章 38: 37. Passionate (Not R-18, Trust)
(A/N: Source: trust me bro)
(Give me powerstones and reviews, be human my guys)
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The soft glow of the moonlight painted the dim room in pale silver hues, making the edges of everything seem elusive and unreal. Veilhem sat at the bedframe, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he gazed at the discarded pieces of his armor in the corner of the room.
He had stripped down to simple clothing and discarded his armor in the corner of the room, a rare sight even for himself. The faint gleam of the roots that stretched from his chest and crept up toward his neck glistened faintly in the moonlight. They were grotesque and unnatural, the cursed markings of what he wished to forget.
The Curse of the Undead.
His fingers absentmindedly traced the edge of one such root on his forearm when his focus shifted.
"How did this happen?" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and weighted, though not without warmth. His gaze fell downward to the woman perched on his lap.
(Pic)
Makima had positioned herself comfortably, her plump thighs gently pressing against his own, locking him in place. Her red hair poured over her shoulders, strands catching the faint light like rivers of blood.
She wore nothing but an oversized shirt and her black underwear, its loose fabric slipping from one shoulder, revealing pale skin that seemed to glow against the darkened room. The shirt hung limply, its folds emphasizing more of her attractive curves rather than concealing it.
Then there were her eyes, those mesmerizing golden-ringed eyes that now held no trace of the sharpness or calculation they usually wielded. Instead, they gazed up at him with a quiet softness, a shyness that Veilhem could hardly believe was real.
Her expression was calm, yet her slightly reddened earlobes and faintly trembling lips captivated him more than he had anticipated.
"Makima…" he breathed, his voice caught between confusion and restraint.
She didn't answer and instead, she tilted her head slightly, letting her hair brush against his bare arm. Her cheek came to rest against his collarbone, and her steady breaths warmed his skin.
The quiet intimacy of the moment was maddening, yet there was no malice in her touch, no calculation, no ulterior motives. She simply… rested against him, as though trying to savor the fleeting warmth of his presence.
Her thighs shifted ever so slightly, pressing closer as if to anchor herself to him. Veilhem clenched his fists at his sides to restrain his inner beast, fighting against the storm building within him.
The sight of her delicate frame, her soft breaths brushing against his neck, the way her crimson hair cascaded over his chest… It was simply too much. Though she stood at 170cm and her body was well-proportioned with perfect curves around her hip and chest, it was significantly smaller compared to him who stood roughly 210cm.
"Makima…" he said again, this time with more firmness.
She stirred slightly, snuggling her cheek against him like a contented cat before lifting her gaze. Her upturned eyes, glimmering in the faint light, met his. They seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words, but he couldn't quite understand the meaning behind them.
Her ears tinged faintly with red, twitched slightly as though anticipating something, anything from him.
"You… shouldn't do this." Veilhem mustered his utmost strength and said, at last, his voice a little hoarse. His hands hovered at her sides, unsure whether to push her away or pull her closer. "You're not quite yourself right now."
Her lips curved into a faint smile, one that was heartbreakingly genuine. "I'm always myself, Veilhem. I'm not one to lose control easily. After all, I'm a Control Devil, remember?"
She whispered, her voice carrying a softness that felt alien coming from her. "Maybe this is the part of me you've never cared to notice." Though her voice held a sad tone hidden behind those seemingly playful words.
Of course, Veilhem was not a dumbass and noticed it right away, he opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. She leaned forward, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck, her slender fingers brushing against the roots that stemmed from his heart. Her touch was featherlight, but it stopped his breath for a moment.
He had always hidden these scars, a symbol of his curse, of the monster he believed himself to be. Yet she held him as though they didn't exist, as though they didn't define him. Her action hit too close to home and in panic, he tried to push her away but before could do that, she was already one step ahead of him.
Makima slowly rose from her knees and put her mouth closer to his ears. "Don't run from me like I have run away from you." Her soft plea echoed, her lips so close to his ear that he could feel the warmth of her breath. "Let us stay like this… just for a while."
He froze in place, unsure of what to do. His mind screamed at him to break away, to create the distance that had always been their unspoken agreement. But his body betrayed him and said otherwise.
Slowly, almost against his will, his arms moved, wrapping around her slender frame. His hands settled at the small of her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.
"You're really impossible, Makima." Veilhem murmured, burying his face in her crimson hair. Her scent, faintly floral of the shampoo she usually used, permeated through his senses and intoxicated him. "You always make everything so damn complicated."
"And yet." Makima replied, her playful voice muffled against his neck. "You're still here, accepting me for who I am."
Veilhem sighed helplessly and shifted his sitting so that Makima could be more comfortable on his lap. They stayed like that, their breathing the only sound in the room. For once, there were no schemes, no battles, no bloodshed, just the quiet of two broken and forgotten souls finding solace in each other's warmth.
For a long while, he found a purpose in life and he was not willing to give it up. For someone who lost it all, it was all he had left. He held onto his elusive purpose with desperation because it was what defined him. It was the feeling of finding an oasis in the desert.
