with every motion.

He kissed her throat. Her shoulder. Lower again, until his mouth returned to her breast, sucking and biting softly, then more fervently—like he was trying to claim every inch of her skin with tongue and teeth and breath.

And Rava?

Rava felt everything.

Every movement, every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his fingers kneading at her hips as if trying to mold her into memory.

He wasn’t just having sex.

He was searching.

For something deeper. For something real.

Like he was trying to understand.

What does closeness feel like without owing or earning?

What does it mean to touch someone without turning it into a signature or a soul-bonded clause?

And it hurt how beautiful it was.

He trembled slightly when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Not out of weakness, but from the way she kissed his cheek. The way she whispered his name again—not because he demanded it, but because she wanted to say it.

"Lux..."

He groaned louder this time, voice rough and open, thrusts losing their rhythm for a second. Then he growled something against her neck, barely coherent, but it felt like "mine."

Not a command.

Not a threat.

Just truth.

And she got it. She did.

Because this—this was the part of him no one got to see.

The part of Lux that didn’t just want someone. The part that needed them to stay.

The part that wasn’t Greed or Lust or infernal power.

Just... him.

Raw. Warm. Human in the ways that mattered.

His hands slipped under her knees, lifting them, shifting the angle. His body pressed more fully into hers, weight grounding her, hips rolling in slower, deeper thrusts now—like he wasn’t just trying to feel her, but leave something behind. Something permanent.

Her tentacles reacted, stroking and wrapping more tenderly now—no longer wild with hunger but curious. Protective. One even curled around his wrist, holding his hand as he interlaced their fingers again, palm to palm.

Their sweat mingled. Their breath synced.

And her thoughts?

Chaotic.

She realized this wasn’t just how Lux touched her.

This was how he touched every woman he truly let in.

Naomi. Sira. Mira. Maybe even Lullaby—each in their own way.

And that made sense.

Because Lux wasn’t the type to sleep around.

Not because he couldn’t—he could charm gods if he wanted—but because when he touched someone, he meant it.

And Rava felt it now. That ache. That fullness. That weight behind his every movement that whispered not "I want you, but I won’t let you go."