Chapter 1: Star Without Spark

The flat looked like a studio wearing a bedroom’s skin. Pink LEDs bled down the walls, ring lights hummed. The phone sat in its clip, eye-level with the bed. Aya checked angles with jittery thumbs. Twin ponytails tight, rhinestones sharp, crop top twisted high, thong riding up.

“We’re on,” she said, and hit live.

Noise poured in—handles stacking, hearts raining. Star fountain back. Daddy Sparxx in the building.

Ezric was already on the bed, singlet gone, chain against his chest. He watched her, not the screen.

Aya crawled onto him, grinning at the lens. She arched for the light, then turned to him and softened. “Hi, Daddy.”

He didn’t answer. He slid his hand up her spine, lifted the crop, and bared her tits. The chat detonated. Aya laughed and straddled him properly.

She pulled his shorts down and freed him: thick, veined, flushed. She held him up for the camera, showing what belonged to her. Then she brought him to her and sank in slow. Her pussy stretched around him, glossy and tight; the head pushed past her lips and disappeared. Aya’s mouth opened on a sound that wasn’t for anyone but them, then she remembered the lens.

“You seeing that?” she said, breath tripping. “Look how deep he is. Look at my cunt swallowing him.”

The camera caught everything: cock sliding back out slick, tits bouncing, her stomach tensing with each drop of her hips. She rode him hard, too fast for comfort, chasing heat instead of rhythm. The bed complained. The chain tapped her sternum when his chest met hers.

“Slow,” he murmured.

She shook her head and kept going. “You like this angle?” she panted, twisting so the lens could see where they met. “That’s his cock all the way inside—fuck—” She dragged herself higher, then slammed back down and let the pressure snap something bright. A hot rush shot out of her in a clean line across his stomach. The chat exploded.

It hit, but not the way she wanted.

“Turn me,” she breathed.

He rolled with her onto her knees. Hands at her hips. Pace steady, deep, mean. Aya arched, ass high, and reached back to spread herself for the viewers. The camera saw it: pink, swollen, stretched around him; his cock drawing back glossy and plunging to the hilt. Wet sounds filled the room. Her ponytails swung. She looked over her shoulder with her mouth open and said, “You seeing how he opens me up? That’s mine.”

Ezric gathered her by the back of the neck and pulled her upright, spine bowed into his chest. Not cruel. Just ownership. He drove her onto him and held her there until her legs shook. She clawed his forearm, not to stop—just to hang on.

“Harder,” she said, not a command. A prayer.

He gave it to her. Hips clapping. Thrusts clean. He didn’t look at the phone. He watched the muscle in her jaw and the way her breath lost count.

When it swelled again she tried to ride it higher, past the edge where she always tipped. “Don’t let me run,” she gasped, and he didn’t. He pinned her into the mattress, palm between her shoulder blades, and filed her full until the tension broke and the second squirt flooded hot over sheets and his thighs. The chat lost it.

The light stayed the same. Pink. Human. Ordinary.

Aya blinked sweat out of her eyes and swallowed rage. She rolled, dragging him down between her legs, heels dug into his arse to keep him where she needed. She opened herself to the lens with two fingers—showing the mess, the stretch, his cock pushing her open and retreating. “You hear that?” she rasped as slick noises filled the room. “That’s him all the way in me.”

He kissed her hard to shut the panic in her chest. It worked for a moment. She breathed through his mouth and let the rhythm take her, smaller sparks popping along her spine and dying before they became fire. Glitter smeared across her tits. Mascara ran. Her clit piercing flashed as she ground up to meet him.

A comment bobbed and sank: still no glow.

Aya stared at the corner of the screen like she could will the words to change. She dragged her eyes back to his. “Stay,” she said. A plea. He stayed. He pushed in deep and held her together, body to body, their noises big and real.

She came again, weaker, a tight clench and a soft sound she didn’t like. No spray. No halo. Heat, then hollow.

She reached out with a shaking thumb and killed the live.

Silence hit. The LEDs kept breathing. The ring lights hummed. The bed was a lake under them. The phone a dead eye on a stick.

“That should have done it,” she said to the ceiling. “Fuck. That should have been it.”

Ezric didn’t leave her. He pressed a bottle to her hand until she drank. He wiped his stomach, then laid his palm warm on her belly, thumb circling, patient.

