He comes, shuddering; and then, with his now-enormous cock still buried inside her, he heals her. It's slower than usual, skin and bone pulling themselves together over the course of a few long seconds instead of all at once.

It feels so good - but not quite good enough - she squirms and whines, shoving at his shoulders just to feel the rock-hard muscle refuse to give an inch.

He grins down at her; pins her wrists above her head, breaks them both with a casual squeeze of his hand; and starts fucking her again, in slow shallow grinding thrusts that really bring some emphasis to how huge he is right now, how thoroughly his cock fills her cunt. As he hardens again, her skin splits just from the increased pressure. Fresh blood trickles out of her.

She whimpers pleadingly, trying and failing to form words.

If she's pleading for him to fuck her harder, she'll get her wish soon enough.

Yes. Yes, that is exactly what she wanted. Her ribs snap and her hips shatter and she screams in agonized ecstasy.

This time, he heals her while he's still fucking her.

She comes. Her voice gives out partway through, her shriek faltering into a hoarse whine.

Shortly afterward, he comes too, and lets himself slip out of her this time. A gush of mingled blood and seed follows, pooling between her thighs. He kisses her forehead and flops next to her on the bed and gathers her into his arms, draping a wing over her back.

"That was fun. You okay?" he asks, petting her hair and healing her again to fix the voice and any lingering splits or fractures from that last half-minute.

"Mmmmm. Yeah, I'm great." Snuggle. "You're great. I don't think I've ever been fucked like that. You're like a force of nature. A river in flood."

He laughs. "Poetic. I like that." Kiss. "And I'm glad you enjoyed it. I would've felt bad if you'd caught your breath and said 'not that impolitely'."

Snort. "After the month I've had, I don't think there's any way you could fuck me where I'd complain of too much violence unless I was afraid I'd literally die."

"Good to know." Snuggle.

"The perks of being gang-raped by demons every waking moment for weeks!"

He laughs.

She giggles.

He snuggles her for a while, and then cleans up their mess and peels off a layer of wall to make her some clothes that actually fit her. A tunic and skirt in something like sparkling black silk, loose and floaty, with short pants underneath.

She twirls delightedly and kisses him and traipses out to the common room with her borrowed clothes in a bundle in case somebody wants them back.

The original owner doesn't happen to be in the common area but someone else offers to clean them and get them back to him.

Someone else can have a bundle of clothes and a hug!

He hugs her delightedly and then leaves to remove blood and semen from the pants.

What a good helpful collection of demons she has. She looks around for Khythen.

Khythen is doing something with a square piece of stone. It appears to be some sort of art; he's pretty engrossed in it.

She sits nearby and watches.

It turns out flesh is not the only thing he can carve pretty letters into; it's the poem he wrote on her arm.