The air in the forgotten wing of the ancient Lugunican manor was thick with an unnatural stillness, a silence that hummed with latent energy. Dust motes danced in the slivers of moonlight piercing through the grimy panes, illuminating a scene both desolate and oddly alluring. It was here, amidst forgotten tapestries and the faint scent of decay mingled with something sweet and intoxicating, that he found her. Capella Emerada Lugnica, the Witch of Lust, was an impossible vision, a creature of breathtaking beauty and terrifying power, yet at this moment, she seemed merely a woman of exquisite, captivating grace.

Her blonde hair, the colour of spun moonlight, cascaded around her shoulders, catching the faint light like a halo, framing a face sculpted by divine hands. Her eyes, pools of molten gold, held a languid, assessing gaze that seemed to peel back layers of his very soul. She was perched on the edge of a velvet-draped chaise longue, one leg casually crossed over the other, her slender form accentuated by the daring cut of her black hot pants that hugged her curves with unapologetic audacity. The fabric strained just enough to hint at the tautness of her thighs, drawing his eyes to the soft swell of her hips, a silent invitation that made his heart pound an erratic rhythm against his ribs.

He had stumbled upon her, drawn by a compulsion he couldn't quite name, a magnetic pull that had led him through whispering corridors and cobwebbed chambers. He knew of her, as anyone living in Lugunica knew of the Witches of Sin, but to stand before her, stripped of legend and presented as raw, potent femininity, was an entirely different experience. A tremor ran through him, a mixture of fear and an undeniable, primal urge that stirred deep within his loins. She embodied everything forbidden, everything dangerous, and everything intensely, devastatingly desirable.

"Lost, little lamb?" Her voice was a low, melodic purr, a silken caress that sent shivers down his spine. It was a sound that promised both ecstasy and damnation, a siren's call that made resistance seem futile, even foolish. A slow, knowing smile played on her full, crimson lips, and he felt as if she could read every wanton thought that flickered through his mind, every hesitant yearning that his body betrayed.

He found his voice, a little huskier than he intended. "I… I think I might be."

Capella chuckled, a soft, seductive sound. She uncrossed her legs, her movements fluid and deliberate, the shift of her hot pants a subtle, exquisite tease. "Lost in my domain, perhaps? Or merely lost to yourself, eager to be found?" She rose then, unfolding from the chaise longue like a predatory flower, her gaze never leaving his. Each step she took towards him was a deliberate escalation of tension, her hips swaying with an elegant, almost hypnotic rhythm. The soft fabric of her top, clinging to her breasts, emphasized their lush fullness, and the line of her stomach was taut and flat beneath it.

As she drew closer, the intoxicating scent of her perfume, a rich, musky sweetness, enveloped him, clouding his senses. He could see the intricate lace details of her clothing, the way her golden eyes seemed to deepen with an unspoken hunger that mirrored his own burgeoning desire. He was caught in her orbit, powerless to resist the gravitational pull of the Witch of Lust. His breath hitched in his throat as she stopped just inches from him, her hand slowly, deliberately reaching out. Her fingers, long and delicate, traced the line of his jaw, sending a jolt of pure electricity through him. Her touch was soft, yet possessed an underlying strength that promised control, mastery.

"Such pretty eyes," she murmured, her thumb brushing over his lower lip. "So full of questions, so eager for answers." Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, a silent invitation, a challenge. The air crackled between them, thick with unaddressed longing. He found himself leaning into her touch, a silent plea for more, for anything she would offer.

A triumphant glint sparked in her eyes, a confirmation of her absolute power over him. "Come closer," she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet resonating deep within his core. He didn't need to be told twice. He closed the small distance between them, his hands hesitantly reaching for her waist. Her skin was warm, smooth beneath his touch, a shocking contrast to the cool confidence in her eyes.

She allowed him this intimacy, a small concession, before tilting her head, her lips parting slightly. He didn't hesitate. His mouth met hers in a tentative dance, a soft brush that quickly deepened into a fierce, desperate kiss. Her lips were soft, yielding, tasting of honey and something wild, something uniquely Capella. He devoured her, pouring all his suppressed desire, all his awe and fear, into the kiss. She met his intensity with equal fervor, her tongue exploring the cavern of his mouth, tangling with his, a battle for dominance that neither truly wanted to win. His hands moved from her waist, sliding upwards, past the tantalizing hem of her hot pants, to cup her bottom, pulling her flush against his hardening erection. A soft moan escaped her throat, a sound of pure pleasure that fueled his audacity.