“I gave them everything,” Aya said. “Gave you everything. Still just a show.”

He kissed her shoulder. Not a fix. A promise.

She stared at the tripod until her reflection swam up in the lens: makeup ruined, hair crooked, glitter smeared across her chest, her mouth set hard. She didn’t hate the face. She hated the absence of a sign.

“Girls are doing it in shitty bathrooms,” she said, small. “In cars. On couches with bad lighting. Riley did it in a hallway. I’m here lined up like a studio and it won’t touch me.”

He switched the ring lights off. The room softened to pink and shadow. Outside, a late bus sighed; the window rattled.

“Leave the strips,” she muttered. “I like the stupid glow.”

He left them. He settled behind her, heavy down her back, breath warm at the nape of her neck. The chain ticked her shoulder blade. His hand stayed on her stomach, the circle steady.

“Tomorrow,” she said. Not a question.

He nodded into her hair. She felt it.

“Different time. Maybe no set. Maybe just us.”

“Okay.”

“Even if it’s nothing.”

“Even if,” he said.

She let the hunger sit like a live wire under her skin. She wanted to cry and refused. She listened to the building shift and counted his breaths until hers matched.

“Don’t let me burn myself dumb,” she whispered.

“I won’t,” he said.

She believed him. The room held them—the mess, the breath, the mean little hope—and finally felt smaller than the thing they wanted.

Chapter 2: The Getaway

Ezric didn’t tell her until the duffel was zipped. Hoodie, toothbrush, a glitter thong tossed in because he knew she’d sulk if she didn’t have it. He swung the bag into the ute and jerked his chin. “Come.”

“Where the fuck are we going?” Aya asked, thumb already flicking through her feed like the scrolling was oxygen.

“Night off.”

“Babe, we could be live right now—”

“We’re not.” Same tone he used when he meant it. The kind that shut doors without slamming them.

An hour later, polished concrete, cedar, and glass. A high ridge above a valley of black trees. Fairy lights under the eaves, steam drifting from a private spa on the deck. Inside: wide bed, big windows, a kitchen that looked like it hated crumbs. Aya stood barefoot on warm timber and forgot to roll her eyes.

“This is… ours?”

“Two nights,” he said, setting the bag by the bed.

She looked at her phone like it was a child she was about to leave at day care. It buzzed; she didn’t check it. The silence outside felt thick and clean. No horns. No sirens. Just a breeze and the slow, deep, country night.

Later, under a thin blanket on the deck, the sky was a ceiling of salt. The spa steamed at their backs. His body was hot in the chill air. Aya straddled him slowly, crop top off, nipples hard from cold and want. She eyed the chair where her phone lay face down. “You know how much they’d tip for this shot?”

His hands settled around her waist. “No one’s watching but me.”

Her grin stuttered. She lined him up and slid down, cunt stretching slick around him, breath catching on a hiss. No bassline. No ring lights. Just the wet sound of him filling her and the low, involuntary sound that left her throat when her hips found the bottom.

He watched her face. The way she bit her lip when she worried she looked dumb. The quick blink like she still wanted to check a lens. His fingers pressed deeper. “Stay here,” he said. “With me.”

She nodded once, then rode him messy—hips dropping hard, tits bouncing in the starlight, wet slap loud in the quiet. The blanket slipped off her shoulders. The night air bit. Heat bloomed everywhere else. Every time his cock dragged out, her pussy clutched him back, greedy, a tremor rolling through her belly.

“Fuck,” she breathed, looking up at the sky instead of a screen. “Fuck—Daddy—”

He rolled, pinning her, kissed her quick and certain, then flipped her. “Up,” he said into her hair, hauling her onto her knees. She braced on her forearms, ass high, pink and swollen and glossy. He pushed back into her in one heavy stroke that shoved a broken sound out of her and hung there, just breathing, letting her feel every inch.

“Like that?” he muttered against her ear.

“Yes. Fuck me. Don’t be nice.” She rocked back to meet him, hair swinging, ponytails knocking her shoulders. “Give me that dick. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Hips clapping. Grip iron. The deck creaked faintly under them, fairy lights trembling. Her thighs shook on the second minute of hard, even strokes, slick running down to his balls. He dragged her back by the waist, buried to the hilt, held her there while she whimpered into her arms.

