The Vanguard Bureau building hummed with a low, almost imperceptible thrum, a constant undercurrent of hidden machinery and latent power. Within its concrete shell, Pulse slept. Sunlight, sharp and insistent, knifed through a gap in the blinds, painting a stark stripe across his face. He stirred, a groan rumbling deep in his chest, then blinked, eyes slitting open to the unfamiliar brightness.
The digital clock on his bedside table glowed 10:03 AM. A soft knock, then another, echoed through the quiet room.
"Come in." His voice, rough with sleep, scraped against his throat.
The door swung inward with a playful creak. Crystara stepped through, a wide, irreverent grin splitting her face. She balanced a tray laden with food, steam curling lazily from covered dishes. "Coming in, sleeping beauty." She navigated the cluttered space with practiced ease, placing the tray on his small, fold-out table.
Pulse pushed himself upright, running a hand through his tangled hair. His eyes widened at the spread. "Wow, you actually cooked for me. And… that's a bit much, I couldn't eat all that." A small mountain of fluffy pancakes, a bowl of fruit, crisp bacon, and a steaming mug of what smelled like spiced tea.
"Why, yes, my great Prince." She dipped into a mock curtsy, her crystal skin shimmering faintly in the morning light. "And don't worry, you don't have to force yourself to eat it all." She settled onto the edge of his bed, her presence a vibrant contrast to the stark room.
He speared a piece of bacon, offering it to her. She took it with a delicate bite. They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the clinking of cutlery the only sound.
"Wow, you're one great cook." He truly meant it, the flavors a pleasant surprise.
A proud smirk touched her lips. "Why, thank you, bitch."
Pulse's fork paused mid-air. He looked at her, his expression shifting, the easy humor fading to a serious contemplation. "You really wanted me to expand your core, huh."
Crystara's chewing slowed. Her gaze dropped to her plate, her usual flippancy replaced by a rare stillness. A long moment passed, punctuated only by the subtle hum of the building. When she finally spoke, her voice was softer, stripped of its usual bravado. "I just... maybe wanted more. I now have no more room to grow or get stronger. I can no longer feel like I'm getting stronger every day, like when I first got my powers. I already reached my full potential. I can no longer get more powerful." Her words were a quiet lament, a vulnerability she rarely displayed.
"Is there any other reason why you're so desperate to get stronger? I feel like there's more to it." His gaze was steady, probing.
She sighed, a small, almost imperceptible sound. "Well… other than also wanting to be as powerful as Muse. I also wanted to be just more, to be something. But hey, as desperate as I may seem, I'm not *that* desperate, alright? I'm just comfortable to go this far because it's *you* who would expand my core. If it was someone else, I would rather die." Her eyes met his, a flicker of raw trust in their depths.
Pulse let out a heavy sigh, the sound escaping his lips like a deflating balloon. "Fine. Let's eat, then we can start."
A bright, triumphant grin spread across her face, chasing away the earlier shadow. "Thanks, my vibrator bitch." A burst of laughter, clear and uninhibited, filled the room.
"Oh, shut up." He shook his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
They finished their meal, the plates clattering as they stacked them. Then, in an unspoken agreement, they carried them to the kitchenette, the quiet domesticity a strange prelude to the intensity that awaited them. They washed the dishes side by side, the warm water and clinking porcelain a stark contrast to the profound shift they were about to undertake.
Back in Pulse's room, the air felt thicker, charged with anticipation. "Lay flat on the bed," he instructed, his voice low, devoid of its usual playful edge. Crystara complied, stretching out on her back, her bright clothing a splash of color against the muted sheets. Pulse sat beside her, the mattress dipping under his weight.
He sighed again, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to carry the weight of his responsibility. "Okay, let's start. No matter what happens, don't ever move or interrupt me. You can scream or anything, but do not ever shove or suddenly stand and run away." His eyes, usually veiled by apathy, were sharp, focused.
"Okay." Her voice was a mere whisper, her usual bravado completely absent.
Pulse slowly pressed his hand against the small of her back, his fingers spreading wide, covering the smooth, cool surface of her smooth skin. A low hum began, a subtle tremor that emanated from his palm and seeped into her. He activated his vibration powers, a focused energy beginning to permeate her very being. Crystara's breath hitched. She turned her head, burying her face into the pillow, a desperate attempt to muffle the sounds she knew would escape.
