Chapter 16

“Have you never touched yourself before?”

“Of... Of course I have!”

Lieutenant Erabelle Vermilion insisted with desperate indignation that she was old enough to know better.

“...”

Commander Dezeb Avganis pressed a finger firm and deep inside her. Erabelle’s breath hitched instantly.

Instinctively, her hips bucked back, her torso tilting forward, but he dragged her back with effortless strength.

Erabelle flailed, trembling uncontrollably. Her jaw clenched tight, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

Then, whimpering like a snared bird, she broke into a soft, shattered cry.

“It goes pretty deep, doesn’t it?”

He pushed a second finger in. Erabelle tried to kick herself free, but Dezeb wrapped an arm around her midsection, pinning her motionless.

“...Ah!!”

Her body twisted and jerked in his hold.

“Have you ever been taken this far before?”

She gave no answer, weeping quietly, slumped and lifeless against him.

Apparently not. Dezeb pressed a few light, tender kisses against her limp lips.

“Come on. Let’s get you onto the bed.”

His tone was almost cheerful as he helped her up.

“...Sniff, hic...”

Erabelle crawled onto the mattress on all fours, still sobbing. Her pants hung half-dragged down her hips as she shuddered and awkwardly scrambled across the sheets.

She lay there, clumsily tugging at her trousers—unable to pull them back up, yet helpless to strip them off completely—doing precisely what she was told.

“You need to take your clothes off, Erabelle.”

After catching her breath for a ragged second, she carefully gave his body a wide berth, hastily shedding her pants and top.

Her fingertips shook, yet she didn't hesitate. She didn't even dare to breathe as she obeyed his command.

He raised an eyebrow, watching her. She’s certainly compliant now. I suppose my hand touching her earlier rattled her more than I thought.

A soft, amused smile touched his lips.

This is tough, but we’re both trying. It’ll be fine.

He gently patted Erabelle, who was gripping the sheets so tightly her knuckles shone stark white, and spoke in a low voice.

“I told you I didn’t want to use sedatives—can you just lie still?”

“...What?”

Dezeb tugged down the waistband of her undergarments.

“You said no sedatives.”

“I-I know, but... don’t you think sedatives might actually be necessary...?”

Erabelle’s expression turned deadpan and deadly serious as her gaze locked onto that part of him.

Dezeb let out a small, quiet laugh that shook his chest.

“It’s taking everything I have not to laugh out loud right now...”

But she wasn’t joking. Her face was bloodless, her entire frame taut with terrifying conviction.

“I-I mean it!”

Yeah, she’s completely serious.

“Or you could just knock me out with one punch...”

“Ah, so I should knock out a lieutenant and have my way with her unconscious body? Flawless strategy.”

Erabelle blinked, looking genuinely lost. Between her and the Dogs, sometimes I think I’m the only sane person in this place. Dezeb exhaled, shifting his weight slightly—

“...Nngh, uh...!”

A feverish red flushed her face, her body already quivering.

Saliva flooded her mouth. The tip of Dezeb’s tongue ran slowly along the inside of his cheek.

Her skin feels so soft... like I could sink my teeth right into her.

When he shifted again, Erabelle’s eyes flew wide.

Her leg twitched—floundering, gasping, her whole body writhing—before she suddenly burst into violent thrashing.

“Nh—!!”

Dezeb pressed his thumb firmly into the subtle curve of her lower abdomen, tracing slow, deliberate circles.

A heavy, liquid heat pooled behind his eyes, dulling his gaze into something dark and lazy.

“I said, hold still.”

“...Uhh...”

He watched her dazed expression for a brief moment, then slid his palm in slow, deliberate strokes up and down the soft swell of her belly.

That strange, teasing caress made Erabelle’s eyes snap open once more.

Her pupils dilated, her entire frame locking up—breath catching, muscles seizing. As if set ablaze, her skin flushed crimson in an instant, a shudder running down to her curled fingertips.

Then, with a ragged cry, she—

Dezeb let her ride out the climax in silence.

“H-hah, hic—!”

He waited patiently as she panted in shuddering, uneven gasps, before murmuring:

“See? You can handle it.”

The pheromonal surge between Adaptants acted like a potent aphrodisiac—far more dangerous than any drug, yet lacking any of the toxic downsides. She was going to enjoy tonight far more than she anticipated.

“Erabelle.”

The moment he uttered her name, her body coiled tightly around him.

“There’s something I need to tell you first.”

His voice remained steady as one hand stroked her soothingly.

Her whole body burned with feverish warmth—especially deep inside. And, inevitably, so did his.

“...S-something’s... w-wrong... this is... wrong...”

I know. Dezeb waited, smoothing his palm over her quaking skin, giving her time to settle.

Yet she couldn’t calm down. For a split second, Dezeb’s vision blurred before snapping back into focus. He savored the taste of his compatible partner lingering on his tongue as he resumed his gentle caresses, slowly easing back into the rhythm.

“Erabelle?”

He gently brushed aside sweat-matted strands of hair clinging to her ear. When her unfocused brown eyes finally found his, he continued:

“You already know this, but since I’m an AT-type, things could get dangerous if you resist too hard. If you’re struggling, use your words. Tell me what’s wrong—if something hurts, or if you can’t breathe. Don’t just push me away.”

If he pulled too hard, he might tear her ligaments. If he grabbed a joint while she was thrashing against him, he could snap it.

And if luck wasn't on her side, it could be a critical one.

High-level physiques could regenerate easily—but Erabelle possessed the fragile constitution of a baseline human.

At his warning, she clenched around him hard.

Dezeb caught her jaw, forcing her gaze back to his. A raised brow framed her flickering, unfocused pupils.

“Understand?”

“S-something’s—wrong... c-can’t—...breathe... oxygen low—”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter when she immediately gulped down the instruction as if it were gospel.

“Ahnng—kh—!”

Erabelle keened again, the sound devolving into what sounded like a frantic countdown—some regional dialect, perhaps, though the cadence was too rhythmic to be random.

Strange little thing.

Despite her sobbing, her body radiated intense heat. Dezeb kept his pace strictly controlled.

He wanted—tried—to be good to her. To give her a gentle night. At least for a little while. And if he couldn’t... well.

She babbled choked apologies, legs twitching in a futile effort to push him away. None of it was coherent—nor effective.

“P-please—...h-hurts—”

“It shouldn’t hurt that much.”

He kissed the protest right off her lips, murmuring against them. We’re Adaptants.

She writhed anyway, fists and heels scrambling uselessly against the bedding.

“P-please—...I’m—...useful—”

“You’re making me sound like a monster. You agreed to this.”

Her tear-glazed eyes locked onto him, shining with betrayal.

“This is why I suggested sedatives.”

He smirked, licking the moisture from his own bottom lip.

Erabelle’s face crumpled completely.

“...W-water...”

Her fingers clawed blindly at the sheets—wrinkled and damp with sweat.

Fourteen thousand and something... Had she been counting? Her throat was parched, burning like ash.

A large, warm hand closed over her fumbling fingers.

Erabelle jolted, a sob hiccuping from her chest. Oh. I was crying.

“Did you take another stabilizer? You didn’t need to.”

“...Please... spare me...”