That’s when it started.

At the small of her back, a shine like sweat catching fire. A faint thread of gold under caramel skin, then another, then ten. The pattern raced up her spine, spilled across her hips, wrapped the top of her thighs. Aya didn’t see any of it—face turned, eyes shut, mouth open on filthy little prayers—but Ezric did. He froze for one breath with his cock inside her, heart punching his ribs, then moved like he’d been told a secret: deeper, slower, meaner.

“Babe,” he said, almost reverent.

“Don’t stop,” she sobbed, unaware, pushing back harder. “Don’t you fucking stop—please—”

Light flickered under his skin next—across his collarbones, down his arms, in the meat of his chest. Every thrust pulsed it brighter where their bodies met. It felt like fucking a live wire in warm water, like the world narrowing to heat and sound and a charge that made his teeth vibrate. He growled, fingers digging into her hips, and drove her until the begging turned into broken little yeses.

“Daddy—fuck—ohfuckohfuck—” Her body locked. The orgasm hit like a truck, violent and wet. She squirted in bright, hot pulses, soaking the blanket, splashing his thighs, crying out helplessly while he held her down and rode it with her.

He didn’t pull back. He ground in deep, cock thick and throbbing, breath ripping out of him in a snarl as he spilled inside her. Heat flooded her, each pulse dragging another crackle of light through his chest, through her cunt, through their bodies like a loop. He stayed buried, panting, pushing the last spurts as far into her as his body could send them, hips circling to make her feel every drop.

They collapsed forward together, stuck skin to skin. Her thighs trembled against his. The gold in her faded to a memory, a ghost simmering low. His glow held a shade longer, then sank under skin like a secret.

The night came back slow: the hiss of the spa, a distant morepork, the sound of both of them trying to find air. Aya’s cheek pressed to the blanket; her ass still tilted up, his cock still inside, softening by degrees. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to break whatever they’d cracked open.

Her phone buzzed on the chair. His phone vibrated in his pocket. She groaned, boneless. “Leave it,” she mumbled. “Fuck—my legs—”

Ezric slid one hand off her hip, reached, and grabbed her phone first. White screen. Black text.

You have been seen.

Road to Ascension – Apply Now.

His throat went tight. He thumbed his own phone out with the other hand. The same message burned his vision. He looked at Aya—ruined and perfect and blissed out—then at her screen again. He opened the alert. Deleted it. Set the phone back exactly where it had been, face down.

He stayed inside her until the last inch of him slipped free. When he pulled out, it was slow, a thick, wet slide that made both of them gasp. Heat leaked out of her in a velvet spill. He caught some with two fingers without thinking, pushed it back into her gently, then smeared the rest down over her swollen lips and clit. She flinched and moaned, shivering. “Fuck—”

“Good girl,” he said, thumb soft over the piercing. “Took it all.”

He watched his cum ooze back out and pool between her thighs, silver in the fairy lights, then streak down to the blanket in a lazy line. He drew the blanket up under her knees to keep her warm, kissed the point of her shoulder where his chain had left a little crescent dent.

Aya turned her head, hair stuck to her cheek, mascara in soft lines under her eyes. She reached for him blindly and pulled his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm like a thank-you. Her voice was small and knocked out. “That felt so fucking good.”

He lay down beside her and hauled her back against his chest, tucking her in under his arm. The stars didn’t feel far anymore. His heart finally started to climb down out of his throat.

“You’re shaking,” he said.

“I’m happy,” she said, muffled in his skin. A laugh that was almost a sob. “I don’t even care if we never post it. Don’t care if nobody sees. I just—fuck, Daddy. I needed that.”

“I know.” He kissed the crown of her head. He knew too well.

Her breathing slowed. She went heavy in his arm, glitter scratching his forearm, skin cooling in the breeze. He reached for the spare towel with his free hand and draped it over her back, then looked at his phone once more. The message sat there, waiting like a door he’d already opened.

He slid the phone back into his pants pockets. Not yet.

He lay there with her under fairy lights and real stars, listening to the spa hiss and the hills breathe, her warmth soaking into him and his into her. When she shifted, their mess smeared warm between them, another reminder under the night that what they’d done wasn’t a show. It was theirs.