Veilhem's grip tightened ever so slightly, as though afraid that if he let go, she might disappear entirely. The purpose did not need to be grand nor did it have to bathe in the fleeting glorious. No, it was simply the daily life he had yet to become accustomed to.
As the night dragged on, he rested his chin atop her head, his hand unconsciously stroking her back in slow, soothing motions, feeling the smooth and softness of her skin in his hands. For now, he let himself drown in her overly clingy actions, surrendering to the rare moment of peace they had carved out of their chaotic world.
The silence continued for a while with no party willing to say anything, no words could describe their feelings right now as they understood the other party in silence.
It was only broken by the faint rustle of Makima's oversized shirt against his chest as she shifted ever so slightly, settling deeper into his embrace.
Veilhem's heart remained dead for who knew how long. He wished that it could beat again to hear if he was truly living right now. But that was far stretched for an undead like him, a dream he never achieved.
He felt her trying to listen to it, her head pressed against him as if the lack of sound from his heart was soothing, a rare vulnerability they were both too wary to acknowledge aloud.
The cursed roots carved into his skin pulsed faintly, a reminder of the burden he bore. His scars, his pain, the remainder of what his origin was, he had always seen them as his alone to carry.
Yet here she was, her long and slender fingers tracing the edges of those roots as if they were lines in a story she wanted to memorize.
"Do they hurt?" She asked suddenly, her voice softer than the moonlight bathing the room.
He hesitated, unsure how to answer. "They don't… usually…" He answered faithfully, his voice low and composed, a mask to hide his painful sorrow. "It's more like they're always there for as long as I can remember. A part of me I can't tear away."
Makima leaned back slightly, enough to look at him without completely breaking their closeness. Her golden-ringed eyes locked onto his, filled with an intensity that made his breath catch.
There was no pity in her gaze, no empty platitudes or hollow reassurances, just understanding. But that was enough for it to pierce the aloof mask he wore as if she could see straight through him.
"You've spent so long hiding them." she murmured, her fingers tracing over the roots that stretched toward his neck. "As if they define you. As if they're all you are."
"Aren't they?" He countered, his tone harsher than he intended. He looked away, his jaw tightening. "I've fought, bled, and broken myself for so long that these accused marks are all I have left to show for it. Even when the world is dying, what else is left for me besides the dunes of ashes?"
Her hand suddenly froze, resting lightly against his chest, just above his heart. "There's more to you than that, Veilhem." she said softly, her voice carrying a rare gentleness that made him look at her again. "But maybe you've forgotten how to see it."
"Everything starts with fire and must return to ashes." He scoffed, the sound bitter but not entirely dismissive. "...you think you can prove it?"
"I know I can because I have glanced over your memories." Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that was both confident and heartbreakingly tender. "In the cold, we seek warmth. You don't need to burn like a wildfire, just be the ember I can lean on."
"You may not realize it, but you've shown me pieces of yourself, pieces you don't even see. The way you carry the weight of others, the way you endure, even when it's tearing you apart. You're more than these scars, Veilhem. You're more than you let yourself believe. At least that's how it's for me."
Her words hit him harder than any blow he'd taken in battle. For a moment, he couldn't speak. He simply stared at her, this woman who had caused him so much frustration, and confusion, and… he couldn't deny it.
How fascinating...
Makima was a contradiction, a being of unfathomable power and intellect who could crush entire armies without blinking, yet here she was, perched on his lap, her touch impossibly gentle, her words digging into the parts of him he thought were long buried in his soul.
"I must be a fool." He let out a disbelief sigh, though his tone held no real malice. His hands tightened slightly on her hips as if to ground himself in the moment.
Makima leaned in, her face so close now that her nose brushed against his. "Maybe." she whispered, asserting dominance over the situation between the two of them. "But you're my fool."
"You really are impossible." He muttered again, though his voice lacked its earlier edge.
She tilted her head slightly, her smile deepening. "Yet, you haven't pushed me away."
He sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he let the weight of her presence sink into him. "Maybe I'm just too tired to fight you anymore."
Makima chuckled softly, the sound warm and almost musical. "Or maybe you're starting to trust me again."
"That's a dangerous assumption." He sighed, though the corners of his lips twitched upward in the faintest hint of a smile. "You're not exactly the easiest person to trust."
Her expression sobered slightly, her golden eyes fixated on his. "I know I've given you reasons to doubt me. And I've… hurt you, even if I didn't intend to."
She paused, her gaze dropping for the briefest moment before returning to his. "But I don't want to be that person to you anymore."
The vulnerability in her words, in her entire demeanor, was so unlike her that it left him momentarily speechless. She wasn't manipulating him, wasn't playing a game or weaving one of her intricate plans.
Simply put, she was just… a lady whose name is Makima. She wasn't just power and control, she was flawed, uncertain, and perhaps just as lost as he was.
"Makima." he began, his voice softer now. "You don't have to try so hard to prove something to me. Just… be here. Like this. That's enough." Indeed, for him, that was enough.
Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might cry. Instead, she leaned forward again, her arms wrapping around his neck as she rested her forehead against his.
"You call me impossible but you always make my heart beat in an odd rhythm, Veilhem-san. I like that part of you maybe a little too much." she whispered, her breath warm against his lips.
