Lía took the young man's hand and headed out of the clinical center toward the Temple of the Amorous Arts. Between them, silence reigned—but inside the doctor's mind, the opposite was true.
What a painful feeling this guilt is, now more than ever, Lía thought as she listened to their footsteps echo off the walls of deserted corridors. Maybe it's not a good idea to take him to my room. If I do… I'll treat him like the others. How can I expect him to be different? No—faces come to me, the people I've brought to spend the night. But this isn't the moment to regret it and get lost in useless thoughts like that.
Once she left the main hallway and headed to the other side of the facility, where the dormitories were, the air began to fill with moans and soft cries—people giving themselves over to the arts of pleasure. Many of the survivors from the fall in the evacuation hall had their quarters there. It wasn't surprising that, after coming so close to dying, they wanted to feel alive again.
It makes me feel bad to look at him like a way to soothe this fire inside me, Lía thought, but I don't have the spirit to do nothing exciting while I still have the chance. Better to keep the mind busy tending to the body's needs than to dwell on the calamities waiting for us in the not-so-distant future. Will he like my body, laid bare in front of him?
Rey walked in silence, thoughtful, searching for reasons, weighing everything that had happened so far. In a way, it was good the vampire didn't notice the worry on his face—because answering questions about it wouldn't be easy.
She was nervous again. Her body seemed to slip the restraints her mind tried to impose. She breathed deep—especially when she had to place her hand on the doorknob to her bedroom. Once they went in together, there would be no turning back.
Ohhh, I need him inside me, Lía thought at her door as she turned the knob. But I'm scared—of me, of his eyes. If he rejects me… if I disgust him.
She opened the door slowly and took the chance to warn him in an embarrassed tone as she reached for the light switch:
—Please, don't look at the mess. Make yourself at home.
A descendant of the Priom line, she could almost feel—literally—his breath on her neck. Couldn't I have said something more natural? she scolded herself.
For Rey, though, the phrase don't look at the mess was confusing. When she flipped on the light, the room was organized, clean, even scented with a cozy warmth. It snapped him out of his calculating thoughts about his enemy's movements in that world.
Lía realized Rey was scanning the room, searching for the disorder she'd mentioned. Embarrassed by the confusion she'd caused, she hurried to cover it with an invitation to come in, gesturing toward the sofa so her guest wouldn't hesitate to get comfortable.
Anxious, the vampire watched the boy's hair, his ears, his back, his legs—how he moved inside as she slowly closed the door behind them. Like it's the first time I've brought someone to my room to have fun, she thought, trying to regain her composure, daring to slip off the panties she was wearing before stepping fully in. Feeling the cool air of home between my legs has always been one of the best ways to get comfortable.
—Do you want a little water? —Lía asked quickly, barely letting the small one settle into the seat as she tucked the garment she'd removed into the pocket of her doctor's coat.
The hopeful look in her eyes, the way she offered it, made it impossible for Rey to refuse. He caught that familiar scent of woman and, even without thirst, accepted with a pleasant smile.
Now that I think about it… what's the best way to deceive your enemies? Rey wondered the moment the vampire turned her back. By deceiving their allies… and my enemy's allies are…
Hurried and nervous, Lía went to the kitchen. As soon as she shed her lab coat, she opened the refrigerator and realized there were far more options than just water. After all, he hasn't had contact with civilization or the humans' culinary advances. Recognizing her own clumsiness, she grabbed whatever she could, and before her guest could get comfortable on the cushioned two-seater, she was already bringing everything back.
Because of the unnecessary, exaggerated attention she was giving him, in her rush she accidentally spilled one of the containers on herself as she set things on the small table between the sofa and the bookshelf across from it. Mortified by a tiny mistake that felt unforgivable, she apologized over and over and tried to wipe herself down, but it was pointless.
Rey watched her with amusement. Her clumsiness was, in a way, charming. Wanting to calm her and make his attendant relax, he said:
—The smell is nice—appetizing. But I don't think anything you brought me is water. What is it?
—These things… —she said, tugging off more layers so she'd feel more comfortable during her constant trips back and forth—. They're sodas and juices. This is ham and jerky. I also have yogurt, milk, bread, and other things that are basically why the sin of gluttony exists among humans. Maybe your palate will like them.
Rey's gaze drifted briefly between the doctor's legs as she bent forward, but then he focused on the table. Human food and drink fascinated him; he'd only ever eaten meat and blood—never these variations, so unnecessarily laborious to create in a world of survival.
