It didn’t. Not with her hands sliding into my hair, not with the taste of her Essentia filling up, not with the way her body fit against mine like she’d been designed to end up exactly here.
I stood, lifting her with and turning to set her on the examination table. She went willingly, wrapping her legs around my waist to keep close.
"Show what else it can do," she said, shrugging out of the lab coat. Beneath it, her arms were fully visible, the glowing red lines tracing patterns from her wrists to her shoulders like beautiful, burning circuitry.
I ran my hands along those lines, feeling the heat pulse beneath my fingers. "These are Root-Type modifications?"
"Yes." She arched into my touch. "They enhance my thermal regulation ability. Allow to channel heat more precisely."
I leaned down to press my mouth against one of the glowing lines on her collarbone. Her skin burned against my lips, but not painfully—more like kissing a sun-ward stone.
She made a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, her hands clutching at my shoulders. "The drain feels different now," she said, her voice unsteady. "More... reciprocal."
She was right. Sothing had shifted in the connection between us. Instead of just pulling her Essentia into , it was cycling back to her, enhanced and amplified. The circuit had beco more balanced, feeding both of us simultaneously.
"That’s rare," I said, genuinely surprised. "It usually only happens with—"
I stopped myself, but she caught it.
"With what?" Her eyes were sharp despite the heat between us.
"With compatibility," I finished reluctantly. "When there’s genuine resonance between both sides."
Sothing like triumph flashed across her face. "I suspected as much. The ancient texts ntioned it—drain connections that enhanced both participants rather than depleting one to feed the other."
"Ancient texts?"
She kissed again instead of answering, her mouth hot and demanding against mine. Her hands traced the muscles of my chest, nails scraping lightly across my skin.
"Take off your pants," she said against my lips.
"What happened to scientific inquiry?"
"We’re still inquiring." Her hand slid down to press against the front of my pants, where my body had made its interest extrely clear. "Just more practically now."
I should have stopped. Should have rembered she was my professor. Should have thought about the complications this would add to an already chaotic situation.
Instead, I unbuckled my belt.
Reeves—Laurana—watched with undisguised interest as I removed my pants, her eyes darkening when she saw I wore nothing underneath.
"Efficient," she comnted, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
She pulled her tank top over her head in one smooth motion, revealing a black sports bra that hugged curves more generous than her professional attire had suggested. The red lines continued across her chest and abdon, creating patterns like artful scarification that glowed with internal light.
I traced one that curved under her breast. "These are beautiful."
"They’re functional," she corrected, but I caught the pleasure in her voice. "Most Root-Type modifications are considered unsightly."
"Most Root-Types don’t look like living art."
She laughed, that genuine sound that transford her face from rely beautiful to sothing else entirely. "You’re good at this."
"At what?"
"Saying exactly what people want to hear." She pulled closer, hooking her ankles behind my thighs. "Is that part of the ability too? Reading desires?"
"No. That’s just paying attention."
She humd thoughtfully, then reached behind herself to unhook her bra. It fell away, revealing small, perfect breasts with dusky pink nipples that hardened in the cool air of the lab.
The red lines traced around her nipples in concentric circles, pulsing with her heartbeat. I couldn’t resist touching them, running my thumbs over the sensitive peaks and watching as the glow intensified with her arousal.
"Fascinating reaction," I murmured, mimicking her clinical tone.
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you mocking ?"
"Definitely."
Her laugh was cut short as I bent to take one nipple into my mouth. The heat from her skin was even more intense here, like tasting fire without being burned. She arched into the contact, her hand coming up to grip the back of my neck.
The drain pulsed between us, widening and narrowing with her pleasure, pulling her Essentia into in waves that matched her breathing. I could feel her power now—raw and elental, the ability to create and control heat at a molecular level.
"I want to try sothing," she said, pulling away slightly. "A theory about the drain’s connection to physical pleasure."
She pushed back, sliding off the table to kneel in front of . The sight of Professor Reeves on her knees, those ruby eyes looking up at , her scarlet hair falling around her bare shoulders—it was enough to make my breath catch.
"This is definitely not in any research protocol I’ve ever heard of," I managed.
"I’m innovating," she replied, and then she took into her mouth.
The world went white. The drain exploded open, pulling her Essentia into with such force that my knees nearly buckled. She made a startled sound around , her hands gripping my thighs as the connection flared between us.
Every nerve ending in my body lit up at once. The stimulant in my bloodstream amplified everything to almost unbearable levels of sensation. I could taste her Essentia, feel the heat of her mouth, see the red lines on her skin pulsing with the rhythm of her heartbeat, all simultaneously.
"Stop," I gasped, pulling away. "It’s too much."
She released , looking up with genuine curiosity. "What happened?"
"Overstimulation." I dragged in a ragged breath. "The drain, plus the drug, plus... that. It’s like trying to drink from a fire hose."
She stood, her expression caught between concern and fascination. "I didn’t anticipate that level of response."
"Neither did I." I pulled her against , needing the contact despite the overwhelming sensation. "But I don’t want to stop."
"Good." She kissed again, slower this ti. "Because I have more theories to test."
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