Chapter 276- Nano acting like little Slut
Not because he was done — just paused, his cock seated fully in Sugar who shook and whimpered against the console at the interruption, her walls clenching around him in the helpless protest of a body that had been at the edge and has just had its momentum cut.
He looked at Nano.
She pulled the hoodie off.
The laboratory light was not kind about this.
Forty-three screens at full brightness, catching every detail.
Petite. The word that described her frame entirely — small-boned, compact, the body of a woman who had been described as delicate by everyone who had met her and had found ways to make all of them regret the assumption.
Thick in the places that mattered.
Her thighs. Her hips, curving outward from her narrow waist in a ratio that the oversized hoodie had been successfully concealing. Her breasts, small and perfectly round, the nipples hard from the cool laboratory air, pointing at him with the directness of nipples that have been handled and are still at attention.
Her stomach flat.
The plain cotton panties soaked through at the center, the dark wet visible in the light, the fabric clinging to the shape of her entrance and her inner lips in the complete, honest outline of a woman who had been masturbating twenty minutes ago and had not stopped being aroused since.
She stood in the laboratory light.
Looking at him.
Embarrassed in the specific way of a woman who has removed her own clothes and is now standing in the aftermath of that decision in front of the man she removed them for.
He pulled her forward.
One hand leaving Sugar’s hip.
Reaching out.
Finding Nano’s waist and pulling her into him with the flat, unhurried efficiency of a man who has decided where something belongs and is moving it there.
She hit his chest.
Her face pressing against the warm skin of him, the bare chest she had watched on forty-three screens for thirty minutes, suddenly present and solid and exactly as she remembered from a life she wasn’t supposed to have memories of.
She felt the hoodie punch from her — the remnant of it falling from her hands, the last fabric between her and the air of the laboratory.
His arm around her waist.
Holding her.
The chuckle came through his chest into her cheek.
Low. Warm. The specific quality of a laugh that carries something other than amusement.
She pressed her lips together.
Her hands came up between them.
Not to push.
They found his chest and stayed there.
He looked at her face.
Her eyes were wet.
The thin, continuous tears of a woman who has been wound too tight for too long and has just run out of the structural support she was using to hold it.
He looked at her for a moment.
The flat, unhurried look.
But softer around the edges than he allowed most things.
"You look as cute as ever," he said.
Her lips trembled.
The lower one.
The specific, involuntary tremor of a woman who has received a sentence directly to the place behind her sternum where she keeps the things she has not been able to put words to.
She bit it.
Her teeth pressing into her lower lip.
Stopping the tremble that way.
Not looking at him.
Looking at his collarbone instead.
He leaned down.
His mouth finding hers.
The kiss.
Not the bruising, demanding kiss he had given Sugar in the SUV. Not the claim of something being taken.
Something different.
His lips pressing against hers with the patience of a man who has done this before in a place neither of them can access directly and is finding the memory in the present with the slow, unhurried recognition of a body that remembers what the mind has filed under unavailable.
Her lips parted.
His tongue found hers.
The French kiss moving slow and deep — his tongue wrapping around hers in the specific, languid way of a man who is not in a hurry, who has all night, who has exactly as much time as he needs and knows it.
"Ummhh~— Slurrppp—"
Her hands, which had been flat against his chest, closed.
The fingers curling into his skin.
Not pushing.
Gripping.
Behind her, against the console:
PAH! PAH! PAH!
He had resumed.
His hips moving again with Sugar without breaking the kiss, the dual motion of fucking one woman while kissing another with the comprehensive multitasking of a man whose body has long since made peace with doing several things at once.
Sugar’s voice:
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!! NGH~!!"
His hand — the one not holding Nano — found Sugar’s hip again. The full-fingered grip returning. His hips driving in a rhythm that filled the laboratory with the percussion of wet flesh and Sugar’s cries.
His other hand found Nano’s ass.
The full, round petite curve of it. His palm spreading across one cheek, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, kneading it with the same proprietary grip he had used on her waist — the hands of a man cataloguing something he has decided to keep.
"Ummhh~— Slurrppp—" — ’Nano, into his mouth.’
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!" — ’Sugar, against the console.’
PAH! PAH! PAH! PAH!
Nano’s cunt.
Still covered by the soaked cotton panties, pressed against his thigh where her body had ended up in the pull of the embrace — the wet fabric against his skin, her entrance clenching through the fabric with small, involuntary pulses.
