The oppressive quiet of the apartment after a high-tension mission always felt heavier to Asuka Soryu Langley than the roar of an Eva's AT-Field collapsing. Tonight, however, the silence hummed with a different kind of electricity, a raw, primal energy that had been building between them for weeks, months even, since the last remnants of Instrumentality faded and a fragile new world began to tentatively find its footing. Her nerves, usually coiled tight as a spring, were thrumming with an unfamiliar mixture of exhaustion and a fierce, unbidden longing.

He was there, as he often was, a silent anchor in her storm-tossed existence. He wasn't one for grand declarations, but his presence was a constant, a quiet strength that chipped away at her carefully constructed walls. Tonight, his gaze, usually so steady and understanding, held a new intensity, a dark heat that mirrored the tremor in her own core. The faint glow of Neo-Tokyo’s distant lights filtered through the panoramic window, painting the room in hues of deep indigo and silver, a perfect backdrop for the unspoken drama unfolding between them. Asuka, still in her slightly damp plugsuit undergarments, felt a blush creep up her neck, an infuriating betrayal of her usual cool composure. She hated feeling exposed, hated feeling anything that wasn't rage or triumph, but with him, a different vulnerability always surfaced.

“Rough day, huh, Asuka?” His voice was a low rumble, devoid of judgment, yet it still managed to unravel her. She scoffed, turning away to stare out at the cityscape, pretending to be utterly uninterested. “As if any day isn’t ‘rough’ when you’re saving humanity, baka.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, a reflexive defense mechanism, but she felt his approach anyway. A warmth spread across her bare shoulder as his hand came to rest there, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down her spine. Her muscles, tense from piloting, seemed to soften under his fingers, craving the simple contact.

He didn’t pull her close, didn’t try to force anything. He simply stood there, his warmth radiating against her, letting her decide. That was his way. And that, paradoxically, was what always made her give in. The control she so desperately clung to was hers to relinquish, not his to seize. She closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips, a sound of weary surrender she rarely allowed herself to make. Her head tilted back, resting against his shoulder, her fiery red hair a stark contrast against his plain grey shirt. The scent of him – clean linen, a hint of steel, and something uniquely masculine – filled her nostrils, intoxicating her.

“I’m tired,” she whispered, the words barely audible, a profound confession from the girl who always claimed to be invincible. His hand moved from her shoulder, stroking down her arm, his thumb tracing the sensitive skin of her inner elbow before his fingers intertwined with hers. He squeezed gently, a silent promise. She turned in his embrace then, her eyes meeting his. In their depths, she saw not just desire, but respect, and a deep, quiet affection that bypassed all her usual defenses. It was overwhelming, exhilarating, and terrifying all at once.

His lips met hers then, soft at first, a hesitant question, a tentative exploration. But as her own lips parted, returning the kiss with an urgency that surprised even herself, it deepened. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his solid body, and she felt the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the tautness of his muscles, the undeniable heat building between them. Her hands, initially fisted at her sides, found purchase on his shoulders, then tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. This wasn't just a kiss; it was a release, a yearning, a desperate need for connection that had festered beneath the surface for too long.

The kiss grew hungrier, hotter, their tongues dancing a passionate tango, tasting, exploring, claiming. Her body arched into his, a low moan rumbling in her throat as his hand slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, then dipping lower to cup the swell of her ass, pressing her hips into his. She felt his erection, hard and insistent against her belly, a thrilling confirmation of his desire. Her breath hitched, her mind reeling with the pure, visceral sensation. This was Asuka Soryu Langley, the Second Child, stripped bare of her bravado, craving purely physical, animalistic pleasure.

He lifted her then, with surprising ease, carrying her to the large, plush sofa. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms still locked around his neck, not breaking the kiss for a moment. He lowered her gently onto the cushions, his body following hers, pinning her beneath him. The soft material of the couch yielded to her form, a stark contrast to the rough edge of her desire. Their lips finally parted, gasping for air, but their eyes remained locked, pupils dilated, reflecting the burning intensity in the room. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged pants. "Finally," she managed to whisper, her voice husky, a tremor running through it.