With a guttural growl, he lifted her effortlessly, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. She laughed, a low, throaty sound that vibrated against his lips, and guided him blindly towards the chaise longue they had abandoned. He lowered her onto the plush velvet, her blonde hair fanning out around her head like a golden halo. He hovered over her, his eyes tracing every glorious curve, every line of her body that beckoned him closer. The hot pants, once a barrier, now seemed a delightful tease, hinting at the treasures beneath.

"Eager, aren't we?" she teased, her fingers lightly caressing his jaw, then trailing down his neck, past his collarbone, igniting a trail of fire. "Good. I like a man who knows what he wants… even if he needs a little guidance to get it." With a graceful arch of her back, she offered her lips again, demanding a deeper, more passionate kiss. His hands, trembling with urgency, went to the small buttons of her top, fumbling slightly before tearing them open. The soft fabric parted, revealing the perfect swell of her breasts, barely contained by delicate lace. He gasped, his eyes drinking in the sight, before he lowered his head, suckling at the ripe, taut peaks through the lace, eliciting a soft cry of pleasure from her.

She arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, urging him on. He discarded her top, his lips trailing down her stomach, across her navel, until he reached the waistband of her hot pants. With a deliberate slowness that drove him almost mad with anticipation, he began to peel them away. The fabric slid down her smooth, muscled thighs, revealing the pristine skin beneath, the enticing curve of her hips, the delicate lace of her underwear. He savored each millimeter of exposed skin, his tongue tracing a path of fire along her inner thigh as he tugged the hot pants completely off, casting them aside like a forgotten relic.

She lay before him, a vision of raw, untamed beauty, her eyes half-lidded with desire, her chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths. Only the delicate lace of her panties remained, a flimsy barrier between him and the promised land. He took his time, his fingers tracing the outline of the lace, the faint dampness already seeping through the fabric. He leaned down, his mouth pressing against the soft mound of her pussy, his hot breath teasing her through the lace. She gasped, her hips instinctively rising to meet his touch. He teased and tormented her, his tongue tracing intricate patterns over the fabric, until she was writhing beneath him, her hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer.

"Enough," she hissed, her voice thick with desperation. "Please, enough teasing."

A victorious smirk played on his lips. He loved seeing the powerful Witch of Lust reduced to such a state of primal need. With a slow, deliberate movement, he hooked his fingers under the lace and peeled away her panties, revealing the exquisite, delicate folds of her pussy, slick and glistening with her desire. The scent of her, musky and sweet, filled his nostrils, intoxicating him further. He lowered his head, taking a moment to simply gaze at the perfection before him, a treasure he had only dreamed of.

Then, he plunged his tongue into her, tasting the nectar of her arousal, delving deep into her slick folds. Capella cried out, a high, keening sound that reverberated through the silent manor. Her body tensed, her back arching off the chaise, her fingers digging into the velvet. He worked her tirelessly, his tongue a masterful instrument, swirling and teasing, flicking against her clitoris, then diving deep into her vaginal canal, mimicking the thrusting he knew she craved. She whimpered, pleaded, her legs splayed wide, her body trembling on the precipice of ecstasy. He felt her clench around his tongue, her hips bucking, her moans growing louder, until she shattered, a violent, glorious climax that left her gasping, trembling, utterly spent.

He rose, his own body throbbing with a desperate need, watching her slowly come back to herself, her eyes hazy with pleasure. "Your turn," she whispered, her voice still hoarse, a triumphant glint returning to her golden eyes. She reached for his belt, her fingers deftly unbuckling it, then sliding down the zipper of his trousers. With an impatient tug, she freed his erection, now straining painfully against his underwear. Her gaze, filled with a mixture of awe and hunger, raked over him, making him feel completely exposed, completely hers. With a flick of her wrist, she removed his briefs, freeing him fully.

She took him in her hand, her fingers encircling his shaft, stroking him with a gentle firmness that made him groan. He watched, captivated, as she leaned forward, her mouth opening, her lips closing around the head of his dick. He gasped, his back arching, as she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, teasing and drawing. She was a natural, a master of pleasure, sucking and licking with a practiced rhythm that threatened to unravel him almost instantly. Her blonde hair brushed against his inner thighs, a silken torture, as her mouth worked him over, drawing gasps and groans from deep within his chest. He clutched her head, his fingers tangling in her exquisite hair, urging her on, deeper, faster. He felt the delicious suction, the warmth of her mouth, the tantalizing swirl of her tongue, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.

