Art's expression hardened. He grabbed her hair, pulling her head down forcefully onto his cock. A muffled moan escaped Emery's lips as she struggled to breathe. He released her after a moment, and she gasped for air, her eyes tearing up. Art knelt, unbuttoning her short skirt and pulling it down, his fingers exploring her intimately as she leaned against a glass wall. "I hope no one sees us," she thought, breathless. Art stood, a grin spreading across his face as he positioned himself behind her, his massive cock pressing against her warmth. A sigh escaped her lips; the feeling was intense.
Art's grin widened as he positioned himself, his cock pressing against Emery. "It's so warm," she moaned, a breathy sound that sent a thrill through him. He slowly guided his cock into her, feeling her muscles yield and embrace him. A low "mmm" escaped her lips, quickly escalating into louder, more urgent moans. Her hands, pressed helplessly against the cool glass, trembled with each thrust. Art's movements became more forceful, his hips driving deep inside her. "Aaah…aah…" she cried out, her voice a mixture of pain and pleasure. The rhythm intensified, the sounds of their coupling filling the air.
[+50 Desire Points]
"Fuck~ I don't give a fuck about that~..." Emery continued to moan, her face still pressed against the wall, lost in the overwhelming sensation.
The world twisted. Reality bent like a warped mirror.
Everything Art, the maze it was all gone.
Emery dropped to her knees as the surroundings solidified. Her breath hitched as her eyes scanned the familiar walls and worn floorboards.
"This... this is my house," she whispered, her voice trembling. Her lips quivered as the weight of memory crashed down on her.
She stood in the lounge, surrounded by the ghost of her past. The old wooden house looked exactly the same aged with time but untouched by it. It felt like she had stepped into a moment preserved in amber, unchanged since the day she ran away.
Her feet moved on their own as she walked toward the kitchen. There, at the sink, her mother stood with her back turned, washing dishes in a slow, rhythmic motion.
"M-Mom...?" Emery's voice cracked. "What are you doing here...? No what am I doing here?"
Confusion clawed at her chest, but before she could say more, a creak echoed from the hallway. She turned sharply.
Her father's head peeked out of the restroom, eyes shifting nervously.
Her heart froze. "D-Dad... what are you doing...?" Her voice dropped, then flared with fury as realization struck. "Are you peeking at someone again?!"
"Fuck! Not again!" she screamed.
She rushed toward her mother, reaching out to stop her, to warn her but her hand passed right through her mother's shoulder, like smoke.
"What...?" Emery gasped.
Panic welled in her throat. She touched the table, the counter, even the curtain by the window. Everything solid in appearance was intangible.
A haunting truth settled in her bones:
She was a phantom here. A mere observer of a memory she thought she had buried.
As Emery began to walk, she felt a warm sensation between her thighs remnants of her earlier intimacy with Art. Her breath hitched. She broke into a run, heading toward the hallway toward the door where her father had once peeked.
She didn't stop.
Her body phased through the door like mist, and what she saw inside made her freeze.
Her eyes widened.
There standing alone in that room—was her younger self.
Tears welled up instantly, unbidden, uncontrollable. Her knees buckled. A broken sound escaped her lips.
"Ah… a-ahhh!!"
The scream tore from her chest, echoing through the memory like thunder.
And then darkness.
She gasped awake.
Her vision swam before settling. She was lying down, and in front of her… was Art.
"Hey," he said softly, brushing her hair back. "Are you okay? You… fell asleep while I was still, um, going at it…"
He looked worried.
Tears still shimmered in Emery's eyes, but they were falling slower now. Without a word, she reached out and pulled him into a sudden embrace.
"Oh…" Art murmured, surprised.
His hands hovered in hesitation, then slowly wrapped around her. His right hand patted her back gently.
"It's okay. I'm here…" he whispered.
Inside, his thoughts raced.
Shit… what do I even do?
"What happened?" he asked quietly, though part of him already guessed.
It must've been a nightmare…
"I'll stay with you for a while," he added, his voice low, steady.