His hands went to the straps of her remaining plugsuit undergarments, deftly unfastening them, peeling away the last vestiges of her protective shell. Her breasts, full and pert, spilled free, their rosy nipples already hard and begging for attention. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing a slow, agonizing path down her throat, across her collarbone, before settling on one swollen peak. A sharp gasp tore from her lips as he suckled, drawing her deep into his mouth, his tongue swirling, teasing, creating an exquisite ache that spread through her entire body. She arched her back, pressing herself harder against him, whimpering his name.

His other hand found the junction of her thighs, his fingers tracing the delicate folds of her pussy, already slick and hot with anticipation. He teased her clit through the thin fabric, a light, almost unbearable pressure that made her hips buck involuntarily. "Please," she pleaded, her voice thick with need, no longer caring about pride or appearances. She just wanted to feel him, all of him, inside her. The raw, **uncensored** reality of her desire was overwhelming her, consuming every thought.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he peeled away her panties, discarding them to the floor. Her legs instinctively parted wider, offering herself completely. He knelt between her thighs, his eyes devouring her, making her feel utterly exposed, yet incredibly desired. He leaned down, and her breath caught as his tongue replaced his finger, swirling over her clitoris, delving into her wet folds. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, pressing him harder against her. The sensations were beyond anything she'd ever known – a wild, desperate pleasure that had her hips lifting off the couch, grinding against his face.

He pleasured her until she was writhing, on the verge of climax, her entire body trembling with the intensity of it. Just as she felt the first delicious spasms begin, he pulled away, leaving her gasping, frustrated, and even more desperate. "You want it, Asuka?" he rasped, his voice rough with his own burgeoning desire. "Tell me you want it."

"Yes! God, yes!" she cried, her voice cracking with the sheer force of her need. "I want you inside me, now!"

He smiled, a dark, knowing smile that made her heart pound even harder. He positioned himself between her legs, pressing the head of his throbbing erection against her swollen entrance. The friction, the heat of him against her, sent another wave of shivers through her. He pushed, slowly, deliberately, stretching her open. She gasped, a mix of pain and pleasure as he began to slide inside. Every inch was a new sensation, a profound fullness she’d never experienced. Her muscles clenched around him, gripping him tightly as he sank deeper and deeper, until he was fully buried within her.

Her cry was a guttural sound, part relief, part ecstasy. He held himself still for a moment, letting her adjust, letting them both savor the exquisite feeling of being finally joined. Then, he began to move, a slow, deep thrust that sent her hips arching off the couch. He pulled back almost to the tip, then drove back in, plunging deep, hitting her cervix with a delicious thud. The rhythm became faster, more insistent, mirroring the frantic beating of her heart. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, urging him on, meeting each of his thrusts with her own desperate grind.

His hands went to her wrists, pulling them above her head, locking them together in a firm but not painful grip. This simple act of restraint, this subtle dominance, ignited a new spark within her. It was the **full nelson** of desire, allowing him to control her movements, to fully take her. She bucked beneath him, her hips lifting and falling with his, lost in the primal dance. Her head thrashed from side to side, her red hair fanned out against the cushions as gasps and moans tore from her throat. He leaned down, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses on her neck, her jaw, her collarbone, his body a heavy, delicious weight on hers.

He pulled out, only to shift their position. He rolled her onto her side, then guided her onto her hands and knees, positioning her over the edge of the couch, her ass lifted and exposed. This was the **doggy style** she instinctively knew she craved. The shift in angle allowed for even deeper penetration, hitting spots she hadn't known existed. He re-entered her from behind, a powerful thrust that made her cry out, her voice raw with pleasure. He held her hips, gripping them firmly, controlling the pace, dictating the depth. His thrusts were long and deep, sliding in and out with a slick, rhythmic precision that sent waves of pure sensation through her core.

She could feel the full length of him, stretching her, filling her completely. Her ass cheeks quivered with each thrust, the sight of his powerful hips driving into her, of her own body being so thoroughly taken, arousing her beyond measure. The sounds were loud now: the wet slap of skin on skin, the creak of the sofa, her own increasingly desperate moans mingling with his guttural grunts. He slapped her ass, a sharp, stinging sensation that only fueled the fire, making her whimper and press back into him, demanding more of this exhilarating, **rough sex**.

