Free Web NovelChapter 8: The Night Is Young
[SLIGHTLY R-18. This is not SMUT, but it’s suggestive.]
Accruing all his energy, Nash tried to wrestle his arm free from Lysandra, but she didn’t even budge.
’Damn, she’s like iron,’ he thought, trying once again to wriggle free. She sat on top of him, unabated.
Slowly, she brushed the back of her hand against Nash’s face. "Hm, now that I’m taking a second look, it’s not perfect, but I think I can work with this."
Nash shuddered. "W-wait, while I’m not totally against... well, you know... there’s something I need to say-"
"Shh," Lysandra pushed her finger against Nash’s lips, then lowered herself onto his crotch. "No talking."
She brought her head down to the side of his face, gusting wind on him with her breath.
He straightened like a tree, grunting from the sudden sensation. It was like sparks shot out from head to toe, seizing his body.
His chest constricted, shrinking from the deep breath he released. "Lysandra, please-"
Lysandra simply moved her hips back and forth, watching as Nash rested his head to the side. Closing his eyes, he resigned.
Taking this as an opportunity, Lysandra rubbed Nash’s crotch with her hand.
"Uwaghh!" he yelled, his legs going taut.
Lysandra smirked, looking down where she sat on Nash. "Hm, it seems you’re enjoying this more than you let on."
Nash squeezed his face. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want this, but it was all so sudden, all so--
As he closed his eyes, light brown hair flashed through his mind. It waved wonderfully, like grass through a pleasant breeze.
Of Seraphine, her bright smile, her pretty eyes. She was saying something, but he couldn’t make it out. No, he was too enamored.
He opened his eyes, hoping to tell Lysandra off, but before he could even get the words out, she pushed her finger into his lips once again.
"I can see you thinking about her," she said, rubbing her hips against Nash more vigorously. "Don’t. Let me take your mind off of her. Let me."
Like getting struck by lightning, Nash felt petrified. He really did want to push Lysandra off, but the immense warmth, the incredible pleasure coming from her contact was too much to handle.
He squeezed his legs together, fighting back against her rubbing as best he could, but Lysandra only took that as a challenge.
Without warning, she lifted her skirt up, revealing her underwear. It was black, striped and patterned.
’Lingerie? For what reason?’
"Say, you wouldn’t happen to be a virgin, would you?" she asked, beginning to peel at even her panties.
Meekly, Nash bobbed his head, too red with embarrassment to say it out loud. Lysandra didn’t say anything.
No, she did something way worse.
Stopping with her back and forth movements, she dropped her chest to Nash’s.
Her breasts weighed down on him. Nash convulsed, feeling as two distinctly pointy, yet soft protrusions pressed into him even worse than her breasts.
’A-are those--’
His eyes rolled back. With grit teeth, he felt as their heat burrowed further and further into him. It was like spears of pleasure had pierced him, and to make matters worse, he could feel the beating of her heart.
"Just let me take the lead," Lysandra continued, slowly advancing her hand up from Nash’s thigh to his groin.
It was too much for Nash. He felt himself whimpering, sounds unbecoming for a man.
Yet it was all he do just to hold himself back from attacking her and ripping her clothes off.
Just as the pleasure had reached its peak, his mind flashed to any number of things. But then, again, he saw it.
Seraphine was there, except he could hear her voice this time.
["You’re not worthy of love."]
["You can’t even create a sputter of magic"]
["You’ll never be good enough"]
His heart dropped, his eyes welled with tears. He’d heard words that he wished never exited Seraphine’s mouth, and they all affirmed what he least wanted to think.
Without so much as a wasted thought, he used all the power he could muster to push Lysandra off of him. She coughed from the sudden impact, landing squarely on the other side of the bed.
"What the hell!" she roared. She stared daggers into Nash, her face squeezed with so much rage that she looked like a different person.
But Nash didn’t bend over to her anger. "I’m sorry, I truly am, but I’m just not ready for such quick commitment.
Please, do understand that there’s a lot going on in my life, and, honestly, I don’t think I’m in the mental space to be engaged with a woman on... this level."
Although Lysandra had been gripping the sheets with enough tenacity to tear them to shreds, she loosened her grip, and her expression with it. "I... understand."
"You do?"
"Yeah."
Lysandra spun around, hanging her feet off the ledge of the bed. "Make no mistake, I don’t enjoy being rejected like this, but I think I share your feelings."
Confused, Nash turned his body to face Lysandra. He raised his hand in pursuit of her shoulder, but decided against it once he witnessed the look on her face. "Then why?" he asked.
"Truthfully, I was pressured to take your hand. It would help better the relationship between your house and mine." Lysandra kept her hands to her chest, looking down.
Nash’s body grew heavy. ’I don’t even like her,’ he thought. A half-lie, evidenced by his growing disappointment. But he hid it well.
Lysandra reeled, looking directly into Nash. Her face was frantic. "But make no mistake, I do like you! I just think that I might’ve been moving too fast for my own liking."
Laughing, Nash patted her right shoulder. "It’s okay, I understand." Then, he laid back on the bed, facing the ceiling. "That’s why it’d also be okay if you left. I think, maybe we let our families influence who we are, even if we don’t enjoy the person we’re becoming. Perhaps now is the moment where we can break free from that curse."
Tearing up, Lysandra stood up, using one of the bed’s overarching pillars as support. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Nash nodded, gesturing her for the door.
She stood silent for a few seconds before stepping away, looking back at Nash with every step.
Nash didn’t return her glances, staring into the ceiling silently until he heard the door shut behind her.
"Well, that’s that." He sighed to himself, thinking about Seraphine again.
