A wet sound echoed in his ears. Leon pulled the small body close against him and twisted his head to devour even more of her. The woman’s shirt rolled up as his rough hands caressed her soft back. Tremors spread wherever they touched. Feeling her skin burning with heat, his eyes contorted like he was in pain.
Why is she so sweet?
The woman tasted delicious. It was crudely put, but no other description came to mind. He wanted to lick up every last drop of her. Her taste, scent, and touch were all so sweet that it made his heart ache. For Leon, who had never once been consumed by sexual desire, this was nothing short of absurd.
He ravaged the woman who was gasping for breath, stirring her up and digging into her very core without mercy. He thrust his tongue deep inside and drank in her moans.
“Ah, it hurts… it feels strange…”
Her whimpered cries with each stroke across the roof of her mouth drove him mad. A chill ran down his spine.
More. I won’t hurt you, so let me taste you just once more.
Now it was he who was begging, not her. His rational mind had snapped the moment she awkwardly pushed her tongue inside his mouth. Still, this was a woman who had just barely reached adulthood.
“…This is insane,” he murmured, barely managing to pull his lips away from her tender flesh. A helpless laugh escaped him. Below, he was already rock hard.
In this world, there were poisons sweet enough to melt one’s tongue. He was old enough to know this, but she was not. That was why he had to stop.
He propped himself up on his arms as he steadied his low, rough breathing. They were close enough that their breaths intertwined. Her dilated pupils stared directly at him from just inches away. He felt like he was losing his mind. By now, he was probably looking at her the same way—like a desperate beast ready to tear at her throat. Leon let out a sigh without meaning to.
The cold winter air scattered his white breath between them. The following silence felt like it would never end. It felt similar to being intoxicated by a potent drug, in the sense that he was oscillating between limitless pleasure and bottomless despair. He never thought that the union between completely different beings—human and Bahamut—would create such an attraction. After all, he’d never touched one before.
The woman was dangerous, in more ways than one.
Leon quietly gazed at her lips, which were glistening with saliva, then smiled wryly.
“…Why are you smiling?” Veronica asked with a slackened face.
“No reason,” he answered, while wiping the saliva from her lips with his thumb. “Just thinking your life seems destined for hardship.”
How did she end up with only two choices—death or sharing breath with a strange man? They say God gave trials to those He loved, but this was too much for someone who had just become an adult.
“Are you still thirsty?” he asked.
Veronica stared at him blankly before shaking her head slightly.
Right. She’s fine now. I wonder if she’ll even remember this when she wakes up tomorrow.
He gazed at her cheeks, flushed pink with heat. Her slender neck, exposed in the air, looked soft and fragile. The moment he realized he wanted to touch it, his mood sank. He was no better than a dog in heat. After this moment of self-awareness, Leon raised himself to leave her side.
“Don’t go,” she said quickly, grabbing his clothes again.
Leon froze.
“Don’t leave me alone,” she repeated.
His Adam’s apple slowly bobbed up and down at her desperate plea. There was something strangely infuriating about this woman.
After a moment of stillness, his hand, calloused from wielding a sword, slowly rose to stroke the skin around her reddened eyes.
“I won’t leave,” he murmured in a low voice, looking at her like he was looking at some tragic past.
There was only one sleeping bag for camping, just big enough for two if they pressed close together. He had absolutely no intention of lying next to the woman. He had never once doubted his self-restraint or patience, but tonight was different. So instead, he watched over Veronica until she closed her eyes and her breathing became even, then rose from his spot. He threw firewood into the campfire and tilted his head back as if suppressing something. A long breath escaped between his parted lips.
It was dangerous for a thirsty person to taste even a drop of wine. The peril wasn’t in the single drop they’d tasted, but in the thirst that followed.
It was a pitch-black night without even the moon in sight.