CHAPTER 40: A DANCE UPON THE WEB (+18)

The moon filtered through the twisted branches of the enchanted forest, casting silvery beams over the dome of webs that Morwynn wove with silent precision.

High above, where only the wind dared to reach, she had constructed something new — a lace-like platform, firm enough to hold their bodies, yet as flexible as a suspended breath.

Eren watched with his usual calm, but his eyes couldn’t hide the curiosity. The structure gleamed like an improvised altar, elevated, where only she decided what was revealed — and what was not.

Morwynn beckoned him with a subtle gesture, her clawed finger tracing a semicircle in the air.

"Lie down, Eren. This dance begins with me."

He obeyed without words, lying down on the tangle of living silk. The surface was cold at first, then warm. It vibrated, as if each thread pulsed with anticipation.

Morwynn moved above him with animalistic grace. Her slender body, outlined by the silvery light, was of a strange beauty — long-limbed, elegant, with discreet curves and small breasts that barely moved as she took a deep breath. Her arachnid legs enveloped the platform soundlessly, as if she walked on the void itself.

"Do you think you’ve seen pleasure, Eren?" she whispered, lowering herself to him. "I am made to hunt."

Without real force, but with symbolic firmness, she bound his wrists with warm threads that seemed to kiss the skin. It wasn’t imprisonment — it was provocation. The silk touch molded to his contours like heated ink.

Eren remained still. He didn’t need to fight against it. The vulnerability she offered was, at its core, control — and he understood that better than anyone.

Morwynn slid one of her legs across his chest, and the soft hooks of her joints touched his skin with the gentleness of feathers, tracing invisible lines. A slight shiver ran through Eren’s torso, more unsettling for its precision than for the contact.

Then she "stitched."

Using the finest threads, almost invisible, she began to weave around him a subtle web of caresses. The threads wrapped around his shoulders, flanks, and abdomen, leaving spots of warmth interspersed with shocks of cold. She alternated temperatures as if painting an impressionist work of sensations.

"You’re made of stone on the outside... but you’re softening, aren’t you?"

She brushed her lips against the side of his neck. It wasn’t a kiss. It was more like a warning.

Eren kept his eyes fixed on her.

Morwynn smiled — a slanted, sharp smile.

"The greatest trap... is the one the prey doesn’t want to leave." She raised her hips over him and began to move, but slowly. Very slowly.

The touch was more mental than physical. Eren didn’t feel dominated, but analyzed, deciphered. Each of her movements seemed calculated to take him to the limit — and stop him a second before.

Her legs intertwined with his, sliding with fluid movements. The claws never cut, only scratched softly, as if provoking the desire for something that would never fully arrive.

He let out a low moan — not of pleasure, but of frustration. It was like looking at a moving painting without being able to touch it.

"Finding it hard to maintain control?" Morwynn arched her body, long hair hanging like a black curtain. "You thirst, Eren. But not for me. For balance."

Her eyes burned with an ethereal glow. It wasn’t common lust — it was a ritualistic surrender, a sacred enactment of something much older.

She moved her hips in slow, provocative circles, and her threads vibrated in response. The entire web seemed to pulse in harmony, as if the very branches of the forest watched in silence.

"I’ll let you go... when you admit you’re not the only one with control here."

She lowered and kissed his chest — a cold kiss, like ice melting on warm skin.

And then, in a calculated gesture, she stopped completely.

Stillness fell like a blade.

Morwynn’s eyes were half-open. Her mouth slightly parted. Her body over his, warm, pressed against him, and yet... nothing. Not a millimeter of movement.

Eren held his breath.

"Look at me when you lose control." She spoke softly. "I want to see. I want to see myself... in you."

The following seconds stretched into a tense eternity. Only then, like an artist deciding to give the final brushstroke on a painting, did she move again — fast, precise, and intense.

Control slipped away like water through fingers.

And when he finally moaned — not from pain, but from surrender — the threads glimmered around as if the very system had blinked.

Morwynn watched him with wide eyes, breathless, yet serene. Like a hunter who saw her prey recognize the beauty of the trap.

Eren closed his eyes for an instant. Not to rest, but to absorb everything.

The ritual was not yet over.

The structure swayed slightly, rocking like a boat suspended among the branches, but it was solid enough to sustain both of them. Morwynn’s web, vast and intricate, trembled under the touches of the night wind — and under the movements of the hunter and the hunted.

But now, the roles had reversed.

Eren tore the last threads that still marked Morwynn’s authority, snapping them between his fingers with calculated firmness. Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in sudden hunger — as if she faced something that had never been anticipated. He wasn’t just escaping: he offered himself with absolute control.

"My turn," he said, in a low voice.

She didn’t respond. The forked tongue slid over her thin lips. Her slender body, a hybrid between woman and arachnid, arched in expectation. The long, thin legs trembled almost imperceptibly, caught in the threads to maintain balance.

Eren approached and touched her with firmness and care. His hands passed along the thin thighs, the arachnid joints, the creases where flesh became chitin, where warmth hid beneath strange texture. She was a living book of bodily mysteries.

He pressed the question against a soft, internal region between two smooth plates.

Morwynn let out a sound that was not a moan, but something more subtle—a damp tremor between her teeth, as if she were melting and holding herself together at the same time.

