Chapter 67: Chapter 67: Armpit her eyes fluttering. The logic part of her brain was gone, drowned in dopamine. She would agree to anything. She wanted anything he would give her. "Deeper?" she breathed, her hips twitching involuntarily, seeking that friction again. "Yes," he said, his other hand moving to unlace the front of his trousers. "To truly heal you... I need to plug the leak. I need to go inside and seal the energy." He freed himself. His cock sprang free, heavy and throbbing. He pressed the blunt head of it against the wet fabric of her trousers, right over her entrance. The heat of her soaked clothes scorched him. "Is that okay, Aunt?" he asked, though it wasn’t a question, since he already got his cock out. "Can I remove this barrier and heal you fully?" He pressed the blunt, feverish head of his cock against the soaked fabric of her trousers, ready to shove them down and seal the deal. But just as his fingers hooked into her waistband to peel it away, Lyra stiffened. The haze of pleasure in her eyes cleared for a fraction of a second... shattered not by the realization of what he was doing, but by a deep-seated, superstitious fear that overrode even the lust he had instilled in her. "No!" She gasped, clamping her thighs together with surprising strength. She tried to scramble forward, dragging her body across the furs away from his touch. "Sol, stop! You cannot remove them!" Sol growled, his hand tightening on her hip. "Why? The treatment requires skin contact. I need to reach the source." "Not here!" she hissed, her voice trembling with genuine spiritual terror. "This is the Hearth... the Ancestor’s soil! To bare one’s fertile parts where we eat... where the spirits watch... it is forbidden! The Ancestors will curse the bloodline! He gritted his teeth, his frustration spiking. ’Damn Superstition, I thought I had given her enough pleasure to forget this damn superstition, but it seems like it is truly rooted deep.’ Even though he knew that it was futile, but he still tried again to push a command into her mind, to shatter that primitive taboo with a wave of Ash Gray energy, to make her forget the gods and only see him. He reached for the power... but he grasped at air. Empty. He had truly scraped the bottom of his mental reservoir. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough juice to overwrite a core religious belief right now. He let out a sharp, ragged sigh, looking down at her trembling form. She was a mess... flushed, leaking, and desperate for him... but her fear of the ’sacred’ was a wall he couldn’t smash without more energy. "Fine," he grunted, pulling back slightly. He wasn’t going to fight a ghost story with a raging cock...not when he could improvise. He looked down at her. She was lying on her stomach, clutching her trousers up, terrified of "being naked" in the sacred space. But her upper body... her upper body was right there. And surely, the Ancestors didn’t care about "shoulder massage." His eyes traveled up the curve of her spine, past the sweat-slicked shoulder blades, landing on the exquisite junction of her arm and torso. A wicked, deviant idea formed. If he couldn’t use the hole that nature intended because of her superstition, he would use a hole that required no undressing. It was something he had always fantasized about in his old life, a deviant little craving he had never voiced. "If I cannot seal the lower leak because of the Ancestors..." Sol murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he crawled upwards. "Then I will relieve the tension elsewhere." He crawled upwards, his heavy erect cock dragging wetly along her spine, leaving a trail of her own fluids mixed with his precum on her back. He positioned himself near her head, kneeling by her shoulder. "Lift your arm, Aunt," he commanded. Even without free use energy, his voice was enough to control her now. "The stress hides in the joints. I need to press it out." Lyra, relieved that he hadn’t forced the sacred taboo, nodded glazely. She was still swimming in the endorphins of her earlier climax, trusting him completely. "My... arm?" she slurred, lifting her left arm obediently. "Yes... fix the arm." Sol wasted no time. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm slightly away from her body to reveal the hollow of her underarm. It was perfect. The area was damp with the honest sweat of her day’s labor, glistening in the dim light. And surprisingly there wasn’t even a shadow of hairs, he didn’t if it was just her or there was anything special in this world, but he wasn’t in the mood to contemplate that, he was drowning in lust now as that hollow, trapping her potent, musky scent... raw pheromones that hit him like a drug. It was truly a pocket of heat, untouched and intimate. "This is where the knot is," he whispered, his voice deep and husky. He didn’t need lube. Her sweat was enough. He positioned the head of his throbbing cock against the soft, damp skin of her armpit. The heat there was suffocating, intense. "Clamp down," he ordered, guiding her arm back against her ribs. "Squeeze your arm against your side, Lyra. Tight. I am going to use a friction tool." She obeyed, pressing her arm inward, oblivious to what the "tool" actually was. The sensation was exquisite. The soft flesh of her inner arm and the side of her breast created a tight, hot tunnel that engulfed him. It wasn’t the wet grip of her pussy, but it was silky, incredibly hot, and humiliatingly intimate. "Oh..." Lyra breathed into the furs as she felt the thick, hard length of his cock sliding between her arm and ribs. "Sol... this pressure... It is very strange." "It finds the deep nerves, this is what ancestors have taught me," he groaned, grabbing her shoulder with one hand and her hair with the other to anchor himself. And slowly began to thrust.