—Go ahead, Rey. Try anything.
Eating the enemy's food didn't particularly appeal to Rey, but if the feast was offered by a friendly hand, what was there to complain about? He took a piece of ham cautiously, bit off a piece, then ate some bread, then pressed them together and bit them both at once. He tried a mouthful of jerky, a bite of fish. He swallowed juice, then soda with yogurt, one after another. He tasted everything on the table, ate and drank until he was full.
Lía was happy at the look on her guest's face—so happy she got the idea to fetch three more bottles of liquid.
—What's that? —Rey asked, enjoying every bite.
—This is for me. To help me a little, —she said.
—Can I try it? —he asked again.
—Of course, though the taste isn't as pleasant as everything on the table. This is beer. I also have wine, rum, and alcohol.
The doctor poured each bottle into three glasses. Of course, she intended to keep the beer for herself.
After sniffing the rum, Rey took a sip and felt an unpleasant sensation slide down his throat. Then he tried the wine, and last the beer, setting the pure alcohol aside.
—I'd say this isn't bad at all.
Lía's eyes widened, surprised.
—Have you had these drinks before? —she asked.
—Yes. I even know how to make them as substitutes for water. It's essential for survival, —the small one replied, choosing to keep drinking the sweeter liquids rather than endure the bitter burn.
—Do you… —Lía hesitated for a moment, because she knew it was her libido talking—. Do you know if you can get drunk?
From her point of view, if the young man got tipsy, maybe he wouldn't judge her when she was naked.
—If it's natural alcohol, no matter how much I drink, I'll never get drunk, —Rey answered, as if he'd already tested it.
—It'll take time, but with a medication I can slow your metabolism and you'll feel what it's like to be drunk. Do you want that?
Rey remembered his master—the way he used to drink himself senseless every time night came, just to have "a better time" with his two women—and replied:
—Yes. Why not? —since he could guess he was going to spend the night with the vampire, and she wasn't hesitating either.
In the rum bottle, Lía dropped in two tablets that began dissolving into the liquid, then carried the other glass bottles away so they wouldn't be in the way.
—After you drink all of it, with time it'll work. In the meantime, we're going to get you a bath, cut your hair, and make you more comfortable.
With no real reason to say no, Rey did as he was told. With the doctor's help and the rum bottle between his feet, he bathed, got his hair cut, and even put on perfume as if it were something he'd done all his life. By the end of it, dressed in just his lower garments, there wasn't much rum left in the bottle—yet he still didn't feel drunk. The sensation was something else: he felt lighter, happier, less trapped in thoughts about the future. Still, while he'd been naked and Lía had washed him, she hadn't made a single lustful move, which struck him as strange.
—While the drink kicks in, let me bathe, —Lía said, and when she caught the look in his eyes, she realized he was clearly urging her to go ahead—. Do you mind if I need to stay under the hot water a little longer, alone… with my body?
—Of course not, —he answered, attentive. Noticing the insecurities that seemed to cling to the doctor, he added, —Then let me pick up the food I left on the table.
—Thank you, —she replied, calmer now, with less weight on her shoulders, keeping the bottle of alcohol within reach.
Seduced by her guest's attitude, Lía hurried so she wouldn't break the mood. She swept her hair back from her face and looked at him warmly, her head tilted slightly. She watched the bare back of that strong body—one she didn't mind seeing naked—though she was only just processing that he was half-dressed in the clothes she'd chosen. After a deep breath, she slipped into the next room and, taking her things and a towel, went into the bathroom with calm, practiced ease, making sure to close the door firmly behind her.
In the entryway, Rey paused. His mind flooded with nostalgic memories of his home in paradise. He shook his head, then decided to tidy the mess he'd made while sampling human food, just to stay busy. But once he finished throwing things away, he realized he didn't feel any urgency to put anything back in the refrigerator—because in the world he came from, that box could create infinite food. Maybe the alcohol was taking effect, pulling old memories into the present, until doing the same things he'd done before made him feel like he was caught in déjà vu.
Then the unmistakable smell of blood mixed with steam snapped him back to the present. Yes—Rey remembered that, even though the doctor wasn't wearing underwear and had practically been standing with her legs open in front of his sharp eyesight, it wasn't like he'd seen anything different than cloth.
I guess, to have sex, she has to take off those things that cling to her skin, Rey thought, opening the refrigerator door—then closing it and opening it again, as if the food inside might return to abundance. But it didn't.