Through the intricate dance of vibrations, Pulse's senses expanded. He could see the delicate network of her organs, a shimmering, complex tapestry within her body. His focused energy traced pathways, mapping her internal landscape until he found it, the resonance core, a pulsating, luminous sphere nestled deep within her. It hummed with a unique frequency, a signature of her power. With intense concentration, he modulated his own vibrations, matching her core's resonance, then slowly, meticulously, began to apply pressure. He sought to break through its existing structure, to expand its very essence, without causing pain.
Instead of agony, a sensation bloomed within Crystara. A wave of intense euphoria, hot and ethereal, surged through her, starting from the point of his touch and spreading rapidly, engulfing her entire body. Her arms and legs twitched, a subtle, involuntary dance against the sheets. A moan, raw and guttural, tore from her throat, escaping the pillow's muffling embrace. It quickly morphed into a string of curses, half-formed words of disbelief and overwhelming pleasure.
"I think I already came two fucking times now, holy shit, fuck!" Her voice was strained, breathless, laced with an almost frantic joy. Her body arched, a silent testament to the exquisite torment.
Pulse, however, remained oblivious to her cries, his mind a singular point of focus. The delicate work of breaking through the core demanded his complete attention, every iota of his will directed towards the intricate task. He matched the core's rhythm, then pushed, a slow, deliberate expansion. Finally, a subtle shift. He felt the barrier give way, a silent crack in the energetic structure. He had copied the resonance, understood its fundamental nature. Now, he could begin the expansion.
"Finally." He muttered, a low, satisfied sound. "I'll now expand your core. Hopefully, my theory of expanding resonance cores is correct, Crystara."
He poured more energy into the expansion, a steady, powerful surge. The resonance core within Crystara blossomed, growing larger, brighter. A scream ripped from her, sharp and piercing, a terrifying symphony of desperation and extreme ecstasy. Her body thrashed, a wild, uncontrolled expression of the overwhelming sensations.
"Hold for a while, Crystara." Pulse's lips curved into a tight smile. He could feel the core expanding, its resonance strengthening, its energy surging, becoming a torrent of raw power. "We are getting close, Crystara." He carefully moderated the expansion, a delicate balance. He didn't want to overdo it, to push her beyond her limits. Too much of anything, as the old saying went, often led to a bad ending.
Crystara's hands, shaking uncontrollably, fumbled for purchase. They found his legs, then instinctively, desperately, clawed their way up his thigh, her fingers closing around his crotch. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, stared at the bulge in his pants, a thin string of drool escaping the corner of her mouth. Her whole body trembled, a violent tremor that shook the bed.
Pulse kept his composure, his concentration unbroken, even as her fingers kneaded him through the fabric. Her moans intensified, a guttural hum that vibrated against his skin.
"We are close to finishing, Crystara. Just hold it for a while." He kept his voice even, his focus unwavering. After several minutes or maybe an hour of this exquisite, agonizing euphoria, he finally pulled his hand away, severing the energetic connection. The ecstasy, abrupt and complete, vanished. Crystara went limp, collapsing onto the bed, her chest heaving, gasping for air.
"I recommend not using your powers for a while, Crystara." He stated, his voice a little hoarse. "I kinda stretched your core, and now it might be twice or thrice the size of your original core's size."
Crystara opened her mouth, a garbled sound escaping, but before she could form a coherent word, her eyes rolled back. She passed out, utterly spent, a faint smile still lingering on her lips.
Pulse immediately adjusted her position, gently turning her onto her side. His gaze drifted downwards, lingering on her form. Her skimpy clothes, now disheveled, clung to her damp skin. His eyes fixed on her crotch, a dark, wet patch blooming on the fabric of her booty shorts. A jolt, hot and insistent, shot through him. He felt a primal urge, a sudden, overwhelming desire to simply take her, right then and there. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe, to quell the rising tide of lust.
He left the room, returning moments later with a soft, clean towel. He carefully placed it under her hips, absorbing the moisture. Then, he gently scooped her up, her body surprisingly light in his arms. He carried her to her own room, the short journey a silent testament to his control. He laid her on her bed, pulling the covers over her, a strange tenderness in his movements.
