Sersi edges Sam until he explodes

The cool night air kissed Sam’s exposed skin as Sersi held him effortlessly aloft, her gloved hand wrapped possessively around the base of his throbbing cock. Paris sparkled far below like scattered diamonds on black velvet, but nothing existed for him except the woman in front of him—his eternal, dangerous, perfect goddess levitating before him.

“Look at me,” she repeated, her voice velvety and seductive. Her golden earrings caught the starlight as she stroked him again, slowly, from root to tip. The supple leather of her glove felt impossibly smooth and warm, humming with latent cosmic energy that made every nerve in his shaft sing.

Sam’s breath hitched. “Sersi… fuck—”

“That’s better.” A wicked little smile curved her lips. She gave him another languid stroke, her thumb circling the sensitive head with deliberate care. “No more polite conversations with pretty blondes in yellow dresses. No more eyes wandering. You belong to me, Samuel. Body. Mind. Soul.”

She punctuated the claim with a focused pulse of magic. A bright blue spark danced along her gloved fingers and jumped into his cock, sending a deep, rolling wave of pleasure surging through him. Sam’s hips jerked involuntarily in the empty air, his hands clutching at her silk-clad waist for any semblance of stability. The energy didn’t just stimulate—it rewired him, flooding his mind with overwhelming images of her: Sersi laughing in ancient temples, Sersi riding him under starlit skies centuries ago, Sersi claiming him now.

“Good boy,” she purred, pleased with his reaction. Still holding him suspended with nothing but her will, she began to work him properly. Her long leather-encased fingers formed a tight, luxurious tunnel around his shaft, stroking with confident, rhythmic twists. Each glide was accompanied by tiny, targeted zaps—some teasing the underside of his cockhead, others vibrating deep in his balls, forcing them to tighten and ache with building pressure.

Sam groaned, the sound raw and ****. The height, the exposure, the sheer power she wielded over him—it all blended into a dizzying cocktail of lust. His pants hung open around his thighs, his erection jutting proudly into the night as she pumped him with elegant precision.

Sersi leaned in closer, her breasts pressing against his chest through her asymmetrical top. Her breath was warm against his ear. “I could keep you like this for hours,” she whispered. “Floating here while I edge you until you’re begging. Until the only word you remember is my name.”

Her strokes grew firmer, faster. The leather creaked softly with each movement, a delicious tactile counterpoint to the slick sounds of her gloved hand working his pre-cum-slick cock. She twisted her wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just beneath the head, and released another controlled burst of magic. This one felt like a dozen warm, wet tongues swirling around him all at once.

Sam’s head fell back, a broken moan escaping him. “Sersi—please—”

“Please what?” she teased, nipping at his jaw with sharp, perfect teeth. “Please stop? Or please make you come so hard you forget every woman who’s ever existed?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Sersi shifted her grip, one hand still stroking him while the other slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently with leather-clad fingers. The dual sensation—tight, rhythmic pumping on his shaft and soft, vibrating pressure on his sac—pushed him right to the edge.

Her eyes glowed faintly with cosmic power as she stared into his. “Come for me, Sam. Right here, above the city. Show me who owns this cock.”

The command hit him like a spell. Sersi intensified the magical current, flooding his entire length with pulsing, euphoric energy. Her hand became a blur of black leather and merciless pleasure. Sam’s body tensed, muscles locking as the orgasm crashed through him with violent intensity.

He cried out her name as he came, thick ropes of cum shooting into the open air between them, sparkling briefly with residual blue energy before falling toward the distant streets of Paris. Sersi milked him through every powerful spasm, drawing out his pleasure until his legs shook and his vision whited out.

When the last shudder left him, she finally allowed them to descend, slow and graceful, until they landed on a private rooftop garden somewhere in the Marais district. She tucked him gently back into his pants, zipping them with a fond pat, then cupped his flushed face in both gloved hands.

“Better?” she asked, her tone softer now, though the possessive fire still burned in her eyes.

Sam could only nod, pulling her close. His voice was hoarse. “You’re going to kill me one day.”

Sersi laughed, low and melodic, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “Only in the best ways, my love. And I’ll always bring you back.”

She rested her forehead against his, the city humming quietly beneath them. For a moment, the immortal enchantress simply held her mortal man, her jealousy soothed, her claim reaffirmed in the most intimate way possible.

But even as they stood there wrapped in each other, Sersi’s fingers traced lazy circles on the back of his neck, already thinking of what new ways she might remind him of her power when they returned to their suite.

The night was still young. And she had centuries of experience in keeping her lover utterly, blissfully addicted.