"Leave."
Nine's voice sliced through the air—cold, absolute.
Colla, halfway through wiping down her weapon, let out a low whistle. She tossed the cloth aside and, without a word, slipped out, leaving only the two of them in the dimly lit chamber.
The door clicked shut.
Aya barely had a moment to steady herself before Nine moved—swift, unyielding. A firm hand grasped her wrist, pulling her flush against him. The scent of aged steel, leather, and something darker—something unmistakably his—wrapped around her, intoxicating and inescapable.
"I need to get ready," she murmured, pressing a hand to his chest, meaning to push him away.
He didn't budge.
His dark eyes locked onto hers, searching, tracing every flicker of hesitation, every unsteady breath. His voice, when it came, was quiet, yet heavy with something that made her pulse quicken.
"Aya… have we ever kissed?"
Her breath hitched. "On the cheek. Yeah. Why?"
A slow smirk ghosted across his lips—one that sent a shiver through her spine. "Not like this, then."
Before she could question him, he dipped his head, his lips brushing against hers—a whisper of a kiss, a test, a question. When she didn't pull away, he pressed deeper.
His mouth slanted over hers, coaxing, tasting, claiming. His tongue traced the seam of her lips, slipping past with hesitant curiosity—then growing bolder. Heat coiled low in her stomach as he devoured her slowly, deliberately, as if memorizing the way she yielded beneath him.
Aya gasped against his mouth, fingers instinctively curling into his tunic. It was too much—too new, too consuming. She tried to retreat, but Nine followed, swallowing her breath, claiming every ounce of resistance she had left.
And then she felt it.
Something hard, insistent, pressing against her stomach.
Her hand moved instinctively, meaning to push it away—until Nine let out a guttural groan, his body shuddering beneath her touch.
His forehead dropped against her shoulder, his breath hot against her skin, ragged with restraint. His grip tightened at her waist, fingers flexing as if barely holding himself back.
"Aya," he rasped. "If you touch me like that, I won't stop."
Realization struck like a bolt of lightning. Heat crawled up her neck as she yanked her hand away, pulse hammering.
"Is that…?"
Nine exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against hers, his restraint fraying. "Will you let me?"
She swallowed. "Do you even know how?"
A dark chuckle ghosted over her lips. "We'll learn together."
Then he pushed her back onto the mattress.
Aya stiffened as his hands slid up her thighs, lifting the fabric of her dress. His scent—blood, steel, and something deeply, maddeningly male—filled her senses, suffocating and dizzying.
Nine's lips traced a path from her jaw to her collarbone, his tongue flicking over sensitive skin before descending lower. A shudder ran through her as he found the curve of her breast, his sharp teeth grazing before his tongue soothed. His lips closed over her, sucking—slow, deliberate, each pull sending a spark of something molten through her.
A gasp escaped her, fingers tangling in his hair. Impatient, Nine tore at the fabric separating them, his breath heavy as his hands explored newly exposed skin.
His fingers traced the inside of her thigh, teasing, learning, discovering. Then—his lips followed.
Aya jolted as his tongue pressed against her, slow and deep, tasting, savoring.
"N-Nine—!"
A low growl rumbled in his chest, his grip tightening as he pulled her against his mouth, utterly lost in the way she trembled beneath him.
"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, voice thick with hunger.
Aya couldn't think—could barely breathe. And then—
He positioned himself at her entrance.
The thick head of his length pressed in, stretching her inch by inch. A sharp sting made her gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Nine froze, his forehead pressed against hers, fingers lacing with hers.
"Relax," he whispered, his voice taut with restraint. "Breathe, Aya."
She tried. She really did. But the overwhelming sensation of him filling her sent a shudder through her body. He pushed deeper, groaning as he finally seated himself fully within her.
Aya trembled, a mix of pain and something deeper—something raw, aching, unfamiliar.
Nine's breathing turned ragged. "You feel… too good."
He began to move.
Slow at first, each thrust deliberate, deep, dragging out every sensation, every reaction. The discomfort faded, replaced by something else—something that made her clutch at him, her moans turning soft, desperate.
"Nine—!"
His name left her lips in a broken gasp, and it shattered the last of his restraint.
Nine's grip tightened as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent. The slick, rhythmic sound of their bodies moving together filled the room. Aya's mind blurred, pleasure coiling inside her, winding tighter, tighter—
His hand found her throat, resting there—not squeezing, just feeling the frantic rhythm of her pulse beneath his palm.
"Come with me, Aya."
And then—
She shattered.
Her body arched, her cry swallowed by the pleasure crashing over her. Nine followed, groaning against her skin as he buried himself deep, his release spilling inside her in thick pulses.
She barely had time to catch her breath before he moved again.
"A-ah—wait…!" Aya whimpered, her body trembling from overstimulation.
Nine didn't listen.
He pulled her onto his lap, guiding her down onto him again, his hips thrusting up to meet hers. The new angle forced him deeper, making her whimper.
Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails across his skin, but Nine only groaned, gripping her waist to control her movements. His gaze burned into hers, dark, possessive.
"I'm not done."
Aya barely had time to protest before he flipped her onto her back again, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he drove into her—relentless, consuming.
She was lost—utterly lost in the storm he unleashed upon her, each thrust dragging her deeper into bliss, again and again, until she couldn't even remember her own name.
Nine's breathing turned ragged as he neared his limit. His grip tightened, his voice rough, primal.
"I'll make you mine," he growled. "I'll make sure of it."
Aya barely comprehended the words before the last wave of pleasure overtook her, her body convulsing around him. Nine followed, groaning as he came again, filling her once more, marking her in every way he could.
Even as their mixed release spilled between them, he didn't pull away. Instead, he pushed back inside, cradling her trembling form against him.
"I'll keep it inside," he murmured, voice satisfied.
Aya, too dazed to respond, whimpered softly against his chest.
As she drifted into exhausted slumber, Nine only held her closer, still buried deep inside her—ensuring that she belonged to him, and him alone.