"Young Lord, are you alright?"
Ermond’s voice cut through the night air, sharp with barely concealed fury. The butler arrived at a near-sprint, several guards flanking him like shadows given form.
They moved with military precision, cuffing Ryken’s unconscious body while Ermond bowed deeply—his posture impeccable, but his knuckles white against his thighs.
He knew. They all knew.
This entire event had targeted Cruxius.
"Yes, I just need to rest. Handle the dia narrative. And make sure we get ten tis the compensation from the Hero Association," Cruxius said with a calm nod, allowing himself to be slowly guided away by both Ytrisia and Darithi.
He intended to milk the sympathy from Volta while acting injured for a few days—just enough to keep her close and make her fall completely.
"...I will definitely make sure of it," Ermond replied with a cold gaze as he bowed again. He understood one thing clearly—this wasn’t the end.
The heir of the Blac Corporation had been hard. Forget the Hero Association—even the governnt would have to pay.
"Can you give our relationship another chance, Ytrisia?"
Cruxius’s voice was rough, yet carefully soft—just loud enough for her alone to hear as they moved down the quiet corridor of the mansion.
The light above glimred off polished marble, but all he saw was her. He leaned into Volta, letting the weight of his body sink into her slender fra.
Darithi followed silently four steps behind, too far to interrupt, close enough to witness.
"...Okay..."
Her voice—Gods, her voice—wasn’t just an answer.
It was surrender wrapped in silk. Barely audible. Fragile. Like snow drifting onto warm skin.
She didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. Her eyes were lowered, lashes trembling, as if afraid of what she was agreeing to.
But it was enough.
Enough to feel her break, just a little, for him.
Cruxius hid his grin, but inside, satisfaction blood dark and fast.
’Good... now I just have to play this right. One night under the stars, acting guilty for what I did—and it’s a clean jump from S to S . Simple.’
Though his senses seed distracted—maybe even going crazy.
But it wasn’t her words that drove him crazy—it was everything else.
The soft, barely-there floral scent of her shampoo, sothing faintly like jasmine and warmth, made his chest feel too tight.
Her hair brushed against his neck as she kept her head close—like strands of silk dragging along his skin.
Then there were her breasts—full, perfectly shaped, quite big, pushed against him under that skin-tight latex.
The heat of them radiated through the suit, their softness undeniable.
Each step made them shift slightly against his chest, her nipples brushing the fabric and pressing into him just enough to tempt.
They weren’t just touching—they were yielding against his firm body, like she subconsciously leaned in closer the more she tried not to.
Her hand on his chest, delicate fingers splayed wide to support him, was a whole other tornt.
Slim, elegant fingers that trembled faintly—whether from restraint or emotion, he didn’t care.
Her palm rested right over his heart, but the way her thumb moved ever so slightly... it wasn’t just support.
It was too sensually arousing.
Maybe it was because he knew her future self—cold and always filled with hatred toward him.
That contrast awakened sothing sadistic in him.
Both of them had shared a hateful relationship in their past lives, born of being a supervillain and a superhero, and their past sour relationship made it worse.
Everything had been a ss.
And now, feeling her this close—unaware of that hatred—just filled him with arousal.
He could feel her pulse through her hand, just as he was sure she felt the hard beat of his beneath her touch.
And if Cruxius had his way tonight, she wouldn’t be wearing that damn suit by the ti the sun ca out.
"Wait, let open the room," ca the voice, pulling him out of his thoughts as Darithi stepped forward.
Ytrisia—or, Volta—was still supporting him. In that fleeting mont, sothing crossed his mind. He stood there, watching as the doors to the room slid open.
’Shit!’
He—yelling wildly—swiftly tried to hug Volta, thinking to stop her from witnessing the ss inside, which he had almost forgotten about, entangled in these emotions.
But it seed Ytrisia was far more prepared than before—not ready to get kissed by him like last ti.