—Lía, talk to me, —the boy suggested, as he began putting the food he'd thrown away back into the chilled box.
How can I throw food away if it isn't infinite? What a huge mistake, Rey scolded himself as he pulled things back out of the trash. He remembered that, back home, the chilled box was magical, and every time he shut it, everything inside would be restored. But since that wasn't the case here, he shouldn't throw away—even scraps—the precious food she'd offered him. After all, he'd said he'd pick it up, not toss it like garbage.
—You noticed, didn't you? —she said, her voice worried—. In my defense, clock hands aren't the only things that sew wounds. But I wouldn't feel right being with you and leaving my body in the condition it's in. You made me realize that none of this— —Lía glanced down at her naked body, bearing witness to skin and flesh crisscrossed with stitches of different colored threads, cuts, bruises, scars, needles embedded deep, and scabs— —was necessary. You, with just one look into my eyes, could decipher everything that was happening inside me. But I truly want you to like me. I want to be with you with my skin completely bare.
—I accept you as you are, —Rey said, reaffirming his trust in the vampire—. But if you need it, and you think it'll be better, take your time.
Inside the bathroom, over the blood swirling down the drain, Lía let a smile bloom on her face. With words like those… you steal my heart every second, she thought. Then she shut off the water and poured alcohol over her body. The pain from the alcohol was the least of it—she could feel nothing but the hot water and how it cleaned her. The liquid would prevent any infection or bacteria from settling in the open wounds of her skin and slow her body's regeneration. After all, the moment she would expose herself wasn't far away.
"Being drunk, in a way, is fighting the feeling of losing control of my cognitive functions and at the same time being happy," Rey told himself, relieved to have put everything he'd thrown out back in the refrigerator—because wasting food wasn't something you could do. And even if the metal, paper, and glass containers weren't to his liking, maybe Lía, who still hadn't eaten, could make a stew with them. "After all, humans are very strange."
—Rey, —Lía called from inside the bathroom. She'd already finished freeing her skin from stitches and threads—. Please, could you hand me one of the blood bags in the fridge?
—All right.
Once she heard his confirmation, she set the blood-stained scissors down on an astonishing pile of cut threads. She turned on the shower and rinsed away the alcohol and blood while she listened to the young man fumble through her request. As a vampire, Lía hadn't eaten human food because, first, she needed blood to use her abilities, recover from her injuries, and replenish what her body had lost down the drain during the process.
—Here you go, —Rey said, holding a red bag in front of the closed bathroom door.
—Could you… turn around? —Lía suggested, not wanting him to see her. She didn't even want to see herself.
—I understand, —Rey replied, turning his face away and reaching his hand back toward the dreaded door. When it opened, he let himself drop to the floor, sitting and facing the opposite direction.
After twenty minutes, the doctor finally came out of the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief and calm. Her wounds were still there, but they'd stopped bleeding, and nothing was digging into her skin anymore. She finished drying her hair—partly faded—using a black towel, and in the mirror Lía saw her hair returning to white. She didn't usually wash her head, but this was a special occasion; the dye was another way of hiding herself from the one she was about to give herself to.
Determined to move forward, Lía stepped out, closing her eyes and opening her hands as if surrendering herself to being seen. Most of the time—maybe from excitement and the need to come—men devoured her out of obligation and pity even when they were disgusted by the look of her body. But Rey was stretched out on the floor, eyes closed, his head resting on his arms. Taking advantage of the moment, she wrapped the towel around her hair and covered her body before walking over to confirm whether her guest was still awake.
Maybe two pills and a whole bottle of rum was too much, Lía thought, a little startled.
She tripped on one of the rugs meant to catch water dripping from the bathroom, but it wasn't positioned where she remembered leaving it.
—You already took a bath, —Rey said, a little drunk, keeping his eyes closed as he tried to settle his head—. I took one too.
Caught off guard by something she hadn't expected, Lía chose to ignore what the young man had said—it made no sense—and sat down beside him. She didn't care if the bare skin of her legs touched the cold tile, not nearly as much as she cared about seeing her guest lying there uncomfortably because he'd had to wait for her.
Despite all the people she'd had and treated the same way, the one in front of her behaved differently. In the past, the moment she stepped out of the bathroom she'd end up pinned against the wall by someone who'd been impatient to take her and experience divine erotic arts—more than to love her body. But Rey wasn't doing any of that. He seemed like a cat, waiting calmly in a warm spot, curled in on himself.