Just as he felt the tremors of an impending climax, she pulled away, her lips slick and glistening, a mischievous smirk on her face. "Not yet, little lamb," she purred, her eyes shining with triumph. "We have so much more to explore."

She then shifted, rising to straddle his lap, her wet pussy pressing against his hard erection. The friction was unbearable, exquisite torture. He groaned, his hands instinctively reaching for her hips, pulling her closer, aligning them perfectly. She lowered herself slowly, agonizingly, until the head of his cock finally breached her entrance, sliding into her tight, wet sheath. A collective sigh escaped both their lips as he sank deeper, filling her completely. Her walls clenched around him, hot and slick, a perfect fit that made him tremble with raw sensation.

She began to move, a slow, sensual grind that set his blood ablaze. She controlled the pace, the depth, riding him with an elegant, almost regal authority. His hands moved to her waist, then up to her breasts, cupping their fullness, teasing her nipples with his thumbs as she rode him. He watched her face, contorted in a mask of pure pleasure, her blonde hair bouncing with each thrust. Her golden eyes met his, gleaming with a fierce, possessive lust that thrilled him to his core. He was hers, utterly and completely, lost in the potent embrace of Capella Emerada Lugnica, the Witch of Lust.

The sounds of their lovemaking echoed through the quiet manor: the rhythmic slap of skin against skin, the wet, squelching sounds of their bodies joining, their gasps, groans, and the occasional, almost animalistic cry of pleasure from Capella. She arched her back, throwing her head back, her throat exposed, as he thrust up into her, meeting her every downward grind. His hands slid down her back, over the lush curve of her bottom, squeezing and kneading as she bucked and twisted above him, taking him deeper with every movement. He felt his climax building again, a relentless wave threatening to engulf him.

He flipped them then, with a surge of strength, pressing her back against the chaise longue, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper. He began to thrust, a primal, urgent rhythm, driving into her with a force that made her cry out. Her nails raked across his back, leaving fiery trails, but he barely registered the pain, lost in the vortex of sensation. He felt her clenching around him, her contractions starting again, signaling her own impending climax. He matched her intensity, pushing into her harder, faster, his own body trembling on the verge of release.

"Capella," he gasped, her name a prayer, a plea. "I'm… I'm going to—"

"Yes," she hissed, her voice a raw whisper of pure desire. "Inside me, my lamb. Fill me. I want you… I want your seed, deep inside me. Creampie me, now!"

Her words were the final trigger. With a powerful thrust, he poured himself into her, a hot, thick flood of his essence filling her womb. He groaned, a deep, primal sound, as his body shuddered uncontrollably, emptying himself inside her. Capella cried out, a long, drawn-out moan of exquisite pleasure as she convulsed around him, her own climax blossoming fiercely around his throbbing cock. Her body shuddered, her nails digging into his shoulders, her blonde hair damp with sweat. She squeezed him tightly, milking every last drop of his release, basking in the warmth of his creampie spreading within her.

He collapsed onto her, his body heavy, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his face buried in the crook of her neck. The scent of their mingled sweat and sex filled his nostrils, a potent elixir that bound him to her. He could feel the warmth of his cum slowly seeping from her, a tangible reminder of their shared intimacy, a testament to the raw, unbridled passion that had consumed them. She held him tightly, her fingers gently stroking his hair, her breathing slowly evening out. He felt her shift beneath him, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping her lips. He lifted his head, gazing into her golden eyes, which now held a soft, dreamy quality, albeit still laced with that familiar, alluring mischief.

"That was… extraordinary," he whispered, his voice still hoarse. He felt completely spent, yet utterly fulfilled, a sense of peace settling over him that he hadn't known was possible. He was still within her, his body still joined with hers, a lingering connection that he never wanted to break.

Capella smiled, a small, knowing smile that spoke volumes. She ran a finger along his jawline, her touch now tender, possessive. "You are mine now, little lamb," she purred, her voice devoid of threat, filled instead with a soft, affectionate ownership. "You carry my mark, deep within you. And I carry yours." She squeezed her inner muscles, making him throb one last time, a final, delicious sensation. He knew she meant more than just the physical mark of their union. He was hers, irrevocably, utterly bound to the Witch of Lust from Re:Zero Starting Life In Another World. And lying there, nestled in her arms, feeling the warm aftermath of their passionate creampie, he realized he wouldn't have it any other way. The night was far from over, and the promise of more glorious, explicit nights stretched out before them, an irresistible temptation he was more than willing to surrender to.