Chapter 95: The First Rule of Fight Club is No Touching
Holy shit.
Every nerve ending in my body woke up at once. The cotton of my shirt dragged against my skin like it was alive, each fiber a tiny finger stroking across my chest. The air from the vent above beca a lover’s breath on my neck. I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips, my ears, my groin. Each pulse sent a ripple of awareness through my body.
Natalia wasn’t hiding it well either. A visible shudder ran through her fra as she leaned against the door. A deep flush spread up from her chest, painting her pale skin with splotches of pink that crept up her neck to her cheeks. Her eyes were black pools, pupils so dilated that only the thinnest ring of blue remained. And her nipples—fuck—they pushed against the black silk of her camisole like they were trying to tear through the fabric, two hard points begging for attention.
"Starting to feel it?" I asked, my voice rougher than I intended, the words scraping against my throat like sandpaper.
Natalia swallowed hard, the delicate column of her throat working visibly. "It’s... intense." The word hung between us, heavy with implication.
I blinked, and suddenly there was soone else in the room.
Floating just above Natalia’s left shoulder was a tiny, shimring woman no bigger than my hand. Translucent wings beat silently behind her back as she hovered, arms crossed under a pair of impossible breasts barely contained by wisps of gossar fabric. Her hair flowed around her like liquid rose gold, cascading in perfect curls, and her eyes—sharp, knowing, ancient—fixed on
with wicked amusent.
Oh, look at this one, she whispered directly into my mind, her voice like honey dripping on silk, bypassing my ears entirely. So proud. So tight. This will be fun. Are you ready to play, my new champion?
I stared at the apparition for a solid three seconds before rembering the warning on the pill description with crystal clarity.
Visions of the goddess Aphrodite offering unsolicited relationship advice.
Fantastic. I’m hallucinating a horny fairy godmother. Just what I needed when my self-control was already hanging by a thread.
I forced my attention back to Natalia, who was staring at
with a mixture of confusion and raw, undisguised arousal.
"Six hours," I said, my voice a low rumble that seed to vibrate through the air between us, almost tangible in its intensity. "No touching. First one to break loses."
I moved to my bed and sat on the edge, the sheets rustling beneath
with a sound that seed abnormally loud in the quiet room, each fiber of cotton whispering against my hypersensitive skin. I gestured to the chair at my desk, a few feet away.
"Make yourself comfortable, Princess."
Natalia pushed off from the door, gathering herself. The simple act of walking across the room seed to torture her. Each step made the silk camisole shift against her skin, fabric sliding over heightened nerve endings, and I could see her flinch with every movent, every muscle tense with restraint.
She’s fighting it so hard, Aphrodite whispered, floating to follow Natalia like a mischievous shadow. I like this one. The willful ones are always the most satisfying to break.
Natalia sat in the chair, perching on the edge like she might need to bolt at any mont. Her thighs pressed together, squeezing rhythmically in a desperate attempt to alleviate the building pressure. One of her hands gripped the chair arm so tightly her knuckles had gone white, tendons standing out like cords.
The silence stretched between us, taut and dangerous as a tripwire.
I reached for my phone, desperate for so distraction from the exquisite torture of proximity without contact. "Let’s see what’s trending." My voice sounded strange to my own ears, too deep, too husky, almost unrecognizable.
I angled the screen so she could see it, then pulled up a highlight reel of so A-Rank Hunter’s latest Gate clear. The video played, showing slow-motion captures of the Hunter dodging attacks from a Skittering Horror, his Aspect manifesting as golden chains that bound the creature in a dazzling display of power and precision.
But I wasn’t watching the video. I was watching her, morizing every microexpression that crossed her flushed face.
Natalia’s eyes weren’t on the screen. They were fixed on my hand, on the flex of my thumb as I scrolled, on the blue vein visible at my wrist. Her gaze traveled up my arm with predatory intensity, lingering on the curve of my bicep beneath my t-shirt sleeve as though she could see through the fabric to the muscle beneath.
Boring! Aphrodite floated in front of my face, blocking my view of Natalia with a petulant flutter of wings. She wants you to touch her. Look at her, she’s practically vibrating with need. Are you just going to sit there, or are you going to be a man? A god? Take what’s yours!
I waved my hand through the apparition, trying to dispel her. She simply giggled—a sound like tiny silver bells—and floated to the side, leaving a trail of sparkling dust that dissolved before hitting the floor.
I looked up from my phone, my eyes locking with Natalia’s in a gaze that felt more intimate than a touch. I gave her a slow, predatory smirk. "Find sothing interesting, Princess?"
Her blush deepened, spreading down past the neckline of her camisole like wildfire. She looked away, breaking eye contact first.
Round one to .
"Nothing in particular," she lied, her voice strained. "How about you? Seeing anything... unusual?"
The question had an odd emphasis, heavy with unspoken aning. Could she see Aphrodite too? Was she experiencing her own hallucination?
"Just the usual," I replied carefully, watching her reaction. "Why? Are you?"
Natalia shook her head, a little too quickly, hair sliding across her shoulders. "No. Nothing."
She uncrossed and recrossed her legs, the movent causing the silk shorts to ride up higher on her thighs, revealing an expanse of creamy skin that made my mouth go dry. I fought to keep my eyes on her face, but the pill made my gaze hungry, desperate to devour every inch of exposed skin, to morize the contours of her body.
"This is absurd," Natalia suddenly burst out, frustration cracking her composure. "We’re just going to sit here for six hours?"
I shrugged, the motion sending ripples of sensation across my shoulders like electricity. "Unless you want to admit defeat now."
Her eyes narrowed. "Never."
Oh, she’s a stubborn one, Aphrodite whispered, now hovering directly behind Natalia’s head like a dented halo, her tiny hands playing with strands of Natalia’s hair. I approve. The stubborn ones always break the hardest. And when they do—oh, the sweetness of that surrender!
"Then yes," I said, settling back slightly, every movent a new symphony of sensation. "We sit here. We talk. We wait. And we see who breaks first."
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