“You’re so tight, Asuka,” he breathed against her ear, his voice hoarse, "so unbelievably hot." He pulled her hair gently, tilting her head back, exposing her throat, and she felt a primal thrill surge through her veins. He leaned in, biting her earlobe, sending another jolt of pleasure through her. He continued to pound into her, his hips rotating, grinding against her clit with each deep thrust, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Her muscles were screaming, her body trembling, but she wanted it to go on forever.

Then, just as she was on the precipice of an explosive orgasm, a new sensation. He pulled out of her wet entrance, leaving her momentarily bereft and confused. Before she could protest, he turned her slightly, adjusting her position, and she felt the firm head of his cock press against a different, tighter opening. Her eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and apprehension crossing her face. He waited, his eyes silently asking permission. The thought of **anal** had always been taboo, something for others, not for the proud, prim Asuka Soryu Langley. But in this moment, consumed by desire, by the raw, animalistic need that had taken hold, she found herself nodding, a soft, breathless "yes" escaping her lips.

He eased in slowly, his thrusts tentative at first, stretching her delicate entrance. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath as the unfamiliar sensation overwhelmed her. It was tight, incredibly so, and a different kind of fullness entirely. She gritted her teeth, her hands fisting into the cushions, trying to relax around him. He paused, letting her body adjust, whispering reassurances, stroking her back gently. Then, he began to push again, inch by excruciating, exhilarating inch, until the head of his cock finally slipped past the tight sphincter, sinking deeper. A muffled cry escaped her, a mix of shock and a strange, thrilling surrender.

Once he was fully inside, the tightness was almost unbearable, but the sensation of being so utterly full, so completely invaded, was overwhelmingly erotic. He began to move slowly, carefully at first, then gaining confidence as her muscles began to relax, clenching and unclenching around him. She found a new kind of pleasure in this, a deeper, more primal penetration that bypassed all thought, all inhibition. Her ass cheeks were spread wide, revealing the raw intimacy of the act, and she found herself grinding back against him, meeting his thrusts with an almost desperate abandon. The friction was incredible, the stretch profound, and she felt herself losing control in a way she never had before.

His hands moved from her hips to her waist, pulling her back against him, making their bodies slam together with a satisfying thud. He began to thrust harder, faster, pounding into her with a ferocity that bordered on brutal, yet felt exquisitely good. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her moans becoming a continuous, guttural sound, her body shaking uncontrollably. He was pushing her past her limits, past anything she thought she could endure, and she loved every single second of it. Her head fell back, her neck arched, and she cried out, her voice raw and primal.

“Look at you, Asuka,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, as he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look back at the reflection of their joined bodies in the darkened window. She saw her own flushed face, her dilated eyes, her mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure, and the undeniable sight of his cock disappearing into her tight, puckered ass. The pure, **uncensored** reality of it, of her own vulnerability and wild abandon, fueled the fire even more. It was humiliating, exhilarating, and utterly captivating.

Her orgasm hit her like an Eva going berserk. It was a violent, shattering wave that coursed through every nerve ending, making her entire body convulse. Her ass clenched around him in spasms, milking every last drop of pleasure from him. Her climax was so intense, so shattering, that she cried out, a loud, drawn-out wail that echoed in the quiet room. Her legs buckled, and she would have collapsed if he hadn't held her so tightly, continuing to pump into her, riding the waves of her orgasm.

He felt her climax, her body gripping him so intensely, and it pushed him over the edge. With a final, guttural roar, he pulled back slightly, then drove deep, burying himself to the hilt, spilling his hot, thick **creampie** deep inside her. She felt the warmth of his seed flooding her, a strange, profound sense of fullness and completion. He groaned, collapsing against her back, his body heavy and spent, still throbbing inside her as their combined moans slowly faded into the quiet hum of the city.

They remained intertwined, his breath hot against her neck, the scent of their mingled arousal heavy in the air. Her body was still trembling, her muscles aching in the most satisfying way possible. The world outside, with its Evas and Angels and existential dread, seemed light years away. In this moment, there was only the two of them, the lingering heat of his seed inside her, and the profound, almost spiritual connection forged in the crucible of raw passion. Asuka, the fierce, unyielding pilot, found herself softer, more vulnerable, yet paradoxically stronger than she had ever been. He pulled her closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her head. For the first time in a very long time, Asuka Soryu Langley felt utterly, completely, beautifully at peace.