Powerless Boy is reborn as Lustful Elf
Chapter 32: Talking with Urell

Chapter 32: Talking with Urell

Alex changed his patterns, keeping her on edge.

Sometimes he went fast and hard, his hips snapping against hers with a force that made her tremble.

Other times, he slowed down, drawing out each thrust with a deliberate, teasing rhythm that left her aching for more.

His hand slid up her back, wrapping around her damp hair.

He pulled it back slightly, the gentle tug sending a shiver down her spine as he continued drilling into her, his rod filling her completely.

Then his hands shifted, moving to her boobs.

He fondled them, his fingers squeezing and kneading as he used them for leverage, pounding into her with renewed vigor.

The added sensation pushed Syrla toward another peak.

Another orgasm hit her, this time so intense that she was too exhausted to even shout.

Her body went limp, the pleasure unbearable as it washed over her in relentless waves.

She sagged against the wall, her breaths shallow and ragged.

Alex had to hold her up, his arms wrapping around her torso to keep her upright.

He continued slamming his rod in and out of her core, his movements steady despite her collapse.

The water streamed over them, washing away the sweat and heat, but not the tension building in his own body.

He could feel it now, the tightening, the rush signaling his own release.

Finally, his orgasm came.

With one final grunt, he buried himself deep into her core, pressing as far as he could go.

His rod pulsed as he sprayed his seed inside her, the warmth flooding her womb.

His breath came in harsh pants, his chest heaving as he rode out the climax, his hands still gripping her tightly.

Then, as the last tremors faded, he pulled out slowly, his rod slipping free with a soft, wet sound.

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to her neck, his lips lingering against her damp skin.

The system chimed, a sound he was starting to get used to.

[1 lustful session, +20xp]

Lyriel stepped through the arched doorway of their home a few hours later, the faint rustle of her cloak brushing against the frame as she entered.

Beside her walked Urell, Sylra’s younger brother, his ash blonde hair catching the soft glow of the lanterns that lined the walls.

The journey back had dusted their boots with the fine, golden silt of the elven roads, and the air around them carried the crisp scent of twilight, pine and distant blossoms mingling in the evening breeze.

Sylra had woken by then, her slender form curled into one of the plush, moss-green couches that dominated the space.

A book rested in her hands, its leather cover worn smooth by time, its pages whispering faintly as she turned them.

Across from her, Alex sprawled on another couch, his limbs loose and heavy, his chest rising and falling in the shallow rhythm of a doze.

The cushions beneath him bore the faint imprint of his weight, and a stray lock of dark hair had fallen across his forehead, trembling with each breath.

The soft creak of the door stirred him.

Sleep clung to his eyes like a thin veil, but it parted as he blinked, the haze clearing just enough for him to register Lyriel’s return.

He pushed himself upright, the couch groaning faintly beneath him, and rubbed a hand across his face as if to sweep the drowsiness away.

Sylra, meanwhile, snapped her book shut with a decisive thud and sprang to her feet, her movements as fluid as water over stone.

She crossed the room in an instant, her arms wrapping around Lyriel in a tight, eager embrace that spoke of relief and affection in equal measure.

"Mother!" Sylra’s voice was bright, tinged with the melodic lilt that all elves seemed to carry, even in their simplest words.

Lyriel returned the hug, her hands brushing lightly over Sylra’s shoulders before she stepped back, her gaze sweeping the room to include Alex. "It’s good to see you both," she said, her tone warm but carrying the faintest edge of fatigue.

Her eyes, sharp and golden like those of a hawk, lingered on Alex for a moment, noting the way he straightened under her scrutiny. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. Be prepared."

With that, she turned and ascended the wide, spiraling staircase that led to the upper levels of the house.

Her robes, a deep emerald green, flowed behind her like a river current, and the faint sound of her steps faded into the stillness she left behind.

Alex’s attention shifted as Urell stepped forward, his presence quieter but no less striking.

The boy, though he was hardly a boy by human standards, stood tall and lean, his frame wrapped in a tunic of pale blue that shimmered subtly in the lanternlight.

His ears, like Sylra’s, bore only the slightest upward curve, a delicate nod to the elven heritage Alex had once imagined so differently.

Urell’s eyes, a piercing shade of silver, fixed on Alex with an intensity that made him feel abruptly exposed.

"Your eyes are red," Urell said, his voice low and even, cutting through the quiet like the chime of a distant bell.

Alex blinked, caught off guard by the observation. "Yes," he replied simply, his own voice rougher, still thick with the remnants of sleep.

Urell tilted his head, a faint crease forming between his brows. "Why?"

"I don’t know myself," Alex admitted, lifting a hand to rub at one eye as if the answer might be found there.

The redness had come on suddenly that morning, a faint irritation he’d dismissed until now.

He dropped his hand and met Urell’s gaze, offering a half-shrug. "It just... happened."

"Strange," Urell said, the word hanging in the air between them like a judgment.

His tone was flat, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his expression, a spark that suggested he was weighing Alex’s response against some unspoken measure.

Alex nodded, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I suppose it is."