As I stare at my overstuffed suitcase, trying to cram in one last t-shirt, Erica lounges on our bed, scrolling through her phone. We’re packing for a weekend getaway to Brooke’s beach house in Rhode Island, and I’m already stressing about forgetting sothing important.
“Wait, so in your world, Shinji ca on Asuka?” Erica suddenly pipes up, her blue eyes wide with disbelief.
Jesus take’s the wheel in my mind. “Did you know Asuka is a Chargers fan.”
Erica sigh’s with annoyance. “Yeah, yeah. Bolt up or whatever.”
(A/n: I am not a Chargers fan.)
She waives her hand dismissively. “Back to the cum.” She refocuses my thoughts.
I nod. “Yeah, it was super problematic. The whole scene was pretty ssed up.”
Erica lets out a low whistle, her blonde ponytail swishing as she shakes her head. “Damn, that’s so hot. Any girl would love that in this world. Or most would I think.” She pauses for a mont and collects her thoughts. “In this world, it’s way different. Asuka fingerblasted herself and squirted all over Shinji while he was at the hospital.”
I blink, trying to process this information. “That... actually makes sense, given how things work here.”
Erica grins, her teeth flashing white against her full lips. “Hell yeah, it does. Our Asuka’s a total badass. She knows what she wants and goes for it. Granted, in hindsight, everyone said what she did was sexual assault.”
I can’t help but chuckle, thinking about how different yet similar our worlds are. It’s been months since I arrived here, but the little surprises never seem to stop.
“So, you packed your swimsuit yet?” Erica asks, eyeing my suitcase skeptically. “Or are you planning on skinny dipping?”
I feel my face heat up. “Uh, yeah, it’s in there sowhere.” I frown, thinking about how it might not be warm enough to go swimming, though. In my world, April could be a little cold.
“Are you thinking about Riley again?” she asks, her blue eyes narrowing slightly.
I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “No. It’s been over a month. I’m over it.”
Erica raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. She saunters over, her hips swaying hypnotically. “You sure about that, Jason?”
As she looms over , I’m hit with a vivid flashback, Riley’s wide, terrified eyes, the sickening crunch as Erica’s knife connected. I shake my head, banishing the image.
“Seriously, I’m fine,” I insist. “Just excited for the beach trip.”
Erica’s hand cups my chin, forcing to et her gaze. Her touch is gentle, but there’s steel beneath it. “You know I won’t ever let anyone take you away from , right?”
I nod arousal coursing through . “I know, baby. I an... Mommy.”
Erica’s eyes light up at the term, and she rewards with a deep, possessive kiss that leaves breathless. When she pulls away, there’s a dangerous glint in her eye.
“Good boy,” she purrs. “Now finish packing. I want to get on the road before traffic gets bad.”
I grab my bag, hefting it off the bed with a grunt. “Ready,” I announce, trying to inject so enthusiasm into my voice.
Erica nods approvingly, her blonde ponytail swishing as she turns. “Let’s roll, babe.”
We make our way to the living room, where a cacophony of excited chatter greets us. Tara, Nikki, and Justine are sprawled across the plush leather sofas, surrounded by a small mountain of beach gear.
Tara’s electric blue hair streaks catch the light as she bounces up, grinning from ear to ear. “Finally! I thought you two lovebirds were gonna be at it all day.”
I feel annoyed, but Erica just smirks. “Patience, Tara. Good things co to those who wait.”
Nikki snorts, adjusting her baseball cap. “Yeah, well, so of us have been waiting long enough. I’m ready to hit the waves.”
Justine, ever the voice of reason, pipes up from her perch on the armrest. “First, we have to survive the drive. Did anyone rember to pack snacks?”
Erica, seemingly ignoring Justine, steps forward, her presence imdiately commanding the room’s attention. “Alright, ladies,” she announces, her voice carrying that edge of authority that never fails to send a shiver down my spine. “Is everyone ready to roll out?”
A chorus of enthusiastic “Yes!” fills the air.
As we step outside, the late afternoon sun bathes everything in a golden glow. I squint, montarily blinded, before my eyes adjust to reveal a sleek, midnight-black limousine parked in the driveway. The Knight family crest gleams on the door, a not-so-subtle reminder of Erica’s status.
“Whoa,” I breathe, unable to hide my awe. “That’s... sothing else.”
Alia, the Knight family’s ever-present maid, is efficiently loading our bags into the cavernous trunk. Her crisp uniform looks immaculate, nor a hair out of place in her neat bun.
“Hey, Alia,” I call out, approaching her. “You sure there’s enough space for all our stuff in there?”
She turns to with a serene smile. “Not to worry, Jason. I’ve got it all under control. I’ll be driving up separately in Miss Erica’s car.”
I blink in surprise. “Wait, really? Why’s that?”
Alia’s eyes flick briefly to Erica before answering. “Miss Erica prefers to have her personal vehicle available at all tis.”