Veilhem closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the moment wash over them. For now, there were no expectations, no battles to fight, or burdens to bear. The two of them, broken yet untethered, tangled in the fragile intimacy of a moment neither of them dared to break.
Makima's oversized shirt slipped further off her shoulder, revealing more of her pale, flawless skin in the dim glow of the room. Veilhem's eyes darted away, his resolve wavering against the closeness between them. Yet Makima was undeterred, her crimson hair framing her face as she tilted her head to meet his gaze.
Without a word, she bent her body forward in and, her lips brushing lightly against his in a kiss that was soft yet deliberate. It caught him off guard, the warmth of her mouth sending a jolt through his system.
Her kiss was gentle, exploring, before she playfully bit at his lower lip, her hands sliding to his shoulders. Her fingers curled, gripping him with a quiet desperation that mirrored something she didn't dare say aloud.
For a moment, Veilhem froze, his mind scrambling to process this sudden intimacy from Makima. But instinct soon overrode hesitation, and he tilted his head forward to deepen the kiss.
His arms circled her waist, pulling her closer as though he could attach himself to the warmth of her body. Her touch, her presence, melted the weight of his burdens, if only for these fleeting moments.
Makima's delicate fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently as their kiss grew more impassioned. She shifted in his lap, her thighs tightening around him, the movement leaving him breathless.
Veilhem's calloused hands roamed over her back, brushing against the soft fabric of her shirt and the even softer skin beneath. It sent a joint through her body each time he did that, but perhaps she was already addicted to this.
When they finally pulled apart, their breaths mingled in the quiet air, a trail of saliva dangling as they parted. Makima's cheeks were flushed a soft crimson, her golden eyes half-closed with lust he rarely saw in her. She rested her forehead against his, her fingers trailing down to cup his face.
"You're not turning me away this time." She murmured, a teasing smile gracing her lips.
He chuckled at her muttered words, the sound carrying a warmth that softened the edge of his usual demeanor. Veilhem leaned in closer, his body pressing more firmly against hers. Gently, he brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen across her face, tucking them behind her ear with deliberate care.
His lips grazed her reddened earlobe, delivering a playful nip that sent a jolt of sensation coursing through her. She gasped, the sound involuntary, her body trembling in response to his teasing touch. It was as though her defenses crumbled, leaving her vulnerable to his every movement.
When they finally pulled apart, Makima's breath came in uneven and breathless, her chest rising and falling as though trying to catch up with the moment. Yet, a flicker of reluctance shadowed her eyes, hinting at an unspoken yearning.
A faint, self-assured smirk lingered on Veilhem's lips, though his hands, still firmly held onto her waist, betrayed his hesitation to release her. His voice, low and teasing, cut through the charged silence. "So, who's the one turning away now?"
Makima's laughter sounded, soft and unguarded, a sound that seemed to brighten the room. She tilted her head, her gaze locking onto his with a mixture of challenge and affection. "Good." she murmured, her tone laced with conviction. "Because I have no intention of letting you go."
She leaned in again, kissing him slower this time, savoring the connection. Their tongues moved together in a dance of warmth and yearning, their breath mingling as if the world outside ceased to exist. Her fingers traced along the edges of his scars, and Veilhem shivered slightly, her touch grounding him in place.
As their kiss deepened, their bodies pressed closer. The heat between them grew, a subtle intimacy that neither spoke of but both felt deeply.
When they finally parted again, Makima nestled against his chest, her cheek rubbing against his body, an action reminiscent of a cat. Her fingers began to trace the patterns of the roots stretching across his chest, her touch both curious and tender.
"Do you…" Her voice was soft, almost hesitant as her words trailed off into a whisper. She shifted slightly, her cheeks tinged with a blush. "...want to do it?" To be honest, she was a bit in heat right now and was already wet under there.
Instead of answering, Veilhem tightened his arms around her waist and underneath her smooth thighs, lifting her effortlessly. His hands held her securely with his strong arms, his strength steady yet gentle as he carried her to the bed.
Makima let out a small gasp as Veilhem laid her down with a gentleness that made her chest tighten. She looked up at him, her golden eyes filled with anticipation as she waited for what might come next. Her hair splayed across the pillows, a cascade of crimson against the white fabric, as she reached out to brush a hand against his cheek.
"The night is still young, my lady. We shall have some time without anyone bothering us." Veilhem chuckled as he stripped the only piece of clothing that was left on her body.
Makima gulped nervously as she seemed to have awakened a beast within him. Veilhem looked at her with a dangerous smile.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the sound of their heavy breathing and their flesh bodies collided with each other in the heat mixing with sweat and body fluid. It was not until dawn that the sound ceased.
Makima closed her eyes, a satisfied smile curling her lips as she let her exhausted body curl up next to him, using his arm as a pillow and locking one of his legs between her ample thighs. Veilhem remained awake, pulling her tired body toward him, who was too exhausted from last night.
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(A/N: GG, Get edged idiots, I'm not writing R-18. My boy gets laid, I'm so proud of him.)
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