She broke the kiss.
Her forehead dropping against his shoulder.
Her breath coming out in the irregular, broken rhythm of a woman who is trying to manage something her body has stopped cooperating with.
"Slurrppp— Unnh—" She breathed against his shoulder. "Cruxius—"
His hand on her ass squeezed.
PAH! PAH! PAAAH!
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! ’FILL ME’~!! OUNGH~!!" — ’Sugar.’
He kept going.
Both hands occupied.
Both women present.
The laboratory filled with the sound of all of it — the percussion of his hips, Sugar’s cries bouncing off forty-three screens, Nano’s broken breath against his shoulder, the servers blinking their patient rhythmic green in the background as if none of this was their business.
Which it wasn’t.
He looked at the ceiling of the laboratory.
At the hum of the overhead lights.
At the door with its biometric lock.
At the forty-six hours and forty-nine minutes remaining on the suppressor feed that no longer applied to him.
At the two women in the room with him.
At the one night ahead.
The corner of his mouth moved.
Just the corner.
The small, private thing.
"Nobody’s going anywhere," he said.
To the ceiling.
To the room.
To the servers.
To whoever was watching whatever feed was still running.
"Not tonight."
PAH! PAH! PAH! PAH! PAAAH!
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!"
"Unnh— Cruxius—"
"Ummhh~!! Gluck... slurrppp~!!"
His tongue invaded her mouth without ceremony or patience, thick and dominant, coiling around her smaller, trembling one like it had been waiting for this exact moment since approximately the rooftop.
Nano whimpered into him.
Her hands — which had started on his chest with the intention of maintaining some version of structural distance — had long since abandoned that position and were gripping his shoulders with her nails leaving thin, red lines on his skin.
The kiss was filthy.
Genuinely filthy.
Thick strands of saliva connecting their lips every time they broke for air and immediately rejoined, the wet, obscene sound of it mixing with the continuous PAH! PAH! PAH! coming from behind her where Sugar was still bent over the console.
"AAANGHH~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!!"
Nano felt the sound against his chest before she heard it.
The vibration of Sugar’s cries traveling through him, through the point of contact at her cheek against his pec, the evidence that he was doing two things simultaneously and finding neither of them taxing.
"Ummhh~!! Ahhnngg~!! Cruxius, your tongue is so—"
He pushed her lower.
Not rough. Deliberate. His hand at the back of her head tilting and guiding, his palm firm against her hair, his thumb pressing behind her ear.
Down.
Her lips dragging from his mouth to his jaw to his throat, her tongue tasting the salt of his skin at the column of his neck.
"That’s it," he murmured. Low. The tone he used when something was going exactly as planned. "Get down there, my eager little Nano."
The kiss separated with a long, glistening thread of saliva connecting their tongues until distance broke it.
It fell across her chin.
She didn’t wipe it.
Her knees found the floor.
The laboratory tiles cold through her thin panties — she was still only wearing those, her hoodie gone, her small body entirely exposed in the full, honest brightness of forty-three screens at full output.
Her lips found his neck first.
Then lower.
Open-mouthed kisses across his collarbone, his chest, her tongue dragging across his left nipple before moving to his abs.
"Mmm—" Her breath came out warm against his stomach. "You taste the same." The words arrived before she could stop them. "You taste exactly the same as—"
She stopped herself.
Pressed her mouth against his lower abdomen instead of finishing the sentence.
’Don’t say it.’ ’Do not tell him you remember.’ ’Do not give him that.’
Behind her, against the console:
PAH! PAH! PAH! PAH!
"AAANGHH~!! ’TOO DEEP’~!! HIIEEK~!! OUNGH~!! ’Cruxius please—’!!"
Sugar’s voice cracking on the please.
Her handcuffed wrists pressing flat against the console surface. One leg still hooked in the air, her body driven forward with every thrust, the power suppressor collar catching the screen-light at her neck with each impact.
Nano arrived between his legs.
Her face at the exact elevation his body had pulled her to.
The cock she had watched on Screen Seven for thirty minutes — close enough now that she could feel the heat radiating from it, the heavy, twitching evidence of a man who had been continuously occupied for the better part of the morning and had no visible intention of stopping.
His balls.
Heavy. Full. The skin of them warm under the cool laboratory air, drawn slightly upward with the sustained exertion.
She leaned in.
Her mouth opened.
"Mmmphh~!! Gluck... slurrpp~!!"