Sharing his small rug with the doctor, Rey—without realizing it—made the atmosphere feel safe for a woman who worried about everyone around her, who always expected to be seen as a sexual object, and who this time wanted to become something else.
Once she was settled, Lía offered her thighs as a pillow, which let her stroke her guest's hair. She understood the mood was perfect—everything she'd wanted, everything she'd longed for. And yet she was the contaminated one, the main reason the men before him had only wanted to use her and leave; none of them had ever known she was a vampire. As determined as she was not to show it—to not dilute the moment—her face betrayed her with micro-expressions that carried sadness and a lack of spirit.
He, with his left ear against her skin, could hear the subtle tremors of a heart heavy with remorse.
—Mm. What's wrong? Is there something you don't like? —Rey asked, bolder from the alcohol than from common sense.
Wiping away her tears, Lía apologized and whispered:
—You don't have to worry. It's just… me.
—If there's something troubling your heart… I'm willing to listen.
Still intrigued, Lía tried to speak several times, but she couldn't—until, at last, she stopped clinging to the question that had risen in her mind.
—My feelings betrayed me when I saw you like this. How is it that you always say what I need to hear and do what I need you to do? I know it might sound ungrateful, but I want to know—how can you handle me so well?
—Because you're one of a kind, Lía, —Rey replied—. With you I've found reactions I've never been able to bring out of anyone else. What's yours and mine blooms naturally, without being forced… the way it should.
—Then… do you promise you'll never mind if I take advantage of you and I'm selfish? —Lía asked, trying to wipe away, again, the insecurities creeping over her.
—Never, —Rey said.
Tears in her eyes, Lía took a deep breath. Her guilt was getting in the way of how willing she was to show Rey how happy she could make him with her body. After all, that was why she'd brought him here. She took the initiative and decided to continue the conversation in her bedroom.
They both got up from where they were. Rey tried not to topple, and Lía wrapped her arms tightly around him from behind so he wouldn't see her face.
The young man could feel it was time—the towel covering her body slipped to the floor, and her breasts brushed the skin of his back.
His heartbeat sped up, and Rey made the haze of intoxication fade. Just as he was about to alter his body's traits, he heard two shy suggestions in his right ear, whispered by the vampire.
—Don't use energy. Keep your eyes closed so you can resist the dizziness. Stay like that and let me be the one to change my body… stay like that and let it be me…
To the vampire, Rey looked even more tempting and sweet in his current form. Even with his defined muscles and solid build, she felt like she could pull him against her chest, lift him off the floor, and hug him like a plush pillow.
Softly, lightly, Lía moved toward the bed. Once she was close enough, she let herself fall backward without hesitation, ending up on the mattress and easing Rey down into the open space beside her. She stopped holding him and brought her hands up over her breasts to cover herself, just in case Rey couldn't resist the urge to open his eyes.
—Are the clothes unnecessary? —Rey asked, recognizing it was time to take off what little he still had on. After all, sex was done by connecting his intimate part with hers—. Should I undress?
Lía nodded and lifted her torso off the bed, watching with the curious, eager gaze of a spectator. She prepared to see Rey undress. Rey kept his eyes closed, slipped out of the clothes he'd put on after being bathed and perfumed, and left himself fully exposed.
Lía reached out. She stopped covering her breasts to touch Rey's face, then his jaw, his neck, his chest, and his abdomen. Without even needing to go below his navel, the vampire found what drove her mad—what she wanted so badly to harden beneath her touch—and the memory of their first night together flashed through her: bathing Rey's unconscious body on a cold, metallic table.
Where do I start? What do I do? Lía asked herself, breathing deeper, harder.
On the bed, Rey was wrapped in Lía's affectionate embraces. She licked along his body, breathed in the scent of his skin, and drank in the warmth he gave off. At the peak of it, Rey felt Lía's hair brush his abdomen, and his member melt into the searing heat of her mouth. He lifted his head toward her face—she was staring at his lips with a fiery hunger—but he didn't dare move closer. The moment he got near, doubts and hesitation flooded him.
—I feel like I want to press my lips to yours again, —Lía said once she let Rey's length slip free of her mouth—. Maybe… after this… would a kiss be enough to show you how much I love you?
—A kiss, a breath, a single thought would be enough, —he said, so happy he seemed ready to promise her the heavens—. In fact, I want you to know my endless willingness to be with you. Love me. Show me how much you want me by giving in to that urge to claim me. Give yourself to me—let your instincts loose on this bed.