Erica saunters up behind , wrapping a possessive arm around my waist. “What can I say?” she drawls. “I always like to have an escape plan for my favorite boy.”
I feel a flush of warmth at her words. “Right,” I nod, leaning into her embrace. “Always thinking ahead, aren’t you?”
She plants a kiss on my cheek, her lips curving into a smile against my skin. “You know it, babe.”
Tara’s voice cuts through the mont. “Yo, lovebirds! Are we hitting the road or what?”
Erica’s grip on tightens fractionally before she releases with a playful swat to my backside. “You heard the lady,” she grins. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
As we pile into the limo, I can’t help but feel a surge of excitent. Despite the lingering shadows of the past month, the promise of sun, sand, and ti with Erica stretches out before us like an open road. I settle into the plush leather seat, Erica’s hand finding mine as the engine purrs to life.
As the limo glides smoothly out of the driveway, the familiar streets of our neighborhood begin to blur past the tinted windows. The interior of the car is a cocoon of luxury, all soft leather and gleaming chro. I sink deeper into my seat, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to unwind.
Justine, ever the social butterfly, pipes up from her perch across from us. “Hey, who’s up for a ga? We’ve got a long drive ahead. Might as well make it fun!”
I feel a twinge of regret as I pat my pockets. “Ah, shit. I left my Switch in the trunk.”
Tara’s electric blue hair catches the light as she whips her head around, fixing with a skeptical glare. “Seriously? What kind of fake gar boy are you?”
I open my mouth to defend myself, but Nikki beats to it. “Hey, lay off. We all watched him play Dark Souls once, rember?”
Tara snorts, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, and he was awful. I bet it was all performative.”
I feel my face heating up, a mixture of embarrassnt and annoyance bubbling in my chest. But before I can retort, Erica’s arm snakes around my shoulders, pulling close.
“Oh please,” she drawls, her voice dripping with amusent. “Jason plays a ton of gas. It’s practically all he does when I’m not fucking him senseless.”
The car erupts in a chorus of hoots and whistles. I own that shit. I’m not so fake ass Gar boy.
I straighten up, feeling a surge of pride. “That’s right,” I declare, puffing out my chest slightly. “I’ve beaten every Soulsborne ga except Sekiro.”
The girls look suitably nonplussed. Justine gives an appreciative whistle. “Proud of you, Jay.”
I bask in the mont, feeling vindicated. But then Erica chis in, her voice tinged with amusent.
“Yeah, but he does fucking suck at video gas most of the ti. He can’t even play COD because he’s so fucking bad at playing the objective or getting kills. I think it’s his ADHD. It makes him unable to take in everything he’s seeing on screen.” Erica says in a mocking tone.
My face falls as Tara bursts out laughing, clutching her sides. Erica joins in, her laughter mingling with Tara’s. I feel my cheeks burning, annoyed at having my mont stolen.
“On God, keep this up, and I’ll start a Twitch channel,” I snap, glaring at Erica.
The effect is imdiate. Erica’s laughter cuts off abruptly, her eyes widening.
“Tara!” she yells, her voice sharp. “That’s enough. Leave Jason alone.”
Tara’s laughter dies in her throat, replaced by a look of confusion at Erica’s sudden change in deanor.
Erica turns to , her blue eyes softening with remorse. She leans in close, her breath warm against my ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” she whispers, her voice low and husky. “You know I love how passionate you are about your gas.”
Her fingers trace a gentle path along my jaw, sending shivers down my spine. I feel my annoyance lting away under her touch, replaced by a familiar warmth spreading through my chest. Without thinking, I close the distance between us, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss.
The world around us fades away as I lose myself in the softness of her lips, the taste of her lips with the faint hint of cigarettes. Erica’s hand slides to the back of my neck, pulling closer as she deepens the kiss.
From the corner of my eye, I vaguely register Tara rummaging through a hidden compartnt. She erges triumphantly, holding up two bottles of expensive-looking wine.
“Yo, is it cool if we get loaded on the way there?” Tara calls out, her voice tinged with excitent.
Without breaking our kiss, Erica gives a slight nod. She pulls away just long enough to murmur, “Pour us so, too,” before diving back in, her tongue teasing mine in a way that makes my toes curl.
The sound of a cork popping echoes through the limo as Tara eagerly opens the first bottle. The rich aroma of red wine fills the air.
As Erica and I continue our heated makeout session, I’m vaguely aware of Nikki and Justine launching into an animated discussion.
“I’m telling you, Yakub had to have been hung,” Nikki insists, gesticulating wildly with her wine glass. “You don’t create a whole race of people without so serious BDE.”
Justine scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Please. If anything, Yakub probably had a chode. It would explain all the overcompensating.”
“What? No way!” Nikki protests. “The dude was a genius. Geniuses always pack heat.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Justine retorts, her voice stern. “Intelligence has nothing to do with dick size. Besides, have you seen how short he was in all the depictions? And his five heads? Definitely chode territory.”
