CHAPTER 110: FIRST CONTACT!

’Time for some actual fun.’

Rae snickered like a pervy villain from a low-budget harem anime and crab-walked his way toward her head.

She could hear the skin-on-cotton friction as his bare ass scooted across the sheets.

She didn’t dare peek.

Her arm stayed firmly across her eyes like a safety seal.

One, because she knew he was naked.

And two, because she knew she couldn’t unsee that monster again, the veiny demon she accidentally locked eyes with last week.

Back then, she was bold. She was the confident one. She let him grab her butt.

She even said the words, "Go ahead, squeeze it. I won’t tell."

But now?

Now she was the one covering her eyes like a Victorian maiden.

Now he was the smug one, the confident bastard with the sleepy smile and the sin-stick hanging between his legs like a war trophy.

It was ridiculous. A full role-reversal.

An anime-level stupidity arc. But it happened.

Then—his hands.

They landed on her shoulders.

She tensed up like a drawn bowstring, waiting for the groping, the giggling. But no.

It was... normal. Firm. Focused.

Like an actual massage.

’Wait... did this bastard get good? What the hell?’

She blinked under her forearm, suspicious.

Here she was, lying down for a supposed "power-unlocking" massage, fully expecting a sleazy excuse for dry-humping, and now she was getting legitimate pressure point work on her shoulders?

’H-he isn’t playing, right?’

That was the only thing Lyra could think, over and over again, like a broken mantra of denial.

Each time Rae’s hands kneaded into her shoulders, she felt... relief. Actual relief.

But paired with it came a growing, paralyzing fear—like sitting in a calm ocean knowing there’s a horny sea monster just beneath the surface.

’Is it because I scolded him earlier?’

’No... no, he doesn’t sulk. He’s the type to smirk and whip it out anyway.’

She gulped. Her lips were dry. Her kitty wasn’t.

Something was about to go wrong. She could feel it. She knew it.

’I-I just hope this lasts a bit longer...’

But of course, of course, that was never going to happen. Not when Rae was around.

’Heh... poor Lyra thinks she’s getting a professional spa day.’

Little did she know, Rae was right above her head, squatted like a smug goblin overlord, his half-awake beast dangling low like a sinister pendulum of doom.

The tip of his not-so-sleepy corn was barely a few centimeters from her unsuspecting cherry lips.

One miscalculated squat, one wrong breath—

Dong. Right on the face.

Game over.

’Time to level up.’

Rae grinned to himself and got to work.

He shifted his hands, fingers gliding down from her shoulders to the sides of her neck.

Smooth, skilled, and just a bit too close to her collarbones.

Then he slid further—

Right past the glorious twin peaks, grazing them just enough to make her twitch.

She bit her lip.

He moved lower.

Past the ribs.

To her soft stomach.

To her belly button.

Her abs clenched.

Her teeth ground together.

One leg kicked out like she was rebooting.

Rae bit his lip as he leaned a little closer, so close she could hear the smug in his breathing.

His oily hands glided lower, slow like molasses on a mission.

Down her belly, slithering under the towel like they belonged there.

Her eyes flew open. Her jaw dropped.

Her breath stuttered like a broken fan.

’What the fuck! WHAT the fuck! He isn’t—no. No. He’s not gonna—!’

Her whole body went DEFCON 1.

Nerves flared, heartbeat climbing like a monkey on crack. His hands crept lower, so close to her sacred zone that even her soul clenched.

And then—

Detour.

His hands split and slid to her sides, fingers drifting smoothly toward her thighs like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just flirted with her holy grail.

She exhaled so hard she might’ve lost a lung.

’Phew. I thought—’

"HANG~~"

Electricity shot through her spine as Rae’s finger came out of nowhere and flicked her nipple like it owed him money.

Her whole body jumped. She slapped both arms across her chest like she was guarding national treasure.

Both arms.

Even the one that had, unintentionally, been shielding her from the throbbing monster crouched overhead.

Which meant...

When she cracked one eye open to scold him, to throw a pillow, to scream into the void—

She was met with it.

The Beast.

Veiny. Smirking. Pulsating.

Crowned in throbs like some unholy king of chaos, looming right above her lips.

It was so close, it cast a shadow on her face.

And it twitched.