Instantly, his voice broke. He gasped for air, struggling to contain the onslaught of emotion crashing through him. He found the world beginning to blur, tears rolling down his face.
The silence was deafening, and there was nothing to accompany him. Instead, he sat there, wallowing in his own despair--too inundated to beat himself over the numerous mistakes he’d made.
He started flailing, beating his bed sheets. Using the pillow to cover his mouth, he screamed at the top of his lungs, though even that didn’t help. freёweɓnovel.com
"You ready for a long night?" a voice sounded. Immediately, Nash rubbed his eyes free of tears, though he wasn’t able to make them any less red. "You okay?" the voice asked again.
It was Lysandra, carrying a bottle and two glasses. "Come on, the night is young. Let us enjoy it."
Nash’s entire body became weightless, head in the clouds. He smiled, just barely. "Y-you’re back?"
Lysandra nodded. "Why wouldn’t I be? I thought you might’ve been thirsty."
"You don’t care about what I said earlier?" he asked.
With a grin, Lysandra took a few steps away from the door. "All I caught from our conversation was that you have some emotional baggage." Laughing, she closed the door behind her. "But don’t we all?"
With a light exhale, Nash felt a wave of relief hit him. Seraphine crossed his mind, but he shook her away. He wasn’t going to let her mess this up.
"Oh, yeah, come on in without asking." Nash--still elated--noticed the bottle in her arms. He eyed her curiously. "But what’s that?"
Smiling, Lysandra sat down on his bed. "You really want to know?"
In her tone hid a smidgen of childish delinquency. Nash knew it all too well.
Yet, still, he nodded.
"It’s Miracle Sap," Lysandra said, placing it right in the middle of the two. "Heard it’s really strong."
"But... that’s alcohol? And where did you even get that?"
"Stole it from the kitchen."
Shaking his head, Nash inched away from here, hand in front of him. "I’m sorry, no. If this is about trying to loosen me up to-"
"Oh, come on. I’m not trying to sleep with you. I just thought, since you’d mentioned that you want to get away from your father’s influence, you’d be up for something like drinking from their archives." Lysandra gripped the cap on the bottle, forcing a ’plop’ as she pulled it out.
Still, Nash was refusing. "I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s just that..."
"What?" Lysandra questioned.
"I don’t know, I guess it may or may not be because I’m... inexperienced..." ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com
Silence hung in the air, long and awkward. Then Lysandra let out a light chuckle. "Seriously, you haven’t drunk before?"
"That’s not what I said!" Nash retorted, grabbing her shoulders. Immediately, he noticed and reeled back. "Sorry. But, if you want me to be honest... then yeah, I haven’t had alcohol before."
Grabbing one of the cups, Lysandra raised it to the bottle’s top, tipping the bottle into the glass. As alcohol guzzled out, she hissed. "You hear that?"
"What?"
"That’s the sound of your first drink. Bottom up." Without giving Nash a moment to respond, she pushed the glass of Miracle Sap into his hands.
He sat there, unresponsive. Clicking her tongue, Lysandra raised her hand in front of her, gripping an imaginary cup, before reenacting what drinking it would look like.
"Are you making fun of me?" Nash questioned.
Lysandra wriggled her finger back and forth in front of his face. "No, not at all. I just need you to trust me." She pointed to the glass, then to his mouth. "Come on, drink it."
Sighing, Nash raised the cup to his mouth. Its edge hovered over his lips. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quell the shaking in his hands.
Taking a deep breath, he laid the cup on his tongue, then gulped as much of it as he could.
A fire erupted from his chest, up through his throat, then back. It blazed uncontrollably, tensing his entire body.
Green acid burrowed up his throat, only barely stopped by Nash’s clenched teeth. Hesitantly, he gulped it back down.
With tears in his eyes, he looked to Lysandra. He wanted to curse her out, but the words were stopped by the red-hot throbbing in his throat.
"Hahahah! I’ve never seen someone down so much before!" She was bouncing on the bed, in tears from all the laughter.
Gasping, Nash poured the rest of the cup on the carpet floor. "Well, I didn’t find that too amusing."
"You’ll live!" Lysandra said, placing the bottle on the floor. "And you’ll never forget your first drink. For some reason, it’s always too much at once, and never too little."
Suppressing any urges to yell at her, Nash glanced at the bottle. "And you’re not going to drink any?"
"No. It’s unbecoming of a noblewoman to drink."
She looked at Nash with contempt, like it was a travesty just to insinuate such a thing.
He bit back his words, softening his gaze.
They went silent for just a moment before, followed by the shuffling of the bed sheets.
Lysandra trudged herself to the other side of the bed, covering herself with the sheets. "Lie down," she said.
Nash agreed, covering himself with the sheets as well.
"What do you want to do?" he asked, watching carefully for a change in expression. But she only smiled. "And no sex."
Her smile faded.
Quiet, she sank deeper into the mattress. "What do you think you want to do with your life?"
"Why do you ask?" he asked.
"Well, you asked what I wanted to do. I want to get to know you, the man lying before me, in the same bed as me." She moved just a hair closer to him, though not so small that he didn’t notice.
Nash hummed in thought, looking to his white sheets. How it reflected all light, how it reminded him of all he was not. "An adventurer," he said strongly.
"An adventurer? Really?" Her tone was marked with so much disbelief that it’d bled into her face.
"You don’t need to act so surprised. I know I don’t have magic," he said, no words to disagree with her lack of faith.
But she shook her head. "No, that’s not it. There are plenty of adventurers who have no talent for magic. What most surprised me is that your goal is so... naive."
"What do you mean?" he asked, too curious to be mad.
"Nash, do you not understand your position?"
He didn’t respond.
"Look, you must know about the fable of Lucifer and Gabriel."
