The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the panoramic window of the discreet apartment, casting long, lazy shadows across the floor. Outside, the world of Britannia and its eternal conflicts simmered, but within these walls, an unusual calm had settled. C.C., the enigmatic Grey Witch, sat cross-legged on the plush rug, a half-eaten slice of pepperoni pizza balanced on a pristine white plate. Her emerald eyes, usually filled with an ancient weariness or a mischievous glint, held a rare, contemplative softness as she watched the city breathe. Her vibrant, almost alien green hair cascaded around her shoulders, a stark contrast to the dark, simple t-shirt she wore tonight – a rare concession to comfort over her usual form-fitting attire.

The air was thick with unspoken history, with shared burdens and unyielding pacts. For so long, their relationship had been defined by strategy, by the weight of a world-changing ambition, by the cool logic of their intertwined destinies. Yet, in these quiet moments, stripped of the uniforms and the masks, something else began to unfurl, a delicate tendril of intimacy that had been nurtured in the shadows of their extraordinary lives. He watched her from the armchair, a gentle smile playing on his lips. This was C.C., his Immortal Witch, the woman who had guided him, challenged him, and understood him on a level no one else ever could.

“Still hungry, Pizza Girl?” he teased softly, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a familiarity born of countless shared meals. She merely hummed, taking another deliberate bite, savoring the taste, a small, almost imperceptible curl of her lips betraying her pleasure. It was a simple indulgence, this cheap, greasy comfort food, yet it was one of the few things that could consistently draw a genuine, unburdened reaction from her. Tonight, however, there was an added layer of sensual awareness, a palpable hum beneath the surface of their usual banter.

He rose slowly, moving towards her, the scent of the lingering pizza mingling with her own faint, unique fragrance – something subtle, like old parchment and rain. She didn't look up immediately, pretending an intense focus on her slice, but he saw the slight tremor in her hand, the almost imperceptible quickening of her breath. He knelt before her, placing a hand gently on her knee. Her skin, even through the fabric of her worn jeans, felt warm and alive. Her green hair brushed his arm as she finally lifted her gaze, those captivating eyes meeting his, revealing a depth of emotion usually hidden behind layers of centuries of experience.

“Finished?” he murmured, his thumb tracing slow circles on her knee. A shiver, faint but definite, ran through her. He knew this feeling, this subtle shift in their dynamic. It was the moment where the boundaries blurred, where the unspoken became undeniable. She nodded, placing the half-eaten pizza back on the plate, her appetite for food momentarily eclipsed by a different kind of hunger, one that had been simmering between them for far too long. He took the plate, setting it aside, then reached out, gently cupping her jaw. Her skin was incredibly soft, almost ethereal.

“You look… beautiful tonight, C.C.,” he whispered, his voice husky with desire. Her cheeks flushed ever so faintly, a rare bloom of color on her pale skin. She was the Grey Witch, the one who walked between worlds, seemingly immune to human frailties, yet in this moment, she was utterly, breathtakingly human. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, a feather-light touch that promised so much more. She met him, slowly at first, a hesitant response that soon deepened into a fervent kiss, her lips parting, inviting him in. It was a taste of pizza, of wine, of something uniquely C.C. – ancient and intoxicating.

His hand slid from her jaw to the nape of her neck, tangling in her soft green hair, gently pulling her closer. Her fingers, usually so adept with weapons or strategy maps, now gripped his shoulders, her touch firm, seeking purchase. The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding, a silent conversation of long-suppressed desires finally breaking free. He could feel the soft pressure of her breasts against his chest, her heart beating a rapid rhythm that mirrored his own. He wanted to peel away the layers, not just of her clothes, but of her carefully constructed indifference, to find the raw, passionate woman beneath. The legend of Zero's Mistress was one of strategic alliance, but tonight, she would be his mistress in every sense of the word.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, which were now clouded with unmasked passion. “C.C.,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips. She didn’t speak, merely nodded, her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. She wanted this as much as he did. With a gentle push, he guided her back, her slender body yielding to the soft rug. Her t-shirt, simple and unassuming, was quickly discarded, revealing the pristine white lace of her bra, a delicate cage holding the magnificent fullness of her breasts. They swelled beautifully, their curves hinting at the lusciousness beneath the fabric. This was the legendary C.C., the Immortal Witch, and her body was a canvas of timeless beauty.

