The silence in the Void Temple was a heavy, velvet vacuum that swallowed sound and rough breaths alike. But between the two figures standing on the obsidian dais, the air was literally screaming.

Sol stood before the throne, his heart hammering a frantic violent rhythm against his ribs….thump-thump, thump-thump… a mortal drumbeat in a timeless room. He looked down at Isylia.

She stood on the edge of the stone step, her small, perfect feet gripping the black rock as if trying to root herself against a coming storm, her chin tilted up in a gesture of supreme defiance. Her solar eyes… swirling with hot pink and burning orange… glared at him with the intensity of a laser.

Even then, she couldn't help trembling. Obviously not from the non-existent cold of the void, but from a cocktail of indignation, shame, and a terrified, buried tiny bit of anticipation that she couldn't quite squash, as even though she was a primordial goddess, this was gonna be her first time.

She was a Primordial Goddess, a being who had woven nebulae from dust and bartered with the fates of galaxies, and now she was standing before a mud-born human, waiting to be claimed like a common spoil of war.

Her chest heaved beneath the shimmering fabric of the Celestial Peplos, the material fluttering with the rapid tempo of her breathing. Her solar eyes….were wide, fixed on him with a mixture of defiance and entrapment.

she spat, her voice dripping with venom, trying to summon the thunder that usually accompanied her commands but finding only a breathless whisper.Are you going to stand there gawking like a brain-damaged ape? Or are you going to collect your... price?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, the celestial peplos shimmering defensively. "Get it over with, bug. I have eons of sleep to catch up on."

Sol smirked. Her resistance was expected. In fact, it was the best part.

Sol didn't answer immediately. He took a slow step forward, entering her personal space. The air around her wasn't just air; it was a field of static charge. It kinda smelled of a weird mature but fresh scent, mixed with an extremely passionate bodily scent. It was the scent of power contained in a vessel too small to hold it.

"Don't be in such a hurry, Goddess," Sol whispered, his voice rough. "I'm savoring the view. You're the one who taught me about 'Value.' You don't rush a high-value transaction."

He reached out.

Isylia flinched. It was a microscopic movement, a reflexive recoil, but Sol saw it. He didn't stop. He didn't grab her. He didn't rush. He raised his hand slowly, giving her every chance to retreat, to blast him, to run. She didn't move.

He placed his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing her jawline.

Her skin was incredibly soft… softer than the finest silk, softer than water flowing over stone. But it was also hot. A dry, radiant heat emanated from her pores, warming his hand instantly. It felt like touching a living sunbeam that had been solidified into flesh.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, jerking her head away from his hand.

He didn't answer, instead he spoke. "You're burning," his fingers tracing the delicate bone structure of her chin, tilting her face up.

"I am a Goddess," Isylia snapped, though her eyelids fluttered shut at the contact, betraying her. "I always burn. Do not think your touch is special."

Sol smiled, a dark, possessive curve of his lips that he knew she could feel even with her eyes closed. "Then, let's see how hot you can get."

He moved his hand from her jaw to the nape of her neck. His fingers tangled in the thick, pearl white mane of her hair. It felt weightless, like holding a cloud, and tiny sparks of white light danced against his skin, stinging pleasantly. He applied a gentle pressure, her body going rigid as he stepped closer, his chest brushing against hers.

Even though her face was a picture of utter disgust, she didn't resist. She simply swayed forward.

Sol leaned down. Even though he wanted to capture those jucivy red lips, and devour them instantly, he remembered his mantra to enjoy slowly, past experiences helped him somehow control his eager body. So, he didn't kiss her lips yet. He slowly buried his face in the crook of her neck, right where the pulse beat a frantic, heavy rhythm against her skin.

He inhaled deeply.

The scent was overpowering. It wasn't just perfume; it was an atmosphere. It smelled of ancient dust, of blooming night flowers, of things that had no name in the mortal tongue. It was intoxicating, a drug designed to make lesser beings fall to their knees.

Sol groaned, the sound vibrating against her throat.

Isylia made a noise in her throat… a sound of sheer revulsion. "Get off. You are breathing on me. You are polluting my personal atmosphere."

Sol ignored her complaints. He opened his mouth and licked a long, wet stripe up the sensitive column of her neck.