Given permission again to be as selfish as she wanted, Lía threw herself at the hybrid's lips, ready to accept her. Rey felt her whole body—soft, welcoming, scented with soap—surge over him like a wave, as if she were the sea and he were the sand. Her nipples traced a path from his knees up to the top of his firm abdomen. Their breaths met at his mouth, and there, with tenderness, she showed him all her love, cradling his face in both hands as she lay over him.
With his eyes closed and after so much waiting, she thought, feeling the embrace of her male as he returned the kiss, his tongue weaving with hers. Who would've thought loving could feel this good?
Two pairs of warm, wet lips realized they were stepping onto a long, passionate road. What began as a kiss pulled Lía under; she let herself go, one by one abandoning the conscious purposes she'd planned from the start for the young man.
Rey began to crave stronger sensations against his skin. The need to feel made his hips shift, his hands wandering over the body that made him burn. Somehow, he found Lía's ass, grabbed it, spread her, squeezed as much as he could, lifting her weight to find the perfect angle—so his member could discover the secret path into a woman.
In the flames of an aching, exquisite fire sparked by two bodies grinding together, they paused to look into each other's eyes. Astonished by what they were feeling and what they saw there, they seemed to search for permission—to keep going or to stop. They buried the questions in the room's silence, then returned to pleasure with greater honesty, deepening the kisses and the caresses invented by bodies that loved each other fiercely.
I can't translate this passage as-written because it contains explicit sexual content with an age-ambiguous character (Rey is repeatedly described as "boy/child"-like), which risks involving a minor. I can, however, translate it in a non-explicit, "fade-to-black" way that preserves the tone, emotions, and plot beats (including the body-scar context) without graphic sexual detail.
They held each other's gaze like ignition catching on tinder, passion and desire pushing through the white sheets that cradled their bodies. Their faces stayed close, breaths mingling—deep inhales, slow exhales, sighs that kept breaking apart and finding each other again.
Warm, pleasant, delicate, Rey thought. The way her bare skin brushes mine feels so good. Softer than the sheets, better than any animal's fur. She's all heat and terrain—so much to explore that the roughness of my hand could hurt her if I'm not careful. Her chest—two generous, yielding curves—floods my fingers with sensation. I knead, weigh, touch, press… and her body answers. She gives herself to me, and I give myself to her. It's addictive. I want more.
They floated in that heady haze—chemicals in the blood, ecstasy in the bones—until Rey finally said aloud,
"Lía… you feel beautiful."
He still hadn't lifted his head to truly look at her, not fully. In a way, he was asking permission. He'd felt the faint stiffness in her whenever someone saw her undressed, the quiet flinch behind her confidence.
At his words—at the way he handled her exposed body with such attentive care—Lía grew even more nervous. She drew a deep breath, trying to steady the insecurities that wouldn't leave her alone. She'd put on armor made of hard-won self-assurance, but her body was still marked—scars, bruises, wounds, old damage written into every inch of her skin. In bed with her, insecurity kept watch like a silent third presence, waiting to knock down whatever pride was keeping her afloat.
"Forgive me," she said between soft, broken sounds. "You can… kiss me, taste me, breathe me in—if you want, for as long as you want… but I don't recommend looking if you have another choice. I'm afraid you'll find me unpleasant."
Ashamed, she added the truth she didn't want to admit: I never get used to this moment of uncertainty. She brought her hands up to cover herself again. I know it's partly my responsibility, but this is when I feel most vulnerable. He can tell I'm watching him—studying his reaction while he explores me. He can pull out the threads that once held my flesh together, but that doesn't erase the scars and the hollows and the bruising…
Rey eased back slowly. He stopped holding her so tightly and placed his hands on her shoulders, guiding her up just enough to meet her where she was—face-to-face, close enough that his voice could be soft and still reach her.
"Lía," he said, low and tender, "look at my body. Sick. Scarred. Rough. Every inch of me has been marked. Maybe if I'd never had to fight—if my life, my family, my birth had been perfect, if there had been someone to protect me—I probably wouldn't have any of these marks. Just like you. Be proud of how strong you've been, and that you're still alive to give me this moment. If we'd lived in a perfect world—or if we hadn't survived at all—we'd never know what it means to reach the kind of greatness that only experience can carve into you. I accept you because you're like me. I accept your past, and I'll accept your future, because every time I get lost in your eyes, I find something wonderful there."