His fingers trembled slightly as he unclasped her bra, the delicate lace falling away to reveal her bare Big Tits, rising proudly, tipped with soft, pale pink nipples that already hardened in the cool air. He stared, mesmerized by their perfection, by the sheer volume and exquisite shape of them. They were not simply large; they were perfectly proportioned, a testament to her unique allure. He leaned down, his tongue tracing a path around one engorged nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp from her. Her hands flew to his hair, clutching him closer, urging him on. He suckled, gently at first, then with increasing fervor, drawing her deep into his mouth, savoring the soft, pliable flesh, the exquisite taste of her. She arched her back, moaning softly, her green hair fanned out around her head like a halo on the rug.

“Oh… h-harder,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire, a sound he rarely heard from the stoic Grey Witch. He obliged, his mouth and hands working in tandem, teasing, suckling, fondling her breasts until they were flushed and swollen, exquisitely sensitive. Her body began to writhe beneath him, her hips shifting restlessly against the rough fabric of her jeans. He trailed kisses down her stomach, pausing to press a lingering kiss to her navel before unfastening her jeans. With a gentle tug, he pulled them down, along with her underwear, revealing the soft, tantalizing curve of her inner thighs, leading to the lush, verdant patch between them.

Her legs were long and elegant, and as she parted them slightly, he saw the faint sheen of moisture, a clear sign of her readiness. He moved between her legs, looking up into her eyes, seeking permission, seeking connection. She met his gaze, her eyes burning with an ancient fire, yet tempered by a newfound vulnerability. “Please,” she breathed, the single word more potent than any command. He leaned down, his tongue tracing the delicate folds of her labia, tasting her unique essence, sweet and tantalizing. She gasped, her fingers digging into the rug, her hips bucking upwards, silently begging for more. He continued his ministrations, teasing her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, then enveloping it fully, sending waves of pleasure through her.

Her moans grew louder, more uninhibited, a symphony of pure ecstasy. This was not the aloof Immortal Witch; this was a woman utterly consumed by sensation, by the raw, primal urge to feel, to be touched, to be filled. As he worked his magic between her legs, his hands roamed over her body, appreciating every curve, every dip. His palms settled on her hips, feeling the exquisite firmness of her flesh. When she finally bucked against his face, a shuddering orgasm tearing through her, her body trembled uncontrollably, her cries echoing in the quiet room. He held her close, letting her come down slowly, savoring the feeling of her release against his tongue.

After a moment, she took a shaky breath, her eyes still half-closed, a blissful smile on her face. “You… you always know how,” she murmured, her voice still thick with emotion. He leaned up, kissing her tenderly. “Only with you, C.C.” He positioned himself above her, looking down into her eyes, which now held a renewed spark of passion. He slowly pushed into her, feeling the exquisite warmth and tightness of her sheath gripping him. She gasped, her body arching to meet him, welcoming him deeper. He moved slowly at first, allowing her to adjust, allowing their bodies to synchronize. He watched her face, fascinated by the play of emotion, the mixture of ancient wisdom and primal instinct. Her green hair splayed across the rug, framing her flushed face.

With each slow thrust, he felt her tighten around him, drawing him further into her depths. He began to pick up the pace, his hips grinding against hers, the rhythm growing more insistent, more primal. Her moans became a breathless litany, her fingers digging into his back, pulling him even closer. He reveled in the feeling of her magnificent Big Ass rising and falling with each thrust, the soft, firm flesh a testament to her hidden power and allure. He loved the way her hips moved, the way she met his every push with an eager counter-thrust, a silent challenge that fueled his desire even further. He could feel the immense power of her body gripping him, squeezing him, driving him to the brink.