’Oh no.’

Her pupils shrank.

Her lips trembled.

Her sanity packed a bag and quietly left the room.

It was waiting.

For a move.

Any move.

Because once she did... it would pounce.

She took a sharp intake of breath.

Mistake.

A grave, monumental, colossal mistake.

Because at this point-blank range, all that rushed into her poor, unsuspecting nostrils was pure unfiltered man—raw sweat, muscle oil, testosterone, and whatever goddamn pheromone Rae was naturally radiating like some horny warlock.

Her brain?

Gone.

Hijacked.

Like someone lit a fuse and tossed it into her hormonal headquarters.

Suddenly, PINK.

A glowing, ethereal circle flared around her eyes, pulsing like a neon sign that screamed, "YES, DADDY."

A soft wet puddle had bloomed under her towel like a lewd little flower, and her thighs were glued tighter than church doors on a Monday.

’Ohoho... what’s this?’

Rae blinked down at her, cocking an eyebrow like he was observing an endangered species discovering its mating ritual.

Her expression was empty—glassy.

Her lips were parted, breath shaky, body twitching like she just got downloaded with a 5GB sex patch.

’That stare... that dazed look... heh. I short-circuited her.’

And then he noticed it, those pink glowing rings in her eyes, spinning slowly like lust-fueled loading screens.

’Is that?’

Rae grinned.

’Is this her succubus bloodline waking up? Geez... am I pulling a succubus out of her cocoon of denial with my divine dong skills?’

He already knew the answer.

She was part vampire, part Succubi, of all things. Amalgamation of two of the bitter enemies.

But when the situation called for lust instead of bloodshed... it was the other bloodline that answered the phone. The slutty one. The succubus one.

And that phone was ringing off the damn hook.

’Well, well, well... looks like today’s a harvest day.’

Rae cracked his knuckles.

This was it. The perfect moment.

She was defenseless, dazed, dripping with anticipation, and definitely not thinking with her upper brain.

Time to make Lyra submit. Not gently, not politely. Oh no.

He leaned closer, breath warm against her ear.

"Madame..."

He whispered...

"I am going to massage your boobies... and glide my hands under that towel of yours... and massage your wet pussy."

Pause. Just for dramatic effect.

"Is that okay?"

Of course, he know the answer.

And answer was no answer at all.

"..."

Because Lyra was not here.

Her soul had temporarily logged off. Her body was stuck in "Succubus.exe: Overdrive Edition."

So he threw a carrot at her. Not literally. Metaphorically.

Though honestly, with the way her eyes followed his every twitch, even an actual carrot would’ve made her moan.

Rae lowered himself slowly, just enough so that his divine meat was a millimeter, maybe less, away from her cherry lips.

Suspended there. Looming like a blessed threat.

Each time it twitched downward, her lips parted instinctively, like a princess welcoming a forbidden guest into her castle gates.

Each time it lifted slightly, her lips closed again, pouty and desperate—like a door that wanted to be knocked on. Or kicked open.

Rae smirked like a man who already knew the ending of the movie but was still enjoying the build-up.

"Do you want it?"

His voice was calm. Too calm. Like he wasn’t fully aware that his monster was basically asking to slide down her throat like a divine popsicle.

Obviously, he was referring to the "massage" he’d mentioned earlier. Totally innocent. Totally non-sexual. Totally.

But what Lyra’s half-awakened succubus blood heard was:

"Do you want my monster?"

And her brain, already soaked in lust, short-circuited entirely.

"...Yes," she whispered, breath hot and heavy. "I want it..."

There it was.

Consent, confession, and corruption—all wrapped into three slutty syllables.

Rae chuckled.

He grabbed the oil bottle and gave it a dramatic shake, like a chef about to ruin a Michelin star dish on purpose.

He poured a slow stream from her chest down to her belly, letting it glide over the towel like molten sin.

Lyra twitched.

All the while, he dipped his hips ever so slightly, just enough for the tip to hover dangerously close to her parted lips.

Close. Temptingly close.

It didn’t touch. Just... floated there. Like a forbidden fruit on a string.

Lyra, eyes still shut, breathed out shakily.

Her lips quivered, and, almost by instinct, her tongue snuck out, slow and unsure, as if testing the air for heat, and touched...