Chapter 304: A Blowjob?
April’s hands, guided by a sudden, shameless curiosity, began to slowly slide down his torso, tracing the line of his stomach toward his belt.
"If you’re not shy, then look at me, Xavier. Look me in the eye,"she murmured softly.
Xavier’s gaze finally locked onto hers, heavy with helpless surrender and raw, burning heat. As their eyes met, April’s hand reached his lap, her fingers brushing against the heavy, unmistakable bulge straining hard beneath his trousers.
She let out an inaudible gasp, her eyes widening just a fraction as she felt the warm and rigid length throbbing against her palm.
"Is this... what you were trying to hide?" April whispered, her voice dropping into a low, breathless purr.
Xavier let out a low, shuddering groan, throwing one hand over his flushed face to hide his overwhelming embarrassment. He couldn’t hide it even if he wanted to—she had way too much power over him, and they both knew it.
His mind raced frantically, trying to grasp at any plausible excuse to salvage what was left of his dignity. He was on the verge of stammering that he was just pent up, or that this was simply a normal physiological reaction whenever the woman he loved got this so close to him.
But before the words could form on his tongue, April’s fingers began to move, rubbing her palm gently over his swollen length through the fabric of his trousers.
"Want me to help?" she asked, her tone sweet, curious, and entirely direct.
Xavier faltered completely, his brain short-circuiting as a low gasp caught in his throat. "You? How...?"
"Nat taught me this thing called a handjob," April explained plainly, her eyes looking into his with absolute clarity, without a trace of embarrassment. "I could use my hands and get you off. That would make you feel better, right?"
Xavier’s chest heaved, his pulse hammering like a war drum in his ears. What in the world was he even supposed to say to that?
A sudden spike of irritation flared in his chest—Nat had taught her how to do a handjob? The sheer thought of Nat instilling those ideas into her head, guiding her hands, and reaping the benefits made Xavier’s jaw tighten.
A dark, possessive competitiveness surged through his usual saintly demeanor. He hated being left out. He hated feeling like he was lagging behind, relegated to the ’inexperienced’ corner while other men left their mark on her.
"Then, April..." Xavier rasped, his voice dropping into a thick, low register as he held her gaze. "Want me to teach you something else?"
April tilted her head slightly, her hand still resting against his throbbing length. "Something else? Like what?"
"A blowjob," he whispered.
He had done his own quiet, thorough research late at night—curious, desperate to understand the mechanics of intimacy so he wouldn’t be completely clueless. He knew the theory, even if he had never experienced it firsthand.
Logical reasoning told him that a blowjob from an inexperienced partner carried the risk of clumsy teeth or awkward friction, but right now, Xavier didn’t care. He was certain that anything April did to him would drive him completely out of his mind.
"What’s that?" April asked, her dark eyes wide with pure, unbothered curiosity.
"It’s almost like a handjob, but..."
Xavier reached up, his broad, warm palm cupping her soft cheek. His thumb stroked gently across her lower lip, pressing it down just enough to expose the soft pink of her gums and her neat white teeth.
"...you use your mouth, not your hand."
April blinked, her mind immediately running through the physical logistics. "My mouth?"
She had never considered it, and frankly, it didn’t seem plausible. She automatically pictured the sheer size of Nat’s penis. If she were to fit something of those proportions into her mouth...
"Won’t the corners of my lips just tear from the size?" she asked aloud, the thought slipping out without her meaning to.
Xavier’s breath hitched, his lips pursing as his eyes narrowed with sudden, stinging grief. Reality crashed down on him as he realized what he had just asked of her—and who she was using as her mental point of reference.
"You’re right," Xavier murmured, his voice dropping into a quiet, painful whisper. "I’m sorry, I didn’t think that far. I got greedy and..."
"It’s fine," April interrupted smoothly, her palm staying rested on his chest. "It’s not like you tried to force me into anything."
Still, her practical reassurances did nothing to ease the sharp ache settling in his chest.
April looked up into his face. She couldn’t read his thoughts, but she recognized that expression—she had seen that quiet, heavy longing before, the subtle grief when he felt like he was constantly steps behind, failing to measure up or claim his place beside her.
She reached up, her cool fingers gently resting against the side of his warm jaw.
A sudden realization clicked in her mind, pulling together pieces of research she had browsed online while trying to comprehend the true nature of his Class. Coupled with explanations of Samuel’s role as High Steward by the system, the truth of his identity became strikingly clear.
The Classes bestowed upon them weren’t just titles or combat roles for the zombie invasion—they were reflections of their core souls and deepest psychological realities.
"Xavier," April said softly, her dark eyes locking onto his softly.
For a Saint, that aching, bottomless void was an intrinsic burden. A Saint existed to be devoted, to carry a mantle, to serve a higher calling. Without a clear, absolute purpose to pour themselves into, they were left drifting—feeling perpetually left behind, empty, and hollow as the rest of the world moved forward without them.
Looking at the quiet grief in his gaze, April understood why he felt so lost.
It’s because I haven’t given him a purpose yet.
She hadn’t assigned him his place beside her, leaving him stranded in that empty space, desperately searching for a way to prove his worth.
Her heart softened with an unexpected, deep empathy.
April gently cupped his flushed face, her cool fingers resting against his jawline as she looked straight into his eyes, letting her thumb smooth over his cheekbone to ground him.