He leaned down, burying his face in her neck, inhaling her unique scent, whispering endearments into her ear. “You’re so beautiful, C.C. So incredible.” Her response was a choked gasp, her body tensing, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist, pulling him in even deeper. He pulled back slightly, then plunged forward with renewed force, hitting her most sensitive spot, eliciting a guttural cry from her that echoed off the walls. She was wild, untamed, a force of nature beneath him, her control utterly shattered by passion. The Immortal Witch was lost in sensation, her millennia of existence reduced to this one exquisite, consuming moment.

As their climax approached, he saw a mischievous glint return to her eyes, even through the haze of passion. She pulled his head down, her lips brushing his ear. “My turn,” she whispered, her voice surprisingly firm, despite her heavy breathing. Before he could react, she pushed him onto his back with surprising strength, straddling his hips. Her magnificent Big Tits swayed with the movement, demanding his attention. She lowered herself slowly, taking him fully inside her, a deep, satisfying stretch that made him groan with pleasure. From this vantage point, he could truly appreciate the stunning curve of her Big Ass, the way it flexed and tightened with each deliberate grind.

She began to ride him, slowly at first, then picking up speed, her green hair bouncing around her shoulders, her eyes locked onto his. She was in control now, a goddess of pleasure, dictating the pace, orchestrating their shared ecstasy. He reached up, cupping her full breasts, kneading them gently as she rode him, watching her nipples harden under his touch. The sight was intoxicating, her uninhibited passion a beautiful, brutal thing. Her moans mingled with his, a duet of desire that filled the room. She leaned forward, her chest pressed against his, her lips finding his in a searing kiss, her tongue delving deep, mirroring the penetration below.

As their bodies intertwined, he felt an overwhelming surge of love, not just lust. This was C.C., the woman who had seen his darkest depths and still stood by him. The woman who bore the curse of immortality with stoic grace, now yielding to the profound joy of shared humanity, even if only for a night. The realization deepened their connection, making every thrust, every touch, every kiss infinitely more meaningful. He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly, letting her fall back down onto him with a powerful, satisfying thud. She cried out, her body arching, her orgasm imminent.

“Look at me, C.C.,” he urged, his voice thick with emotion. She opened her eyes, brimming with tears of pleasure, and met his gaze. As she climaxed, a powerful shudder rippling through her entire body, her cry was one of pure, unadulterated release, a sound that would forever be etched into his memory. He held her tightly as she collapsed onto his chest, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged. The aftershocks of her orgasm sent delicious tingles through him, and he soon followed, his own release powerful and all-consuming, a torrent of sensation that left him utterly spent.

They lay there for a long time, entangled, the sounds of their labored breathing gradually calming. The city lights still twinkled outside, a silent witness to their intimate confession. He ran a hand through her soft green hair, gently stroking her scalp. She nestled closer, her head resting on his shoulder, her Big Tits pressed comfortably against his side. The Grey Witch, the Immortal Witch, the formidable Zero's Mistress, was simply C.C. tonight, his C.C., vulnerable and content in his arms. The lingering scent of pizza and their shared passion filled the air, a potent reminder of the journey they had just taken.

“That was…” she began, her voice a soft purr against his skin, “unexpectedly… fulfilling.” He chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Only unexpectedly for you, C.C. I’ve known for a long time.” She smiled, a truly genuine, luminous smile that softened the ancient lines around her eyes. “Perhaps… perhaps immortality isn’t so lonely after all.” He held her tighter, his heart swelling with a warmth that rivaled the heat of their encounter. In the quiet aftermath, their bond had deepened, forged not just in strategy and pacts, but in the fiery crucible of shared desire, in the raw, beautiful intimacy that had finally broken through her centuries of defenses. The Pizza Girl had found a new kind of satisfaction, a love that transcended time, a promise of many more nights where their souls, and their bodies, would continue to intertwine.