Their ridiculous argunt fades into the background as I lose myself in Erica’s kiss. Her lips are soft yet demanding, her tongue exploring my mouth with a possessiveness that makes my head spin. I feel her hand tighten on the back of my neck, pulling even closer.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Tara carefully placing our wine glasses in the cup holders beside us. She lingers a mont too long, her gaze fixed on the way Erica’s lips move against mine. A small sigh escapes her as she mutters, “Damn, I wish I could’ve brought Louis along. But no, he’s too busy with his two girlfriends.”
Her words barely register as Erica’s grip on intensifies. She pulls flush against her body, the heat between us growing more intense by the second. I’m vaguely aware of Tara’s eyes still on us, a mix of envy and admiration in her gaze.
“Get a room, you two!” Nikki calls out, montarily distracted from her Yakub debate.
Erica breaks the kiss just long enough to shoot Nikki a wicked grin. “We’ve got a whole limo. Deal with it.”
As our lips reconnect, I hear Justine groan. “Great, now we’re stuck watching softcore porn for the next three hours.”
As our kiss deepens, Erica’s hands begin to roam more boldly. Her fingers slip under the hem of my shirt, tracing fiery paths across my skin. I feel a jolt of electricity as she grazes my nipple, eliciting an involuntary gasp. Emboldened, Erica shifts her position, practically climbing into my lap. Her hips grind against mine in a slow, tantalizing rhythm that makes my head spin.
The air in the limo grows thick and heavy with the scent of arousal. Erica’s lips leave mine to trail hot kisses down my neck, nipping and sucking in a way that’s sure to leave marks. Her hand slides lower, palming through my jeans with increasing pressure. I can’t help the low moan that escapes , my hips bucking up into her touch.
Suddenly, I beco acutely aware of our audience. Tara’s eyes are wide, her cheeks flushed as she watches us intently. Nikki and Justine have abandoned their debate, their gazes fixed on the show we’re putting on. Even the driver seems to be stealing glances in the rearview mirror.
Embarrassnt floods through , breaking through the haze of lust. I pull away abruptly, my face burning hot enough to fry an egg.
Erica gives a sultry frown, her blue eyes dark with desire. “Aww, why’d you stop, baby?” she purrs, her voice husky. “It took way longer for you to get embarrassed than it used to.”
I sigh, running a hand through my disheveled hair. “I’m turning into a degenerate,” I mutter, unable to et anyone’s eyes.
Erica nods, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She grabs my chin, forcing to look at her. “My degenerate,” she says possessively, her tone sending a shiver down my spine.
Desperate to change the subject, I clear my throat. “So, uh... Yakub?”
Nikki perks up imdiately. “Oh yeah! I was saying Yakub had to have been hung.”
Justine rolls her eyes. “And I maintain that he probably had a chode.”
I clear my throat, ready to unleash my carefully constructed argunt. “Look, Yakub was a man of science. If you can create white people, he probably had a long schlong that he made himself. I an, think about it, a genius who can manipulate genetics? He’d definitely upgrade his own equipnt.”
The limo falls silent as everyone considers this perspective. Tara’s eyes widen, probably impressed by my logic. Nikki nods vigorously, raising her wine glass in a mock toast.
But Justine isn’t backing down. She leans forward, her green eyes cold and emotionless. “Explain the forehead then, Jason,” she counters, her voice dripping with disdain. “If he was so good at genetic manipulation, why’d he leave himself with that do? Checkmate.” She motions a chess piece being nocked over.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing cos out. My words catch in my throat as the full weight of her argunt hits . The silence in the limo grows heavy as everyone waits for my rebuttal. But I’ve got nothing. My mind races, searching for a counterargunt, but cos up empty.
“I can’t...” I finally admit, slumping back in my seat, utterly defeated.
Tara bursts into laughter, the sound filling the limo. “Fuck, is this how lunch goes every day?” she asks between gasps for air.
Erica’s eyes narrow in annoyance. “It’s exactly this. Every. Fucking. Day. Non-stop,” she growls, pinching the bridge of her nose.
I try to ignore her exasperation, still reeling from my debate loss. As the weight of my defeat settles over , I reach for my wine glass, desperate for a distraction. Without hesitation, I tip the glass back and start chugging.
I gulp greedily, barely pausing for breath as the wine finds a warm path down my throat and settles in my stomach like liquid courage.
As I drain the last drops from my glass, I lower it with a satisfied gasp. The world feels softer now, my embarrassnt slowly fading into a pleasant buzz that tingles through my limbs. I turn to Erica, admiring how the light catches the golden highlights in her hair, making it look like spun silk. Her blue eyes sparkle with amusent as she watches , one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in silent question.
“I wish I just kept making out with Erica in hindsight,” I mutter.
Erica’s lips curve into a predatory smile, her gaze intensifying in a way that makes my heart race. She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear as she whispers, “That can be arranged.”
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