He kept his palm spread over her belly and felt it rise and fall, slow, sure, unhurried by anyone else’s eyes. When she murmured and tucked a little closer, he held her tighter, and let the sky look all it wanted.

Chapter 3: Seen

Back in East Auckland, the flat looked smaller. Glitter in the carpet, ring lights in the corners, tripod like a patient dog. The neon glow felt fake after the valley and stars. Aya dropped onto the bed with a sigh, scrolling her feed.

“Our fans are losing it,” she said. “I haven’t gone live in three days. They’re begging.”

Ezric unzipped the duffel, kicked his boots off. “Not tonight.”

She rolled off the bed, grabbed her phone, clipped it into the tripod. “Then when? They’ve missed me. We could pull five figures easy if I squirt hard first round.”

He stepped behind her, caught her wrist, and held it firm. “No stream. Just me and you.”

Aya narrowed her eyes. Bratty grin at the corner of her mouth. “What, Daddy’s greedy now?”

“Yeah,” he said, steady. “Greedy.”

She laughed, rolled her eyes, but let the phone sit where it was. She stripped her crop top off and tossed it on the chair. “Fine. You want it private? Fucking earn it.”

Ezric brushed a thumb over the screen as he adjusted the tripod. Red dot blinked alive. She didn’t notice.

He tugged her shorts and thong off in one smooth pull, let them dangle at her ankle. His cock was already hard, flushed, thick. He gripped her ankles, pulled her down to the edge of the mattress, spread her wide. Her pussy gleamed, lips puffy and wet, clit piercing flashing under the light.

The chat blew up at once. Star fountain’s back. Daddy’s about to ruin her. Been waiting for this all week.

Aya lay back, licking her lips, teasing with her voice even though she thought it was private. “You’re staring like you’ve never had it before.”

Ezric lifted her legs onto his shoulders and lined himself up. He pushed deep in one stroke, burying to the hilt. Aya screamed, clutching at the sheets.

“Oh fuck—” She gasped. “God, Daddy, yes.”

The phone caught it all: his cock sliding in and out, her cunt stretched around him, the wet slap of their bodies. Tits bouncing, glitter smearing to sweat, mascara already streaking.

“Harder,” she begged, legs trembling. “Give it to me. All of it.”

He obeyed, slamming into her with long, brutal strokes. Her pussy squelched, clenching loud. She clawed at the sheets, moaning ragged.

The chat raced: She’s unreal. Daddy’s giving it raw tonight. Best live yet.

Aya was too far gone to notice. Her back arched, tits jiggling, mouth wide open. She squirted sudden, gushing over her stomach and thighs. The camera drank in the mess.

Ezric felt it before he saw it—heat rolling under her skin, shimmer starting low on her belly. Gold veins flared across her hips, over her tits, up her throat. Her whole body glowed, light pouring out like fire through glass.

Aya saw it this time. She looked down at herself, sobbing, screaming through another orgasm. “Daddy—I’m—fuck—” Her words dissolved into a cry as she squirted again, glowing brighter with each pulse.

The chat detonated. She’s glowing. This is real. Holy fuck, she’s ascended.

Ezric snarled, holding her ankles high, pounding deep. His chest lit too, arms burning with light under skin. He slammed to the root and came hard, spilling thick inside her. He stayed buried, grinding in, pumping until the last spurt left him shaking.

Aya clutched at the sheets, glowing, legs quivering. Her pussy twitched around him, cum leaking out as he dragged free. The phone caught his cock sliding out, slick and shining, seed spilling from her open cunt down her ass to the sheets.

She lay ruined, tits heaving, light ebbing slow. Her voice shook. “That… was so fucking real.”

Both phones buzzed at once. She reached for hers, thumb shaking. Screen white, text stark:

You have been seen.

Road to Ascension – Apply Now.

Her mouth fell open. “It’s here. I got it.” She swiped again—saw the feed. Comments exploding.

She glowed.

Daddy Sparxx lit her up.

No filter. No faking. We all saw it.

Aya froze. Her eyes flicked to the tripod, then to Ezric. Her chest still glowing faint.

“You—” she gasped, voice raw. “You went live.”

Ezric stood at the end of the bed, cock still half-hard, cum and sweat on his thighs. His glow faded slow.

“Now they’ve seen you too,” he said.

Aya stared at him, then back at the phone, where the world screamed her name.