The crab-like carapace demon was tasty, but the real prize hung higher: clusters of crimson heart-fruit, each the size of a fist, skin velvet-soft and glowing like fresh blood under sunlight. Sunny climbed another tier of branches, shadows curling to steady his balance, and twisted three free. They dropped into his palm warm from the tree, pulsing faintly as though they had hearts of their own.
He swung back down to the wide limb where Nephis waited, legs dangling over empty air, silver hair whipping in the high breeze. The fight and the bath had left her skin luminous, every curve kissed by pale light. Sunny settled beside her, thighs brushing, and offered one fruit.
Nephis took it, bit; juice burst across her tongue, tart and electric. A thin rivulet escaped the corner of her mouth. Before she could wipe it away, Sunny leaned in and licked the drop from her lower lip, slow, deliberate. The taste of the fruit and her skin mingled into something dangerous.
"Too sweet," he murmured against her mouth. "Needs something saltier."
His fingers coiled around the second heart-fruit, lifting it from his palm. Nephis's eyes tracked the motion, pupils widening when the fruit drifted lower—between her breasts, over the trembling plane of her stomach—until it hovered at the apex of her thighs. She was still bare from the waist down; the cool air and the earlier rinse had left her folds slick and flushed.
Sunny nudged her knees apart with his own. The fruit pressed forward, soft skin meeting softer. Nephis inhaled sharply as the velvet surface kissed her clit, then slid lower, parting her with its weight alone. Sunny watched her face—every flicker, every bite of her lip—while his hands guided the fruit in a slow, deliberate circle.
"Hold still," he said, voice rough.
He eased the heart-fruit inside her, inch by warm inch. It was larger than his fingers, smaller than his cock, but the stretch was exquisite. Nephis's head fell back against the branch, a low moan vibrating in her throat as the fruit settled deep, cradled by her clenching walls. Juice seeped around it immediately, mixing with her own wetness until the crimson skin gleamed obscene and glossy.
Sunny's hand replaced the shadow. He curled two fingers alongside the fruit and fucked her with it—slow drags out, firm pushes in—until her thighs shook and her breath came in broken gasps. The branch creaked beneath them; far below, ash drifted like snow.
Nephis came with a sharp cry. Her cunt clamped down hard, crushing the heart-fruit inside her. Juice and cum gushed in a sudden flood, drenching Sunny's fingers, dripping from her entrance in thick, syrupy strands. Only when the last spasm faded did he draw the ruined fruit free—crimson skin split, flesh pulpy and soaked through with her release.
He brought it to his mouth and bit.
The taste exploded: sun-ripened sweetness, the metallic tang of the fruit, the unmistakable musk of Nephis's orgasm. He groaned, low and filthy, licking the ruined pulp from his fingers while she watched, chest heaving, cheeks flushed darker than the fruit itself.
"Your turn," she said, voice husky.
The last heart-fruit was still whole. Nephis took it, rolled it between her palms until the skin warmed, then straddled Sunny's lap in one fluid motion. His cock was already straining against the puppeteer's shroud; she ignored it—for now. Instead, she crushed the fruit against his sternum.
Crimson juice burst across his skin in a hot splash, racing down the defined lines of his abdomen, pooling in the hollow of his navel, trickling lower. Nephis followed the trail with her tongue—slow, deliberate laps from collarbone to nipple, teeth scraping, sucking the sweetness from his skin. When she reached the waistband she paused, eyes flicking up to meet his.
Sunny's hands were fisted in the bark, knuckles white. "Neph—"
She silenced him with a bite just above his hipbone, then licked a broad stripe through the sticky mess, gathering juice and the faint salt of his sweat. Lower still, until her breath ghosted over the bulge trapped beneath fabric. She pressed a kiss there, open-mouthed and wet, tasting fruit and anticipation.
"Later," she echoed his earlier promise, lips curving against him. "When we're on solid ground again. Then I'll clean you properly."
Above them, the heart-fruit clusters swayed in the wind, dripping crimson like slow wounds. Neither of them looked away from the other.