Zake rounded the corner of the dungeon corridor, his boots scuffing against the uneven stone floor. He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing at the bizarre sight before him.

A mimic had Zara!

It had engulfed the young mage up to the waist, its fleshy, pulsating form gripping her tightly. Her upper body was completely submerged in its glistening, undulating mass, leaving only her hips and legs visible. The mimic shuddered, emitting wet, grotesque noises—glurp, glurk, schlop. The unsettling sounds echoed in the dim chamber, mingling with the faint crackle of the torch he held aloft.

Zara’s legs twitched and wiggled, her hips jerking as if trying to free herself. The mimic pulsed in response, its sticky surface rippling unnaturally, but it seemed to struggle, as though straining to pull her in further but unable to manage it.

Zake’s lips curled into a slow, crooked smile. “Having trouble there, huh?” he murmured, stepping closer, his tone half-amused, half-curious. He reached down and casually adjusted himself, his fingers brushing against his growing arousal. “Guess that makes two of us.”

The hips before him wiggled in response, the motion almost inviting. The mimic’s shifting form rippled around her, amplifying the surreal sensuality of the moment. Zake barely hesitated before his hands moved to his belt. The soft clink of the buckle echoed in the chamber as he loosened his belt, letting his leather greaves fall to the floor. The short sword in its scabbard made a clanking sound as the hilt struck the stone floor.

“No reason to let this opportunity go to waste,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. He laid the torch on the floor and moved forward, placing his hands on Zara’s exposed hips. His fingers also brushed against the mimic’s strange, sticky surface. It seemed to react to his touch and the pulsations quickened as he leaned forward.

Her movements stilled for a moment at his touch before the resumed, even more insistent. It was as though she was urging him on. The air in the dungeon felt thick, heavy with heat and the faint, otherworldly hum of the mimic. Zake closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the full intensity of it all.

Kneeling behind her, his hands trembled as he reached for the hem of her skirt, easing it up to reveal the smooth curve of her thighs. The dark tights clung to her skin, accentuating every contour. They were a tantalizing barrier; one the young rogue couldn’t resist removing. He gripped the fabric with both hands and tore it open with a sharp, satisfying rip. Her bare, inviting flesh was now exposed beneath.

Leaving one hand on her lower back, with the other he explored her readiness, his fingers brushing against her warm, moist slit. She was drenched; her thick, creamy nectar coating his touch and igniting his senses. The sensation was everything he had dreamed of and more. Her silence heightened the primal connection between them as he pressed on, lost in the moment.

Zake slid a finger inside her and marveled at the way her body responded, silent yet unmistakably expressive. Her hips moved subtly, seeking more, and her inner walls tightened around his finger, as though pleading for a deeper connection. Even without a single sound, her reactions spoke volumes, enticing him to explore her depths even further.

Zake smirked to himself, a flicker of cocky satisfaction flashing through his thoughts. “I knew you always wanted this as much as me. Let’s see how you handle the best damn cock in the realm,” he muttered, his words half to himself and half to the silent Zara.

Leaning closer, he let his forefinger brush against her most sensitive spot, a tremor rippling through her lower body in response. He gathered more of her creamy nectar, spreading it around to lubricate the area. His fingers squeezed and rolled the delicate nub with deliberate precision. Her reactions grew more urgent, her hips arching and clenching in an uncontrollable rhythm. Shifting his attention, he used two fingers to brush rapidly over the fleshy nub, the motion relentless and rhythmic. She bucked back against his hand, her body demanding more.

Her body tensed suddenly, her thighs pressing together as a powerful wave overtook her. A rush of warm, clear fluid spilled over his hand as she shuddered, her silent climax painting an image of pure surrender. The intensity of her release left him breathless, his hand still cradled against her folds as she trembled in its aftermath.

Zara wiggled her hips invitingly, her silent plea unmistakable. Zake’s hands tightened on her waist, his fingers brushing the slick residue of nectar clinging to her skin. The mimic shifted with a low, wet sound, the noise reverberating through the otherwise quiet chamber. Its surface shimmered faintly, like oil on water, as it undulated in place, almost as if echoing the rhythm between the two of them.

Zake leaned forward, his focus narrowing as he pressed against her. The heat of her entrance enveloped him, slick and yielding, as he slid into her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Her inner walls clenched tight around his cock, making it even more of a challenge to maintain control. Though she made no sound, the slight shudder of Zara’s body and the arch of her back told him everything he needed to know.

The mimic emitted a strange, gurgling noise, wet and unsettling, as its faux wooden surface rippled faintly beneath them. A faint, acrid scent of its adhesive secretion mingled with the musky warmth of their shared heat, filled the air. The combination of sensations—the subtle vibrations of the mimic’s shifting form, the overwhelming heat of Zara’s body, and the slick friction between them—drew Zake deeper into the moment, every sense overwhelmed.

Zara’s hips rolled to meet his rhythm, her movements fluid and urgent. The mimic also responded, its surface flexing slightly under their weight, letting out another wet, rhythmic sound. Its fleshy form pulsed and shifted with a life of its own, adding to the sensory overload of sound, heat, and scent that pulled each of them deeper into their shared intensity.

Zake moved with steady intensity, as his pace shifted between deep, deliberate thrusts and quicker, urgent motions, prolonging their connection. Zara’s body responded in kind, her hips rising to meet him, every silent signal driving him further. The mimic beneath them also shifted occasionally, its slick, wet sounds mixing with the soft slap of their joined movements. Its surface rippled faintly, as though part of the rhythm, a subtle but ever-present reminder of its unsettling sentience.