Eren explored without haste. His fingers traced paths that defied human logic: openings, folds, membranes that retracted at his touch. Her body reacted, invisible fibers contracted, the web around them vibrated in microtonalities, as if the very environment sensed the rhythm of their approach.

The kisses came later—interspersed with silence. Morwynn’s mouth was cold on the outside, but warm within, her tongue swirling around his with unsettling precision. There was no uncontrolled lust—it was art. A studied choreography, where each movement suggested that she still wanted to understand what was happening to her own body.

Eren noted her legs tightening around the strands of the web. She trembled. The gentle thrusts of his advances were not quick—they were deep, rhythmic, as if he were touching her soul and not just her flesh.

"Don’t hold back," he murmured.

"I’m... I’m not holding back. It’s just... you’re symmetrical. Everything about you seems meticulously... exact."

Her eyes shone with something beyond lust. Admiration. Silent reverence. The creature that collected emotions was now the prey of a sensation she couldn’t catalogue.

The nocturnal sounds seemed distant. As if the forest respected that ritual. There were only the two of them—the tension of bodies, the strands stretching, the shared warmth, and the moment unfolding like a living painting. The platform swayed with their movements—almost imperceptible, almost sacred.

Then came the peak. Not a loud carnal climax, but an energetic rupture. The system reacted with a pulse:

[Affinity between Morwynn and Eren increased]

[100% - Bond]

[Shared Skill: Threads of Harmony]

The web glowed a violet hue. A magical crackle traveled along the strands, creating small flashes that danced among the branches like brief fireflies.

Morwynn collapsed onto him, her hair like fine silk sticking to Eren’s skin. She whispered nonsensical words, as if intoxicated by the art of being touched the right way.

"Is this how you survive?" she said, almost laughing. "It’s not just strength. It’s rhythm. It’s control. You... you’re a choreographer of chaos."

Eren didn’t reply. He breathed deeply, muscles still tense from their earlier exchanges. He lay on the strands, his back slightly marked by the silvery fibers. His skin contrasted with the surroundings—human warmth amid cold geometry.

"Let’s dance... our way," she whispered.

Eren didn’t respond. But he didn’t resist either.

She pulled him into the center of the newly formed web, with a gentle and hypnotic touch. Every step, every movement, seemed rehearsed on another plane of existence. As if their bodies held memories their minds had yet to grasp.

Morwynn didn’t rush forward. She glided with rhythm.

Her touches now didn’t demand. They merely guided.

Arms intertwined slowly. Strands floated in the air, following their movement like veils in a ceremonial dance. Morwynn’s spider-like legs created an arch around their bodies, suspended between branches and mist, while the bluish light illuminated only the contours—never the whole.

Eren’s skin met hers with contained reverence. It was warmth on silk. Friction in mist.

She bent with the flexibility of a figure in ecstasy. The elongated, slender torso, the half-human, half-arachnid features molded with each gesture, each touch. Morwynn molded to him, like clay under divine hands.

The strands vibrated beneath their bodies like the strings of an overly tuned instrument. The sound was subtle. The rhythm, constant. The air, dense. Morwynn’s eyes never wavered—dilated pupils, parted lips, an expression intoxicated by something deeper than pleasure.

It was veneration.

Eren realized this when she trembled, not from touch, but from movement. As if each gesture awakened an ancient memory within her, an echo of something she’d always sought without knowing its name.

"This... this is what I’ve sought in every prey," she whispered, in a lyrical sob. "You’re creating with me... this is art, Eren."

Eren didn’t respond. He merely looked at her.

And then he saw.

That’s what I thought. Every monster has its peculiarity when it comes to affinity ritual. Nyssa is submissive and easy to please. Kaela is dominant. But Morwynn is different. She likes to pretend she dominates, yet prefers to be dominated. Her taste is more artistic, like a dance.

She was like an artist trapped in a body others saw only as a weapon. Eren now understood why she had chosen him. Why she had pulled him up.

She wanted to be understood.

And, in that moment, she was.

The system appeared. Discreet. As if even it feared interrupting:

[Bond Surpassed: 110%]

[Class Skill Unlocked: "Emotional Symmetry"]

[While in contact with a partner who has surpassed 100% affinity, both share feelings, instincts, and peripheral vision.]

Eren felt the warmth emanating from her eyes. Felt the rhythm of her heartbeat.

Morwynn glided once more, now without haste. Without destination. Just dancing.

The orgasm was not an explosion. Nor a conquest. It was a response.

A long, muffled sigh, like the end of a symphony. As if the world paused to applaud in silence. The web vibrated one last time—gentle, respectful—before calming.

The morning light didn’t invade. It hovered.

Diffuse. Almost timid. As if it knew it wasn’t its time to appear.

Morwynn lay atop Eren, the strands still holding them delicately. She bent down, pressing her face to his neck, inhaling as if trying to capture the moment within her own body.

A smile.

Genuine. Small.

But eternal.

She whispered, as if speaking to the void:

"You are... the piece I never knew I wanted to compose."

Eren didn’t respond. Saying anything might ruin the moment.

He just closed his eyes for a moment. Like someone signing a contract in silence.