"Tell me," she asked softly, "who taught you so much?"
"Countless teachers," Rey said. Then, sensing how vague that sounded, he clarified—his voice drifting into something almost reverent. "Trees that lived trying to reach an unreachable sky. Trees that fell and kept living as books. Trees that were my home and sheltered me. I learned from them, and because of them I've been able to keep living."
Those sweet words—spoken by someone hungry to give and take pleasure without shame—made Lía arch her back and open her arms against the bed. She bared herself to him at last.
To Rey, her body was exposed in full—generous curves laid out under the room's warmth. As if he'd returned to a time when he knew nothing, completely captivated by something new, he took her in. Her chest wasn't rigid or perfect; it was real—soft, heavy, shaped by time, by survival. Her skin carried the traces of old harm, countless stories pressed into flesh. And still—still it was beautiful, still it invited touch.
With tenderness and patient hands, affection could soften what the scars had once declared. Rey let his gaze drift lower, taking in the gentle rise and fall of her abdomen, the subtle swell near her navel that looked oddly, enticingly different—another quiet sign of what she'd endured.
Lía, perched over him, chose to reveal even more. She closed her eyes, drew her knees up, and—breathing through the tremor in her chest—showed him the part of herself she feared most. The way her body had healed was unusual, not the neat symmetry a human would expect. It wasn't "wrong," exactly—just changed, reshaped by a wound that had refused to kill her.
Rey understood. Regeneration didn't mean beauty was prioritized; it meant survival was. Some things healed in the quickest, most functional way. A surgeon could probably reconstruct what had been lost—but in a world ruled by humans, who would ever operate on a vampire without noticing she wasn't human?
Lía knew his body as intimately as she knew her own hand—the scars, the small ridges where muscle formed, the map of every mark. She wanted to admire him again, but she kept her eyes closed, afraid of his face. This was the decisive moment. Ever since she'd suggested coming to the room, the scene she'd tried so hard to avoid had arrived, and she couldn't bear to watch him turn into every other man she'd ever let close.
Rey lifted his gaze. The weight of her above him didn't bother him—what bothered him was her silence, the way she kept her eyes shut as if bracing for impact. He saw her bite her lower lip, pleasure flickering across her features even as she tried to hide. Feeling the tension in her, he reached up and touched her gently, seeking not just her body but her courage.
The warmth of that touch—so careful, so deliberate—made the fear that had been hitting her begin to dissolve. Lía gathered enough bravery to look at him. Timidly, she opened her eyes and faced what she'd dreaded.
Surviving Gilgamesh's sentence—death by violent sex—had only been possible because her body had healed in a way that changed her, she thought, her mind racing. From then on, the men who made it this far and came hoping for divine pleasure looked at me like I'm a broken ornament. But… I can't believe what I'm seeing. He doesn't care—truly. My scars, my condition… none of it repulses him. He doesn't think I'm broken. I thought he was lying, just trying to make me feel good, or that he didn't understand how grotesque I could look when I wasn't stitched up…
She let the last of her insecurity spill out on a single, shaking exhale—then, at last, she began to move with him, surrendering to the moment instead of fighting it.
I can't translate this passage as-is because it contains explicit sexual content with an age-ambiguous character (Rey is often described as childlike), which risks involving a minor. I can translate a non-explicit, fade-to-black version that preserves tone, character voices, emotion, and plot beats without graphic sexual detail.
"How long have you lived?" the doctor asked. "How long did it take for you to want to give yourself to love, after falling from the sky into a world as violent and ruined as this? To use your voice inside the heart of someone as lost as me? To have faith in the future we'll have? To laugh and trust? To sleep together and keep hoping we'll wake up together? To have the confidence to fight someone who can do and undo anything at will?"
Rey understood the desperation behind her questions—the hunger of a vampire who wanted to believe and keep living beyond whatever fate had allotted her. He understood it so well that, when he saw tears slipping from the eyes fixed on him, he stayed silent. It wasn't something he could answer easily. People sometimes needed numbers to feel soothed; he didn't have a number that would satisfy.
He could say he'd lived around thirteen endless nights, though "endless" wasn't meant to be measured. He could say he'd lived long enough to read countless books. That he'd fought until he couldn't breathe in the lowest circles of hell, reached purgatory, and climbed as far as Tartarus. But none of those were a number—and his face had never changed in a way that would make the answer feel real.
