Free Web NovelChapter 31: The Gross Way Counts More (R-18)
To what felt like nearly an hour for Zerena, only fifteen minutes or so had actually passed since Max had started.
She could hardly believe it.
The show playing on TV had barely progressed enough to confirm it.
No missing scenes.
No skipped episodes.
Just fifteen stubbornly normal minutes.
Which meant Max wasn’t somehow messing with her perception.
Not that he could.
Sure, the idiot could be called a genius mage in some areas, but he was nowhere near the level of casually weaving illusions into people’s minds.
No—the reason time felt stretched could probably be explained by the steadily rising bar hovering above her head.
A detail only Max could see.
And judging from its progress?
[Zerena Falkner]
[▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱52%]
Honestly, Max had expected this to require significantly more effort.
Last time? Getting any meaningful reaction out of her had been about as easy as trying to debug code written by a sleep-deprived goblin with anger issues. He’d eventually needed the Reflex Arc Rune just to confirm reality was still functioning.
This time?
No rune.
Which, admittedly, had taken a surprising amount of self-restraint.
The real complication, however, was Zerena.
She had officially abandoned the "I’m definitely not noticing anything" strategy.
Every so often, she glanced downward again, like someone repeatedly checking whether a small kitchen fire might solve itself if ignored hard enough.
He could see the growing restlessness in the small movements she probably didn’t realize she was making—hands shifting, fingers curling into loose fists like her body had opened several emergency complaints with management and was still waiting for a response ticket.
Something.
She clearly wanted to do something.
Stop this. Adjust this. Reevaluate every life decision that had somehow led to this bizarrely cursed point in her timeline.
...but hesitation kept winning the coin toss.
Max, unfortunately, did not suffer from that particular condition.
Once his brain locked onto a course of action, subtlety usually packed its bags and left the country.
One hand had already drifted toward her waist squeezing along the curve of her love handles with the sort of confidence normally associated with territorial housecats and unpaid landlords, while the other remained stubbornly committed to its current assignment — fondling the breast with stubborn dedication. At the same time, his mouth remained occupied with sucking on the other one.
Both of her nipples had fully hardened by now, Max able to feel the slight firmness beneath the layer of his own saliva, which only made the experience more distracting for him.
He couldn’t seem to get enough.
Still, his attention refused to stay in one place for long, wandered all over her breasts —sometimes near the nipples, sometimes lower, tracing along the underside. The warmth, the lingering scent of skin and sweat... none of it registered as unpleasant to him. If anything, it only kept his focus locked in place.
Meanwhile, he stayed pressed close, continuing the absentminded friction of his body against hers simply because she hadn’t stopped him yet—a detail his opportunistic brain had been very quick to notice. freewebnσvel.cѳm
He could already feel an orgasm building from this alone, helped by the heat where he’d been rubbing his crotch against her. The spot had grown warm, even slightly damp with sweat through the thin fabric between them.
Part of him wished it had been bare skin instead of the slim pajama she was wearing.
But well—
for now, this was what reality had approved.
And reality, as always, remained aggressively committed to making him work for things.
Right as Max was in the middle of sucking her breasts and grinding himself up on her, Zerena suddenly snapped, voice thick with irritation.
"Stop. God, you’re so gross..."
She grabbed the nearby shirt with visible annoyance.
Max backed off immediately—
well, mostly immediately.
He still chose to remain awkwardly positioned between her legs, but his hands left her chest at once, apparently possessed by a surprisingly well-developed survival instinct that could recognize when they were suddenly in the wrong place.
Though a moment later, his hands shifted to squeeze her thighs instead.
"Seriously? You had to make this much of a mess?" she complained, obvious disgust written across her face. "Great... now I have to wash up again..."
She wiped the breasts off with shirt before tossing it aside with visible irritation.
"Do you have to suck on them that nastily?" she asked, still annoyed.
Max’s brain shifted gears at record speed.
"The system doesn’t count it if I don’t do it like that..." he answered without missing a beat.
"Is that system of yours controlled by some disgusting old pervert or something?" she asked.
Not that she actually expected an answer.
One look at Max’s face already told her he was operating with the same level of understanding as a confused intern accidentally handed classified paperwork.
With a long, tired sigh, she muttered, "Just... get it over with."
She lowered her arm again, sounding less resigned to the situation and more like someone approving deeply inconvenient tax documentation.
But Max didn’t miss the details.
She was still tense.
Obviously tense.
Her hand had curled into a tight fist without her seeming to notice, shoulders holding just a little too stiffly—like her body had unanimously voted against this entire arrangement, but upper management had pushed it through anyway.
Max went right back to it,
His earlier progress getting completely undone?
Apparently irrelevant.
A temporary setback.
A mild inconvenience.
Certainly not enough to discourage whatever perverted part of his brain that had taken charge of the operations.
He resumed, coating both of her nipples again before taking them back into his mouth one after the other, rolling his tongue around them, pressing and tracing over them first before drawing them between his lips once more. The routine carried an almost irritating level of persistence—like he had interpreted "just get it over with" as an operational command rather than reluctant permission.
"—ngh... ngh..."
The low, irritated sounds slipping out of her were enough to make Max’s confidence inflate several dangerously unearned levels.
"Can you put your legs around me?" he asked—
—which was a spectacularly dishonest question, considering he was already guiding them into place before she could answer, smoothly rearranging the situation like he’d mistaken asking for a decorative formality.
And naturally, he came preloaded with an excuse.
"It’s more comfortable like this..."
A blatant lie.
"Just suck on them, idiot," she snapped angrily, shoving his face back down with visible annoyance.
Yet—rather unhelpfully for her argument—her legs remained hooked around his waist.
Worse.
They tightened slightly.
Not enough for anyone sane to overanalyze.
Unfortunately for reality, Max was involved.
Internally, a smug little grin immediately filed this under:
’Noted. Extremely noted.’
