MTLNOVEL Chapter 240: Insanity (18+)
They didn't stop moving—not for breath, not for sanity. The living room became a battlefield, every piece of furniture a casualty waiting to happen. She shoved him against the wall, he spun her into the couch, she clawed him toward the floor.
Somewhere between her laughter and his growl, an end table splintered under the impact of his back. Books scattered, a lamp hit the ground and died with a sad crunch of shattered glass. The air smelled like dust and sweat and faint incense still curling from the burner, overpowered now by the musk of skin and desire.
It was a blur of limbs and heat, her hair wild against his chest, his hands branding her hips, the sound of their bodies meeting over and over until it drowned out the faint creaks of the house settling in the night.
The servants outside pretended they didn't hear—pretended the low thuds, the gasps, the sharp sound of something wooden snapping in half were nothing but the wind.
They fucked like it was a duel. Like the winner got more than just bragging rights. Pride and Lust, neither willing to back down, neither willing to let the other finish without paying for it. And when one did, the other doubled down, dragging them back into the fight.
By the time the first hints of morning brushed pale light across the curtains, the living room was unrecognizable.
A chair lay in pieces near the far wall. The couch had collapsed in on itself, its frame twisted and its cushions scattered halfway across the room. The marble floor had dark lines where it had cracked, the carpet wasn't where it started.
Lux and Sira were sprawled in the wreckage, asleep in a mess that smelled like sweat and victory. She was draped over him on the carpet, her hair tangled across his chest, his arm curled lazily over her back. Neither had bothered with clothes.
Lux's eyes blinked open slowly, his head tilting just enough to glance at the slanted light breaking through the curtains. "What time is it?" he murmured, voice low from disuse.
[It's 07.31 AM, sir]
"Damn…" He dragged a hand over his face, careful not to dislodge Sira just yet. "Uh… my level and stats."
[Didn't I already give you the report yesterday?]
"I didn't check it." His mouth quirked faintly at the admission. "Had my hands full."
[You also didn't check my announcement mid-activity. I wonder why.]
Lux's smirk deepened. "Completely in heat. What's the verdict?"
The readout blinked in his vision.
[Name: Lux Vaelthorn]
[Level: 270]
[HP: 1,345,000]
[DP: 501,000]
[Charisma: 999 (Max)]
[Magic Affinity: 1,047]
[Strength: 788]
[Agility: 915]
[+15% Resistance to Light-Based Status Effects]
[+10% Spell Damage vs Celestial Targets]
"Not bad," he muttered, glancing at the little passive buffs with mild satisfaction. "Guess Pride's a hell of a workout."
Under his arm, Sira stirred, her body shifting slightly against him. The movement dragged a warm trail across his skin, reminding him exactly why they'd turned the room into a disaster zone.
Her pride would probably make her pretend she didn't remember every second. His pride, on the other hand, was fine with letting her know he remembered all of it.
Her breathing stayed slow, feigning sleep—or maybe waiting to see if he'd move first. He didn't. Not yet. He let himself feel the ache in his muscles, the way his skin hummed with leftover heat, the faint sting where her teeth had marked him.
Yeah. That was worth the broken furniture.
Lux's lips curved faintly as his eyes swept over the chaos. The couch was a casualty—frame split, cushions scattered like battlefield debris.
The marble floor bore hairline cracks where bodies had slammed down with enough force to make the house itself creak. A chair's remains were shoved into a corner, and the carpet had migrated halfway across the room, bunched under them like an accidental nest.
The air still held that thick, heady blend of sweat, skin, faint incense, and the metallic tang of adrenaline.
Sira stirred against him, slow and feline, her hair sliding like silk across his chest. She propped herself up on one elbow, eyes still hazy but carrying that dangerous glint Pride demons never lost—not even after being wrecked.
"Good morning," she murmured, voice smooth, unhurried.
She sat up, stretching with deliberate grace before beginning to tidy herself—her way of arranging the mess so it was still messy, but in a way that looked intentional.
Pride wasn't about being flawless; it was about making ruin look like art. His marks were all over her—reddened bites along her shoulder, faint bruises at her hips where his fingers had dug in, little crescents where his teeth had caught her.
He wasn't much better. Lipstick smeared faint red across his chest, his abs, even the insides of his thighs. Bite marks peppered his skin in matching defiance. And below, his cock still bore a telltale smear of color, faint but unmistakable, along with the faint ache of having been drawn on thirty-something times in the last… how many hours?
She rose to her feet, stretching again just to show she could, and glanced back at him with a lazy smirk. "That was… nice."
Lux's head tilted. "Nice? Just nice?"
She gave a small shrug, smirking as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. We did it like… um… thirty times last night?"
He snorted. "No. Thirty times was when we lost count."
Sira waved a dismissive hand. "Then maybe thirty-six or thirty-seven. I forget. Details."
He sat up, resting an arm over one knee, eyes still fixed on her. "Also… we haven't made a pact. You promised me."
She gave him a look that managed to mix mild annoyance with interest. "Yeah, that pact… should I?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation, voice like a blade cutting through the moment. "That's the deal."
Sira rolled her eyes, but there was no real fight in it. "Fine."