I didn't know where the strength came from. My body was still heavy with exhaustion, my limbs aching as if I'd run a marathon. But somehow, somehow, being this close to her, feeling her warmth against me, lit a fire that refused to go out.
It wasn't just physical. It was something more. A pull I couldn't resist, a need to hold her, to feel her, to lose myself in her.
Somewhere along the line, her soft gasps turned into small protests, her hands pressing weakly against my chest. "K-Kevin, wait…" Her voice quivered, tinged with both tenderness and exasperation. "I... it hurts…"
I froze immediately, my mind snapping back into focus. Her crimson eyes blinked up at me, cheeks flushed, her expression caught between scolding and concern.
"You're too much," she murmured, brushing her fingers against my damp hair. "Your body… you're already exhausted."
Her voice softened further, laced with something I could only describe as guilt. "You need to stop before you completely collapse. Including last night's times, we have done it more than 7 times."
I sank back against the bed, breathing heavily, my arms still wrapped loosely around her. Her tail swayed faintly behind her as she sat up, hands resting gently on my chest as though to keep me still.
"You need to be more careful," she added quietly, though there was a slight pout on her lips that made her look far too adorable for someone who'd just been telling me off.
"Sorry…" I murmured with a faint, sheepish grin, my eyelids feeling heavier by the second. "I don't know what came over me."
Her expression softened further, her fingers tracing light patterns across my skin as she sighed. "Idiot…" she whispered fondly, shaking her head. "You really need to learn to take care of yourself."
As I drifted off, her warmth remained, grounding me. Her quiet muttering about how I was "reckless" and how she needed to "fix me" somehow made me smile even through the haze of exhaustion.
---
I watched him sleep, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. His face, finally at rest, looked so peaceful—so human. My hand lingered against his damp hair, brushing it gently away from his forehead.
My Demon Lord above… what did I just do?
The heat still burned faintly in my cheeks, a reminder of my earlier surrender. He was strong, far stronger than I had expected, and his eagerness had left me—me, a demon—feeling completely overwhelmed. A succubus was supposed to control, to dominate, to be the master of the moment. And yet, in his arms, I'd felt…
Small. Soft. Loved.
The realization made my heart twist in ways I didn't know were possible. Is this what love feels like?
I let out a soft sigh, staring at him with something between exasperation and deep affection. "You foolish human…" I murmured, though the words carried no anger, only tenderness.
But he couldn't sleep too long—not like this. I leaned down and shook his shoulder gently. "Kevin… wake up."
He grumbled softly, stirring just enough to crack an eye open, blinking groggily. "Xier…?"
"You need energy," I said, my voice calm but firm. "You can't recover just by sleeping."
With a soft groan, he sat up slowly, his movements sluggish. I offered him a small cup of steaming broth—something I had prepared earlier, filled with restorative herbs and energy-boosting ingredients.
"Drink," I commanded softly, though my lips curved into a faint smile. "It'll help."
Kevin grumbled something under his breath—probably a complaint—but obediently took the cup and sipped. I watched carefully as he drank, my eyes lingering on the strong lines of his jaw, the way his brows furrowed slightly as if concentrating on the simple act of swallowing.
Why does he have to look so… perfect?
I shook the thought away quickly, grabbing the small empty tray of food I'd brought earlier. "Rest for now. I'll take these back."
I stood carefully, balancing the tray in my hands, and the moment I put weight on my legs—
Oh no.
A faint tremble started in my thighs, spreading down through my knees, until my legs felt like jelly. My steps faltered, and I barely managed to steady myself against the edge of the small table beside the bed.
What in the world…?
I felt heat rush to my face, mortified beyond belief. My wings twitched slightly behind me as if mocking my weakness. I'm a succubus, I scolded myself silently. This shouldn't be happening.
But my body betrayed me—every step I took was unsteady, my knees trembling beneath the weight of my own exhaustion.
Kevin's strength… My Demon Lord, where does it come from?
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to straighten, to regain at least a shred of dignity. But inside, my mind was a turbulent storm.
He's… too strong. Too… human.
I bit my lip, cheeks burning even brighter as I glanced back briefly, praying he hadn't noticed how I wobbled like a newborn foal.
How can one mortal make me, a creature of desire, feel so undone?
And worse still, why did I find myself loving every moment of it?
---
The days that followed were unexpectedly peaceful. After the exhaustion of that morning, Kevin seemed to bounce back quickly, surprising me with his relentless energy. By the second day, he'd insisted on returning to work, even though I could tell he wasn't fully recovered.
"You should rest another day," I had murmured, trailing a finger along his cheek as he prepared to leave.
He smiled, that soft, earnest smile of his, and kissed my forehead lightly. "I'll be fine. I promised my clients I'd finish this project."
I didn't know whether to be impressed or exasperated by his dedication, but seeing him so determined made my chest ache in that strange way I was beginning to recognize as love.
While he was gone during the day, the house settled into a kind of gentle quiet.
I spent my mornings tending to the plants in the sunlit corner of the living room, a hobby I had brought with me from my old, lonelier days. Their leaves seemed more vibrant now, as though responding to the lightness I felt in my heart.
Afternoons passed in a slow, comforting rhythm. I would prepare something light for Kevin's return—something simple, something human. Cooking wasn't a skill I'd mastered, but I was determined to learn. For him.
When he came home, tired but always smiling, it felt like the house lit up. He would drop his things by the door and pull me into a tight embrace, murmuring about how much he'd missed me.
And I missed him, too.
The nights were even quieter, warmer. Kevin would often sit beside me on the sofa, his strong arm slung casually around my shoulders as we watched something on TV—usually some poorly dubbed adventure movie that neither of us paid attention to. I would lean against him, the scent of his soap lingering on his skin, and feel a kind of contentment I hadn't thought possible.
He loved me.
I could see it in the way he looked at me, in the way his fingers brushed my hair or lingered against my wrist when he reached for my hand.
And as for me…
I was no longer fighting it.
On the third morning, after he'd left for work, I sat at my desk in the corner of the bedroom, a stack of blank papers in front of me. Outside the window, the forest rustled faintly in the breeze, the sound calming my thoughts.
It was time to write again.
I stared at the blank pages for a long time, my pen poised just above them, before I finally let the words come.
"The forest was still, but she could hear the whispers—soft, dangerous, alive."
Writing had always been my solace, my way of breathing life into a world that felt too empty. But now, the words felt different, filled with a kind of warmth I hadn't felt before. My stories no longer carried the shadows of my loneliness.
They carried him.
The days continued in their quiet rhythm—Kevin going to work in the mornings, returning at dusk with sawdust in his hair and stories about stubborn beams or tricky clients. I would listen, laughing softly as he shared his frustrations.
"Don't laugh at me," he'd say, grinning as he leaned in to steal a kiss.
And I would smile back, my heart swelling with a feeling I didn't know how to name.
In those simple, ordinary days, I learned to cherish the quiet moments. The way Kevin would hum to himself while repairing something in the garage. The way he'd fumble in the kitchen trying to help me cook, only to nearly burn whatever it was we were making.
We were happy.
And for the first time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, this was a life I could keep.