Kneeling between your spread thighs, his gaze was riveted to your glistening pussy, a hunger burning in his ancient eyes. "This," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the air. "Brings me the most exquisite pleasure merely to behold."

The air felt thick with anticipation as Apocalypse slowly, reverently, brought his hand to your pussy, his thumb finding your sensitive pearl. The room smelled of jasmine incense mixed with the musky scent of his cologne, creating an intoxicating aroma that heightened your senses. You could feel the cool marble beneath your back where you lay on the ancient altar, a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through your body.

He began to rub, circling the bud with a maddeningly slow, deliberate rhythm that made your breath catch in your throat. "I want to taste your cum," Apocalypse purred sultrily, his thumb dancing with newfound urgency over your sensitive pearl. "And once you've peaked, my seed shall quicken within you, your womb ripe for my offspring."

He withdrew his hand, only to replace it with his mouth, delving between your glistening folds. His tongue, a versatile instrument, traced the length of your slit before focusing on the bud he knew brought you such intense pleasure. You arched your back as waves of pleasure washed over you, the sound of his eager lapping filling the chamber along with your increasing moans.