He returned to his room, stripping the damp sheets from his bed. He carried them to the laundry room, the rhythmic slosh of the washing machine a dull backdrop to his thoughts.
A growl rumbled in his stomach. Cooking, however, was not his forte. Eggs and noodles were the extent of his culinary skills. He pulled out his comms unit and ordered takeout, the mundane act a stark contrast to the cosmic engineering he had just performed.
It was late afternoon when Crystara finally stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, then snapped shut again, a groan escaping her. A distinct stickiness on her crotch drew her attention. "Damn." She muttered, her voice still raspy. She pushed herself up, a dull ache throbbing between her legs, but also a strange, exhilarating lightness. She peeled off her soiled clothes, tossing them aside, then quickly changed into fresh ones.
She found Pulse in the kitchenette, leaning against the counter, absorbed in a video on his comms unit. A low chuckle escaped him, then another, a sound of genuine amusement.
He looked up as she entered, his expression instantly shifting. He straightened, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Are you alright?" He moved with practiced efficiency, pulling out a bottle of water, a protein bar, and a small packet of pain relievers. "Here, food, drinks, and medicine if you're feeling unwell."
Crystara's lips curved into a slow, languid smile. "I'm alright, my Prince Charming." Her eyes, however, held a mischievous glint. "But it seems you went full-on caveman on my pussy, huh? My crotch was like entirely covered by your cum. Was I too fucking loose? Or was I too tight since I'm still a virgin?"
Pulse blinked, a genuine look of surprise on his face. "I didn't touch you though." He paused, then added, "Well, except when I lifted you up and put you on your own bed."
"Really? That's it?" Her voice held a hint of disappointment, a playful pout on her lips.
"Yeah. Like hell I'd touch you while you're unconscious." He shook his head, a faint flush creeping up his neck.
"But like, if your partner is fucking you so hard even when you're unconscious, seems so hot." She mused, a dreamy expression on her face.
"How the fuck could you say that, huh? You said it yourself, you're a virgin." He crossed his arms, an exasperated sigh escaping him.
"I used toys though." She countered, a small shrug of her shoulders.
"Okay, this discussion is enough." He threw his hands up in defeat, a wry smile touching his lips. "But it's so fucking funny how open you are to me." He turned to leave, but her hand shot out, catching his wrist.
She pulled him back, her gaze intense. Her hand, cool and smooth, guided his own, placing it a mere two inches from her chest, hovering just above the swell of her breast. "Am I unattractive?" Her voice was low, serious, the playful bravado momentarily gone.
Their eyes locked, a silent conversation passing between them. The air crackled with unspoken tension, a fragile bridge between their usual banter and the raw honesty of the moment.
"The more you touch me, the more you treat me." Her voice, though soft, held a fierce conviction. "The more I want to be with you. Even if we're not official, even if you like someone else… I just want to be with you, Pulse." Her grip tightened on his hand, her crystal skin cool against his.
"Crystara… that might be too much." He began, his voice hesitant, a sudden awkwardness in his posture. "This might also be a side effect of my powers on you, Crystara, so let's calm down." He tried to rationalize, to put a logical distance between them.
"It's not." She shook her head, a defiant glint in her eyes. "But even if it is. This is the most exciting and the most beautiful thing I ever experience every time you touch me. It's beautiful and it's addicting. Please, Pulse, you don't even have to love me. You can use me as much as you want, but I want you to treat me fair and with care." Her words hung in the air, a raw, vulnerable offering.
Pulse's gaze softened. He slowly, deliberately, moved his hand the remaining two inches, his palm settling over the soft curve of her breast. A low hum, a faint vibration, emanated from his touch. Her nipple, hard and erect beneath the fabric, pressed into his palm. He began to fondle her, his thumb tracing slow circles over the sensitive peak.
A soft gasp escaped her lips. Her eyes, half-lidded, fixed on his. "How about you use two of your hands?" Her voice was thick, husky with desire.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. A low groan rumbled in his chest as he captured her mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss. His tongue, warm and insistent, traced the seam of her lips, then slipped inside, meeting hers in a dance of burgeoning passion. His other hand, as if on cue, found its twin, cupping her other breast, thumbs teasing both nipples into exquisite peaks. He deepened the kiss, a soft shlick of their tongues, a gentle suction, as the world outside their embrace faded into a distant hum.