A/N: I don't know if any of you is fond of Ava but she's here!

Ava burst through the door like a storm of leather and gun oil, eyes locking on me instantly—hungry, feral, months of pent-up cock-hunger flashing across her face.

She was dressed for war: black tactical pants hugging her thick thighs, boots that could crush skulls, tight jacket straining over her heavy tits, hair pulled back in a severe ponytail that begged to be yanked. Her team—four stone-faced operatives—flanked her, gear rattling.

"Eros—" she started, voice cracking with relief and raw need, but I cut her off with a grin, already shifting.

I was already Eros—hair dark, eyes sharp to predatory gold. The hospital gown was gone, replaced by black fatigues I'd materialized from the shop—tight, armored, crotch bulging.

"Room's yours," I told the team she came with, jerking my thumb at the bed. "Maintain the illusion. I am dying in there. No one in, no one out."

They nodded, filing in like ghosts, setting up perimeter cams and fake vitals on the monitors. ARIA synced with their comms, looping moans of pain through the speakers for authenticity.

Ava didn't wait. She marched straight to the hospital director's office, badge flashing, voice dropping to that icy CIA steel. "Matter of national security. Patient transfer. Records sealed. Now."

The director in charge—some balding suit with a clipboard—paled, stammered, signed whatever bullshit forms she shoved at him. Minutes. That's all it took. National security was the ultimate safe word—shut mouths, open doors.

We exited through a service door, down forgotten stairs, into the underground garage—dim, echoing, scented with oil and rubber. The Hunters were waiting—two midnight beasts, humming with hidden power, ready to unleash.

Ava stopped abruptly at the sight of me—full Eros, cock straining against my pants, grin wicked.

Her breath hitched, eyes dropping to my bulge, lips parting wet. Months. Months of texts, calls, craving my cock she never got while she chased ghosts across borders. Waiting. Aching. Fingers plunging into her dripping cunt at night when we sex-texted, whispering my name, toys a pale joke next to the real monster she needed.

"Eros—" she whispered, voice thick with lust, but I didn't let her finish.

She turned on me like a dam breaking—fierce, primal, body slamming into mine with pent-up force. Her hands fisted my jacket, yanking me down as her mouth crashed into mine like a fucking collision—lips bruising, teeth clashing in a savage bite, tongue thrusting deep into my mouth like she was fucking my face.

She tasted like desperation and coffee, salt from sweat, moaning loud into me, the sound vibrating straight to my balls.

"Fuck—missed you—missed this," she gasped between kisses, sucking my lower lip hard, biting down until blood bloomed, tongue lapping it up like cream.

Her body pressed flush, heavy tits crushing against my chest, nipples diamond-hard poking through fabric, hips grinding frantic against my throbbing cock, feeling every vein, every inch straining for her soaked hole.

I growled, hands roaming—one tangling in her ponytail, yanking her head back to expose her throat, teeth sinking into the pulse point, sucking a bruise that would mark her as mine. The other hand grabbed her ass, fingers digging into firm flesh, pulling her tighter, grinding my cock against her cunt until she whimpered, juices flooding her panties, scent of her aroused pussy filling the air.

She fought back, nails raking my neck, tongue dueling mine in a wet, sloppy war—saliva mixing, dripping down our chins, breaths ragged.

"Months—fucking months without this mouth, your godly complex," she panted, one hand snaking down to cup my balls through my pants, squeezing hard enough to make me hiss, thumb tracing the outline of my shaft.

"I dreamed of choking on you, cumming on your tongue—please—"

I devoured her again, tongue fucking her mouth in brutal thrusts, mimicking what my cock would do to her cunt soon. She melted, knees buckling, moaning like a whore in heat, body trembling as I pinned her against the cold metal of one Hunter, the vibration of its idle hum buzzing through her back.

"Fuck, Peter—Eros," she growled against my mouth, hips grinding forward, feeling my hard cock throb against her belly. Her hands roamed—one yanking my hair, the other squeezing my ass, nails digging like she owned me. But I owned her.

I grabbed her throat, squeezing just enough to make her eyes flutter, kissing deeper, biting her lower lip until she whimpered, blood-tang mixing with lipstick. My free hand slid under her jacket, cupping a heavy tit—full, swaying, nipple thick and erect, pinching and twisting until she arched, gasping into my mouth.

"Missed me this much, agent?" I rasped, grinding my bulge against her cunt, feeling her heat, her wetness seeping through layers. She was drowning—panty-soaking slut, thighs slick.

"God, yes—fuck me right here—now," she begged, voice breaking, fingers fumbling at my zipper, freeing my thick shaft—veins pulsing like ropes, head swollen purple, precum oozing in thick strings.

She stroked me rough, hand slick with my leak, thumb circling the slit, smearing it down the length, eyes glazed as she pumped me hard, milking more out.

But not yet. Hunting first. Fucking after.

I spun her around, pressing her front to a nearby car, ass out, grinding my bare cock between her cheeks as I nipped her neck, one hand snaking around to rub her clit through her pants. "Ride with me. Hunt with me. Then I'll flood that needy cunt until you scream."

She moaned, pushing back, wetness soaking her pants, ass clenching around my shaft. "Yes, Eros—and you better hurry."

Ava's lips were still swollen from our brutal kiss, her breath ragged, cunt-scent lingering in the air like a promise of the filthy fuck to come.

She pulled back just enough to stare at the two Hunters waiting in the shadows—midnight beasts humming with leashed fury, their forms materializing under the flickering garage lights like predators stepping from a nightmare.

I stepped away, grinning as I stripped the fatigues, system shop flaring in my mind.

Dark matter coalesced around me—cyberpunk armor slithering over my skin like liquid shadow: sleek black jacket with angular plates hugging my broad shoulders, reinforced seams glowing faint circuits, pants molded to my thighs like a second skin, crotch panel bulging around my still-hard cock, heavy boots thudding with hidden servos, gloves textured for grip on throats or handlebars.

Futuristic biker king—leather fused with nano-weave, every inch screaming domination.

Ava's eyes widened, raking over the beasts as I changed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. "What... the fuck are those?"

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