She reflexively dodged his hug by leaning down and passing through his side.
"W-wait," Cruxius stumbled forward. Given his leg injury, he was about to fall.
"S-sorry, I did it again on a whim," Ytrisia muttered as she swiftly supported him and realized her mistake due to instinct—just like when he kissed her—she wrapped her hand around him again, helping him up.
The door slid open.
And there she was.
A woman. Naked. Sprawled across his bed like a painting of debauchery that should’ve been hidden away.
She lay on her back, completely exposed under the moonlight streaming through the balcony. One arm was tossed carelessly above her head, fingers curled loosely against the pillow.
The other draped across her chest in a failed attempt at modesty—her hand barely covering one breast while the other spilled free, nipple dark and still faintly swollen from being sucked.
Her legs were spread. Not wide, but enough. One dangled off the edge of the bed, toes pointing toward the floor, thigh glistening with dried fluids that caught the light.
The other was bent at the knee, falling open to reveal everything between them.
Her pussy was a ss.
Swollen. Red. Clearly used. Her labia were puffy and parted slightly, still gaping from being stretched around his cock hours ago.
Cum—thick, white, unmistakable—leaked slowly from her entrance, trailing down to stain the sheets beneath her in a wet, sticky puddle that had spread wide.
The remnants of her torn hyn mixed with it—faint streaks of dried blood sared across her inner thighs like evidence of innocence lost.
A blanket clung uselessly to one thigh, tangled and forgotten, as if it had tried to cover her but given up halfway through.
The sheets were a disaster. Wrinkled. Stained. Reeking of sex. Dark wet spots marked where she’d squirted, where he’d cum, where their bodies had collided over and over until neither could move anymore.
Her breasts rose and fell gently with her breathing—full, soft, covered in hickeys that blood across pale skin like bruises.
Red marks dotted her neck, her collarbone, the curve of her waist where his hands had gripped too hard.
Strands of dark hair clung to her flushed cheeks, damp with sweat. Her lips were parted, slightly swollen from being kissed—or bitten—too roughly.
A faint line of drool trailed from the corner of her mouth to the pillow.
She looked thoroughly fucked.
Used. Exhausted. Satisfied in the way only a virgin experiencing her first ti could be—overwheld, broken open, reshaped by pleasure she didn’t know existed.
One of Cruxius’s socks lay abandoned on the floor near the nightstand like it had given up trying to stay part of the situation.
The pungent sll of sex hung heavy in the air—salt and musk and sothing sweeter, sothing uniquely feminine, mixing with the faint scent of expensive cologne still clinging to the sheets.
It was undeniable.
Impossible to misinterpret.
Volta froze mid-step. Her eyes went wide—pupils dilating as her brain processed what she was seeing—then narrowed into slits of pure, simring disappointnt.
’Curse this’, Cruxius realized his own situation and luck, which, as usual, were ssed up.
"Wait, Volta—!"
She dropped him.
Literally.
Without a word, her arm slid out from under his, and he lost balance completely. His leg, still sore, gave out beneath him.
Thud!
"Urgh!" He groaned to gain so sympathy, face-first on the floor. The pain shot up his side, but it wasn’t half as bad as the silence that followed.
Slowly, he looked up.
Volta was just standing there. Looking down at him.
Not angry.
Not shocked.
Just... disappointed.
Like he was a soggy tissue soone forgot to throw out. Her arms crossed over her chest, one brow raised, lips pulled into a tight, judgntal line.
She shook her head and muttered with the weight of a tired sigh,
"...You dirty dog."
Then turned and walked off without another word.
DING!
Emotional Failure Detected
Initiating Downgrade Protocol...
[ Kino Control: Rank S ⟹ A ⟹ B ⟹ C ⟹ C ]
"Sigh..."
Cruxius groaned and let his head fall back to the floor, clearly seeing that he suffered a very big loss.
’....Should I just kill myself?’
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