Isylia gasped, her hands coming up to push against his chest. Her palms were small but hot. She shoved him, but without her divine power, it was like a kitten pushing a boulder.

"Stop that!" she cried, her voice cracking. "What are you..."

"Tasting, tasting a goddess." Sol murmured against her skin.

He tasted salt. Even a goddess sweated when she was nervous. But it was sweet salt, like ocean water mixed with nectar. He nipped at her throat, finding the pulse point. He sucked gently, feeling the blood… or ichor, or whatever liquid light ran through her veins… rushing to the surface.

"You feel that?" Sol whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe. "That pounding? You aren't stone, Isylia. You're flesh. You're trembling."

"I am... tolerating you," she lied, her voice breathless and high. "This is... merely a transaction. Harry up and be done."

"Well then I'm merely inspecting my goods, so don't mind me being slow.," Sol chuckled.

He moved his hands down her arms, tracing the smooth, golden skin from her shoulders to her wrists. He felt every goosebump rise under his touch. He gripped her wrists and guided her hands around his waist.

"Hold on," he commanded.

He pulled back to look at her face. She was flushed… a deep, cosmic purple dusting her golden cheeks. Her eyes were open now, the solar flares spinning wildly, the pink and orange swirling into a chaotic nebula of anger and confusion. She looked like she wanted to vaporize him on the spot.

"Kiss me," Sol commanded.

Isylia stared at him, her lip curling. "I would rather lick the underside of a Titan's boot."

"It's part of the deal," Sol reminded her, his voice hardening. "Satisfy me. Or stay here forever."

Isylia grit her teeth so hard Sol heard them click. She glared at him with hate pure enough to burn holes in steel. Then, with the air of a queen stepping onto the scaffold, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes tight, scrunching her face up as if taking bad medicine.

"Fine," she seethed. "Do it."

Sol leaned in. He didn't force it immediately. He let his lips hover over hers, feeling the radiant heat of her breath. Then, he pressed his mouth to hers.

As their lips met, a shockwave of energy blasted through Sol's system. He tasted light. He tasted fire. Her mouth was incredibly hot, her lips soft and yielding.

He wanted to go further and devour her, but her lips were clamped shut, tight and unyielding. She stood stiff as a board in his arms, refusing to participate, refusing to soften. It was like kissing a statue made of hot marble.

Sol didn't mind. He grabbed her waist, pulling her hard against him, and used his tongue to trace the seam of her lips.

"Open," he ordered against her mouth.

"Mmph!" she protested, shaking her head.

Sol's hand reached her perfectly round and perk hips, he savoured them for a moment before pinched them… hard.

"Ah—!"

Her mouth opened in a gasp of indignation. Sol took the opening. He invaded her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside, tasting the strange, electric flavor of her. Her tongue met his with a clumsy, inexperienced edge. For all her age, for all her power, she kissed like a virgin… overwhelmed, repulsive, and utterly lost in the sensation. She tasted like nectar and sweet wine, which honestly was absolutely addicting, and he just wanted to just keep sucking and devour all of her saliva.

It wasn't like kissing Nia or Evara. It wasn't raw, earthy, or messy.

Isylia gasped, opening her mouth to scream a command or perhaps to bite him, but Sol was faster. He seized the opportunity, driving his tongue past her parted lips and invading the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.

Her tongue met his, not in welcome, but in battle. She tried to push him out, her tongue wrestling with his, a muscle of divine perfection fighting against his raw, predatory hunger. But Sol was relentless. He met her resistance with overwhelming force, hooking his tongue around hers, capturing it, and sucking hard.

Isylia let out a muffled, shocked noise against his mouth as he began to sweep her oral cavity.

He explored her with a starving intensity. He ran the tip of his tongue along the ridges of her roof, traced the line of her perfect teeth, and dove deep to taste the back of her throat. He tasted like liquid sunlight and nectar… sweet, burning, and addictive.

A/N: For being so impatient in previous chapters, I'm gonna punish you all (muhahaha) and only post ONE chapter a day.

If you want me to release faster and more chapters daily, you gotta pay up extra. So send some gifts (big ones) or (better yet) send some cold hard cash through Patreon. I will adjust release schedule according to the value of gifts.

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