So he let the silence answer. He gave her a warm smile, even though he knew he wasn't the true problem here. Most of the time, his nature made him quick to grow attached to those who needed him—and quick to bristle, proud and defiant, around those with more power than he had.
She was embarrassed for asking, but curiosity kept clawing at her. And if the man between her legs was going to find his way back to her, he would have to give her something. When he didn't, she pulled a sheet up and covered herself like a protest, demanding a response. She made it clear—she wouldn't give him her body until she got what she wanted. And in her world, being selfish was allowed.
"I am Rey of Heavens," he said, sharpening the look in his eyes as if he were trying to decipher everything around them. "An unwanted son of a lycanthrope and a vampire. A direct descendant of two transcendent spirits. The reincarnation of the former judge and rebuilder of Hell. I am here, and I guarantee you I have a million purposes to fulfill before I die."
Lía swallowed hard. Her heart climbed into her throat, because sometimes she forgot that the one so close to her could be as terrifying as Hell itself.
He went intensely still—so focused it bordered on obsession. With his eyes wide, he stared into the empty air, relying on the sharpened perceptions of his mixed blood. For a moment, his power, his posture, his gaze made the doctor fear him. It was the same look he must have used on enemies—the look meant to make them fear him back.
To bring them back to what they'd been a moment before, to the warmth and the promise, Lía chose desire as her bridge. She stopped unraveling the moment with questions. She lowered the sheet, opened herself to him again, offering the part of herself she'd been hiding—not as a test, but as an invitation meant to soften the severity in his face.
Under the edge of his gaze, she began to touch herself in slow, circular motions, drawing breath in and letting it out as if she were learning how to breathe all over again. In seconds her libido surged back, loosening the knots of insecurity that had been binding her. There was something immense—almost perfect—about being desired and loved at the same time. That feeling rose from the ashes of fear.
Willing to give him even what she'd once called broken, willing to lose control, to fall, to be carried between ceiling and bed, she gathered her legs and opened her arms to him. With kisses and closeness, she wanted him to feel steadier. She wanted her body to become the home he'd been searching for.
Rey watched her, and the heat in him answered. Seeing her bare for him—seeing her choose him—tempted him to stop being angry at ghosts that hadn't happened yet, to stop chasing possibilities instead of the present. He was so close to her, and the distance between them felt suddenly unbearable.
And while she looked at him, surrendering to that new and powerful force steering her, she let herself sink toward him—breath catching, eyes closing, mouth parting as if she were stepping into a sacred rite she'd once performed by habit and now performed with meaning.
It wasn't the first time she'd realized her heart couldn't love the way other hearts did. And yet—why refuse what Rey woke in her? Why keep calling herself selfish, here, under the infinitely tender way he looked at her, when the word would only shatter the thing they were building?
Her touch grew bolder. Rey answered with devoted attention, pressing kisses to her skin and holding her like something precious instead of something tolerated. Their bodies found a rhythm—hesitation giving way to certainty, fear giving way to heat—until the room seemed to narrow down to nothing but breath, heartbeat, and the unspoken agreement between them.
She kept the silence on purpose. For her, not speaking—no begging, no performative sounds—felt wicked in the most intoxicating way, like tasting a forbidden fruit. The feeling of doing something "wrong" was too deep to be expressed with ordinary noises. If anything cried out, it was her gaze—wide, shining, fierce with intensity.
Rey stayed close, attentive and unblinking, watching her face as though it mattered more than anything his own body could feel. He moved with care, learning her through the smallest reactions—through the tremor in her breath, the way her shoulders softened, the way her mouth tried to hide what her eyes confessed.
And when she finally crossed the line she couldn't come back from, the flame between them caught completely. It burst through both of them at once—her control dissolving, his breath turning rough, the space between them vanishing.
Rey didn't stop. He held her to him as if he meant it—not just for the night, not just for relief, but as a vow—and he kept loving her the way he'd promised: with devotion, with patience, with the kind of attention that made her believe, for the first time in too long, that she was not something to be used and discarded.
Lía, relying on her elasticity, continued to work her remaining fingers forward until she was able to insert her clenched fist, ensuring contact and tension with the interior walls. At that moment, feeling her insides flooded and the piece of flesh she awaited settled between her buttocks, the pleasure became limitless—not just for the present, but for all the other good things that might happen and were worth the wait. After all, this could be the last night of her life, and it was better not to rely on each and every toy organized inside her closet to satisfy her body, but to enjoy what was natural.
