That—this right here, this closeness, this warmth—meant more to me than anything I’d ever touched before.
"I know it’s a lot," I whispered. "Probably too much. But I need you to see me. Not just this body, not the man who teases or flirts or talks shit with a smirk on his face. I need you to see me. The raw, cracked, bleeding version. The one that never got to be held until now."
And maybe it was stupid.
Maybe I was ruining the mood, going soft in the head—but I didn’t care.
Because she was still here.
Still listening.
Still warm in my arms.
So I said it. Quiet, tired, like I was half falling asleep—but every word burned true.
"So you know... I love you. Might’ve been love at first sight. Maybe it was the way your face looked covered in my cum—"
"!!?"
"OW—!"
Her teeth sank right into my chest. No warning, no mercy. It wasn’t playful. It hurt—enough to make me wince, eyes snapping open as I gasped.
She looked up at me, golden eyes fierce, lips curled into something between a pout and a glare, and yeah, I could feel the mark she left.
"I don’t know what the hell you just said," she muttered, "but don’t ever mention that day again."
I stared at her.
Then laughed.
"Sorry, it’s just... you looked so ravishing that day," I teased, laughing it off and hugging her. With both of our bodies warmed, reaching each other, I closed my eyes, slowly drifting into sleep.
There was nothing I could do except that. And after not getting a good sleep for so many days—even being together all this time—it felt comforting as she buried her head against me, crimson flush on her cheeks from my words, before slowly... we both drifted into sleep.
"Good night, my Princess...."
. . . . . .
Morning crept in, soft and slow.
I didn’t wake all at once. It was one of those hazy drifts—somewhere between a dream and a memory, where warmth still wrapped around me and my thoughts hadn’t caught up to reality yet.
There was something warm against my side. A presence. Familiar. Comforting.
And then...
Movement.
Down low.
I frowned slightly in my sleep, groggy, my hips twitching at the sensation.
A hand. Around my cock. Slowly... stroking. Not skilled. Not smooth. More like... curious. Clumsy. Almost mechanical in its rhythm, like someone trying to solve a puzzle.
My eyes cracked open.
And there she was.
Asperia.
Sitting upright beside me, dress loosely hanging around her waist, her long hair a messy halo in the early light. Her face calm. Cold. Beautiful. And blank.
But her hand... was still moving. Still wrapped around my length. Watching it. Watching me.
Her golden eyes met mine, dead on.
I blinked, stiffened.
My heart stammered against my ribs as I looked down—just in time to see her slim fingers curling around my shaft, still stroking in that strange, unsure pattern.
Her grip was uneven, the pace odd, but the fact she was doing it at all sent my nerves sparking.
"What... are you doing?" I asked, my voice cracked and low.
That was a mistake.
Her free hand shot down and grabbed my balls. Hard.
"Stop—stop, stop—!" I winced, breath catching as a jolt of pain fired up my spine.
She squeezed just enough to make me squirm—her face still unreadable.
Then she spoke.
"Oh, so this too-soft thing hurts... while the long one makes you enjoy?"
My throat bobbed.
I didn’t even try to speak. I just nodded. Gulped. Stayed still.
Because right now, I wasn’t sure if I was being studied, tortured... or teased.
Maybe all three.
"Please, ugh, don’t do that again..." She didn’t answer.
Instead, her fingers released my balls, not gently—but not cruelly either. Like a child putting a fragile toy back where it found it. My breath eased, but only for a second—because her hand didn’t stop.
If anything... it got faster.
Her fingers curled tighter around the base of my cock, palm sliding up and down with more pressure now, more intent. Still testing. Still watching.
I groaned.
Not out of pain this time—just the opposite.
My hips bucked slightly before I could stop them, and she caught the motion instantly. Her eyes narrowed. I watched her face closely—trying to read whatever alien thought process moved behind those gold irises.
Then, without a word, she shifted her grip—pulling my skin down slowly, peeling it away to fully expose the swollen head.
My breath caught.
Red. Sensitive. Glistening. A tiny thread of pre-cum leaked from the tip, catching the light like morning dew.
She tilted her head.
Her finger traced the drop, then circled the rim with the faintest brush. My thighs tensed.
She turned to me.
"Why isn’t something coming out of it?" she asked flatly, voice cool, curious. Scientific.
My mouth twitched. I hesitated—brain stalling between fear and lust and sheer disbelief.
Before I could give some lie or redirect her attention, I felt it.
Or maybe I realized it.
Her hand had returned to my balls.
But this time... not to hurt.
Not to tease.
She was studying.
Fingers roaming like a researcher dissecting a specimen, weighing them, shifting them slightly in her palm. A chill ran up my spine, not just from the touch, but from the realization that she was genuinely curious. Trying to understand how this... thing worked.
Her grip was light but unsettling. Because if she wanted to hurt me, she knew exactly where to strike now.
That made me speak. Quickly.
"I-It won’t come out just from your hand," I muttered, voice hoarse. "You... need to use your holes."
Her eyes narrowed.
She looked at my cock again. Then back at me.
My chest tightened. Her stare—sharp, dissecting—lingered just a little too long. My body stiffened, threatened by that silence. I rushed to explain.
"Your... mouth too. I mean—any hole. It needs, um... warmth. Pressure. Suction, sometimes..."
God.
What the hell was I saying?
Her fingers brushed her lips.
I watched her tongue flick out, moistening them instinctively—slow and thoughtless, like her body was reacting without her say. Her gaze drifted downward again. From my eyes... to my cock.
I swallowed hard.
She’ll leave now. Probably call me perverted and storm off.
That’s what I thought.
But she didn’t.
Instead...
She leaned.
Slowly. Purposefully.
Her long blonde hair slid over her shoulder like golden silk, strands swaying forward until they spilled over my crotch and thighs. I twitched.
Each strand was like a tiny tickle. A thousand little brushes across my skin. Across it.
Then her hair touched my abdomen—soft, warm, sending static up my nerves.
Her breath was next.
Hot.
Close.
My stomach tensed, breath hitched, a sharp inhale caught between need and fear and utter disbelief.
She was right there.
And I couldn’t move.
Her tongue touched the tip.
Just a flick—wet, curious, and shockingly warm.
My back arched before I could stop it, a sharp inhale tearing through my throat. "F-Fuck..."
Instinct took over. My hand slid into her hair, fingers trembling, guiding her down. Slowly. Gently. I didn’t even realize I was doing it until I felt the heat of her mouth hover just above the swollen head.
Then—contact.
Her lips parted. I felt her breath first, then the impossible heat of her mouth as she started to lower—
"Ahhh—Asperia..." I breathed, dizzy with anticipation, hips twitching up just slightly.
And then—
"GHRAAHHH!!"
Lightning shot through my nerves.
Her teeth.
Fucking teeth.
Clamped down hard on the most sensitive part of me.
Pain exploded, white and blinding. I screamed, body thrashing.
"I AM SORRY FOR LYING, ASPERIA!!!!! AARRGHHHHHG!"