"Relax," Sol commanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her chest. A command that bypassed her logic and struck directly at her nervous system. "Open for me. The blockage is deep. I cannot reach it if you fight the friction."

Lyra's breath hitched. Under the influence of his power, her will dissolved like mist. Her legs went slack, parting obediently on the furs.

"That's it," he whispered seductively.

He pressed his hand firmly against the crotch of her trousers. She was wet… soaking wet. The primitive instinct of her body was betraying her, reacting to his dominance and the raw essence he exuded, even if her mind didn't have a word for lust.

The dampness had already seeped through the thick fabric, turning the rough material into a hot, clinging second skin.

"Aunt..." Sol murmured, rubbing his thumb over the wet seam that ran directly over her clitoris. "You are leaking. The stress... it has turned into poison inside you."

Lyra buried her face in the furs, her knuckles white as she gripped the pelt beneath her. "I... I don't know what is happening," she gasped, her voice laced with panic and a strange, dizzying euphoria. "The cloth... it itches, Sol! It rubs so hard! It feels swollen!"

"I know," he soothed, his voice dripping with false empathy. He adjusted his position, pressing his hips down so the hard ridge of his erect cock slotted perfectly between her butt cheeks, grinding against her from behind while his hand worked the front. "That is the stagnation leaving your body. I have to rub it out."

He cupped her fully, his large hand covering her boobs over the fabric. The heat radiating from her was incredible. He began to move his hand in slow, grinding circles, using the heel of his palm to crush the coarse fabric against her sensitive pussy, while his hips synchronized the rhythm, rubbing his cock against her crack.

Lyra let out a high, broken keen… a sound of pure, unadulterated shock. Her hips bucked upward, grinding back against him, trapped between his hand and his cock.

"Sol!" she cried out, her body trembling violently. "Whatever you are doing... it's... it makes my head spin! The roughness... it burns! Stop, I feel like I am going to break!"

"Do not pull away," he ordered, his tone darkening, becoming more authoritative. He increased the speed, his hand becoming a blur of friction against the wet fabric. "This sensation? This is the healing. The fabric acts as a scrub. If you stop now, the pain will return tenfold. You must endure it."

He leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back, his mouth hovering right beside her ear. He could smell her musk rising from the damp clothes…pungent and intoxicating.

"Feel that?" he whispered, timing his thrusts against her buttocks to the frantic rubbing of his hand. "That spark? That heat rising in your belly? It wants to come out. Push it out, Aunt."

Due to the earlier use of Ash Gray energy to amplify her sensitivity to an unbearable degree, every slide of the rough fabric felt like a lightning strike against her clitoris.

Lyra was truly unraveling. She was a warrior, a woman who dug the earth and hunted beasts, but here, pinned beneath her nephew, clothed but feeling more exposed than ever, she was reduced to a whimpering mess. She clawed at the furs, her toes curling inside the floor.

"It's too much!" she sobbed, spreading her legs wider to increase the pressure. "It's gathering! Something is gathering inside!"

"Let it gather," Sol growled, his own breath ragged as he felt her soak the trousers completely under his palm. He kept his rhythm relentless, denying her the release, keeping her right on the edge. "Let it build until you can't hold it. I'm right here. I'm controlling it."

He used his free hand to grab her hip, anchoring her in place so she couldn't escape the dual assault of his hand and his hips.

"You are so dirty with stress, Aunt," he taunted softly, seeing the dark stain spreading on her trousers. "Look at how much you needed this. Look at how wet you are making this cloth."

"I can't hold it back!" Lyra screamed, her voice cracking, abandoning all semblance of composure. The pressure building in her lower belly was no longer a flutter…it was a tidal wave a terrifying, tightening coil that demanded to snap. "Sol! It hurts! It's going to burst!"

"Let it burst!" he roared and slammed his palm flat against her boob, grinding down with ruthless pressure while driving his hips hard against her buttocks. "Push it out, Lyra! Give it to me!"

Lyra's back arched so violently her spine bowed. Her fingers ripped tufts of hair from the pelt.

"OH!"

The scream was primal. Her hips locked, suspending her in a moment of agonizing suspension, and then... she finally shattered.

Her inner muscles convulsed in powerful, rhythmic spasms. A torrent of fluid erupted from her, flooding her trousers, soaking the fabric instantly and drenching Sol's hand through the cloth.

She shook uncontrollably, her vision going white. Waves of electric pleasure, alien and overwhelming, crashed through her body, leaving her gasping, her mouth open in a silent cry. She felt like she was floating, like her soul was being ripped out and stuffed back in, cleansed by fire.

Sol didn't stop immediately. He kept his hand moving over the soaked fabric, milking the aftershocks, forcing her to endure the over-stimulation until she was sobbing, completely broken and soft beneath him.

"That's it," he growled, looking at the dark, drenched patch between her legs. "Look at all that poison leaving you."

Slowly, the spasms subsided into twitching tremors. Lyra collapsed onto the furs, her body limp, her skin flushed a deep, feverish red. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged, wet gasps.

The silence in the hut was heavy, filled with the scent of her release… acrid and musky and undeniably feminine.

Sol withdrew his hand slowly. It was damp with her warmth. He brought it to his face, inhaling deeply, his eyes never leaving her trembling form.

"Aunt?" he asked softly, his voice returning to that deceptive, caring tone.

Lyra couldn't speak. She felt boneless. The ache in her body was truly gone, replaced by a heavy, languid warmth, that made her feel floaty and dazed.

She turned her head slowly, looking at him with wide, glassy eyes.

"I..." she rasped. "I feel... light. Sol, I feel... so light."

She turned her head slowly on the furs, looking up at him with wide, glassy eyes. She looked like a woman who had seen a god.

"I..." she rasped, licking her dry lips. "I feel... light. Sol, I feel... so light."

"I told you," Sol said, wiping his slick hand on her hip, spreading her own fluids over her skin like anointing oil. "The blockage was deep. You needed a release."

He shifted, moving his body so that his hardness pressed firmly against her buttocks. He was dangerously close now, the fabric of his trousers the only thing separating his raging erection from her soaked, steaming backside.

"But we aren't done, Aunt," he whispered, gripping her hair gently to pull her head back. "That was just the surface tension. The root of the problem... lies deeper inside."

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