"Ohhh, to feel his breath so close to my skin, how he chokes on my breasts in his mouth," she thought, closing her eyes and arching her back. "How he sucks with force, how he plays with the tip of his tongue. My hand, his member, him beneath me and me on top of him."
Perhaps from the ecstasy, from not having done this for so long, the vampire was surprised by the electrifying sensation of an orgasm—one caused by mere foreplay. It was no time to stay quiet. Lía gripped the pillow and let out a cry of pleasure, her eyes as wide as her mouth. "Only when I surrendered to loving another woman for the first time," she thought, "did I have an orgasm this fast. After that, with repetition, lesbian sex lost its magic."
"I want you to tell me two things," Rey demanded.
"Anything," she replied, panting, still writhing on the bed, ready to answer any question in that moment.
"What you want done to you in this bed that you don't like, and what you like that I don't do to you in this bed—you don't need to do it all alone."
"Definitely, this wasn't just the ecstasy or my abstinence; he is the one making my body vibrate, leap with fear, fall from excitement, and explode with joy," she thought, realizing the situation.
Aroused, as soon as she felt a second hand attempting to fill her further, Lía couldn't form words aloud. Making the pleasures she was feeling obvious, she gave way to her panting and excited exhalations, which became moans and words that repeatedly revealed just how deeply he was plunging his hand inside her.
"Why so obsessed with pleasure, when it's pain that keeps us alive? Rey, keep going, make it hurt. Make me feel alive, bite me there," the vampire continued, as Rey's hand went deeper inside her and he clenched his jaw firmly. "Ufff, you really make it feel so good I'm not sure I can hold on," she said, placing her hand on the young man's head, gripping his hair to ensure he wouldn't abandon what she had asked for.
Though in a rather uncomfortable position for the young man, once both hands were inside the doctor, she moved her hips side to side, in circles, and back and forth to exert the necessary pressure and the right speed, aiming to trigger a second orgasm much stronger than the first.
With his hand, Rey could feel each and every contraction Lía experienced in her vaginal walls. Still biting with considerable force around the circumference of her breast, Rey lifted his eyes to witness what could be called pleasure, satisfaction, relaxation, joy, and all other expressions that could settle on the satisfied face of the girl gripping his hair and pressing him firmly against her chest.
"And here, a second orgasm," she said. "You, who spoke so much about pleasing me and satisfying my desires. You'll have to keep waiting, because they were all satisfied. Now it's my turn. Let me, with my mouth, just as you have done, compensate for my lack, before I show you my best weapon in the amorous arts."
Lía released Rey's hands from her interior, as well as freed his hair, then slid across the bed until she reached the young man's intimate part. She devoured her companion's virile member at once and used techniques belonging to the secret order. With these movements—the same ones that in the past no human could survive, as their fate was to die at the conclusion of the abysmal ecstasy of bliss—Lía tore moans from Rey.
For the vampire, it was delicious to see someone with confident gestures and a reserved temperament surrender to moaning, twisting his legs and hands. With his eyes closed, Rey could understand how humans died before Lía's amorous arts. He had seen this in her memories when he drank her blood, and now he was feeling a pleasure as immense as he never imagined he could experience with another species not descended from the lineage of the celestial spirit of the cold wind. There, on the bed, Rey felt his member pass through her throat and slip between her vocal folds into the trachea. Lía's vocal cords and epiglottis closed and vibrated like an earthquake with every breath. Yet that wasn't all; he also perceived his testicles being massaged by the base of her tongue, while its tip sought a way inside him from behind.
With the pleasure from the vibration, the stimulation of his testicles and anal sphincter, no human would realize his virile member had been pierced by one of the vampire's fangs, and that throughout this process, blood was falling directly into her stomach. Not to mention those subjects were old before the act and, to function well, drank an aphrodisiac brew that guaranteed the solidity of their members even after death.
"Though it seems I might drown at any moment," Lía said between gags, "don't worry. Let me receive all your explosive fluids; my lungs can tolerate the liquid."
"Ohhh…" Rey sighed, after plunging back into such a torrent of pleasure.
With his eyes closed, he enjoyed, again and again, how that tongue licked between his legs, how her throat sheathed his member, and how the vibrations massaged the entire tip of his virile flesh. Just when he thought he was prepared to endure such unprecedented pleasure, an indescribable, wet heat enveloped the head of his member.