Warning: this chapter has sexual content! It isn't very graphic, it's sweet, rather, but if you don't want to read about it, just skip it. It won't affect the story.

She waits for me sitting on the bed, wearing one of my T-shirts that goes down to her knees.

When I close the door behind my back, she opens her legs with a defiant expression on her face.

I gulp, and I decide to go with the flow.

"What?" she asks. "That's what you're about to do, aren't you?"

"How probable is it?" I ask her.

"78%."

"Well, it's decided, then," I agree. "I don't feel qualified enough to dispute your numbers."

"Are you going to rape me, Mint?"

"If that's what turns you on, then yes, I will."

"I'm not sure if it's my thing," she answers as if she was seriously considering the question. And maybe she is. She's not experienced enough to know what she likes, is she?

"Then what if I don't rape you? Do you want to sleep with me, by any chance?"

"To deny Pavlov the pleasure of making you squirm? To protect me by making me your lover, with an absurd logic? No. Not really."

"Not because of that." I shrug. "I took care of him."

Her despondent frown makes me reconsider my answer.

"Although, he wouldn't dare to threaten you then, just saying. And he's unpredictable, so yeah, it would be a logical step for me to make you my lover, for real."

"Still, no."

"Oh, come on. I'm neither blind nor stupid. Well, okay, compared to you, I might be, but I see clearly that you—"

"I know." She pouts. "You've had lots of women, so you probably know how it's done, and you also have a beautiful body. It might have been even a long-term plan of mine to sleep with you since the Agency days. And you smell kinda good. Otherwise, I'd be already sleeping on the floor, right?"

"Why not then? Do you think it would hurt? I'd go slow."

"I'm not afraid of pain."

"What are you afraid of, then?"

"Bodily fluids," she confesses. "I know it's weird."

"It's not weird at all. It's the most normal thing. Many people seem to share this problem."

"Okay. So now that we discussed my boundaries—"

"You can gradually get used to it," I interrupt her, grabbing her feet. "Starting the farthest possible from your brain. I promised to go slow, right?"

She yelps when I run my tongue across the sole of her right foot.

"See, my saliva is on you now. Is it disgusting?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, it's just a little wet patch."

"Not that. How on earth can you bring yourself to lick someone's foot?"

"It's not just someone's foot. It's your foot."

"Still." She grimaces. "It's not even clean. I've been walking barefoot here."

"See? You can walk barefoot. Many people can't do that because they are so worried about the dirt. Now, who's the weird, again? Not you, for sure."

"You. Licking my feet, Mint."

"Now am I?" I ask her with a naughty grin, sucking on her toes, one by one. She yelps again and covers her eyes.

I push her back into a lying position. I climb on the bed and take her other foot in my hand. She half-laughs half-protests when I nibble on it. When I proceed to kiss and lick my way up to her knees, she miraculously forgets about the protesting part.

Arriving up there, I grab her ankles and turn her face down to give me access to the back of her knees. She doesn't freak out, she just grabs a pillow and buries her face in it. I trace the veins under the sensitive skin with my tongue, making her tremble a little as if electricity was running in those veins instead of blood.

I feel my erection pressing against the hem of my trousers, but I ignore the urge to free myself. It's too early to be this aroused, kissing a fully clothed woman's legs. It's better to endure confinement than to do something stupid.

I kiss my way up to the back of her thighs. Her breathing becomes more labored when I reach her buttocks. My tongue touches the spot where her thighs and bottom meet, and her body elevates a bit, offering better access.

My cock twitches in my pants, demanding attention. But she's not someone I can take with a swift thrust from behind after tearing her panties off. Well, that's something I absolutely shouldn't think about now if I want to last long enough to get there at all, any time later.

I bite gently down on one of her mounds. Okay, in her case, they are small molehills, rather, but her surprised yelp still rushes the rest of the blood from my head to my nether parts. When I run my tongue all along in the crevice between, through the panties, she moans something into the pillow. Something that sounds like Mint, you disgusting pervert. Or rather like Mint, don't you dare to stop. Or maybe just the usual Mint, you asshole.

I stop at the mentioned part for a quick lick because I still remember how disappointed she was when I forgot to take everything that she said seriously. I'm not a man who makes the same mistake twice, and I'm ready to prove it.

Her surprised gasp makes me try again. She still fails to freak out. When I nudge her legs apart, she follows my lead without protest.

I want her to turn around by herself, but hiding her face in the pillow is her last line of defense at the moment. I gently rub my nose against her cotton-covered labia. Her panties are already a little damp.

My kisses on the inner side of her thighs make her moan. But not only her; me too. My pants are getting so tight that it feels painful. I bury my face into her panties, and I groan desperately into her while trying to regain control over my rebelling body. Not a good idea, by any means. Her scent just makes me more aroused.

"What is it?" she asks, sounding concerned, and almost coherent, again, which is quite the contrary of what I'm going for. But at least, she turns around of her own accord.

Instead of a reply, I detect her clit, still covered by a layer of cloth. But it's definitely there, underneath the wet fabric—her contented sigh serves as an affirmation when I find the place with my mouth. I lick it gently, and she seems to forget her question in an instant.

The extra layer of underwear serves its purpose for a while. It makes the sensation less intense, dulling it to a level she can enjoy without feeling overwhelmed. Most of her pussy is already exposed to my assault, but her clit is still covered, protecting her delicate nerves.

She's already close, I can tell. She's trembling a little, and I feel the muscles in her legs flexing under my chest.

I wait until she becomes frustrated with the fabric barring her most sensitive part from my tongue, and she makes an irritated, demanding noise. I urge her to lift her butt, and I pull the panties down.

She tastes like herself. Like the way she is, concentrated in a particular savour. I need to stop for a second and spread my knees wide enough to stretch my trousers even tighter at the critical spot.

When I restart my ministrations, she abruptly closes her legs.

"Stop, Mint," she pants. "It's too intense."

"That's the way it should be, baby," I explain.

"It was enough for me today, I guess."

"Let me show you the best part, okay?" I ask her, grabbing her hands.

I don't pin them above her head, no matter how much my body would approve of the idea. I place them on the back of my head. She gets the hint.

"This way," I murmur into the junction of her thighs, "it's not riskier than masturbating. Guide me."

"I don't masturbate much, either. It makes a mess."

A mess, huh? I grin, and I take her whole clit in my mouth. She cries out when I suck on it thoroughly, but instead of pushing my head away, she pulls me even closer.

I don't resist. I do exactly what she wants me to do, and it pays off. She becomes more and more vocal.

Her moans make my balls tighten. But the last thing I want to think about is my poor, neglected nether parts. If I did, I'd explode in a second without any further stimulation, I'm afraid. Only the tightness of my pants is keeping me from coming like a sweet sixteen on his first date. I hope that pressure applied to a raging arousal for a prolonged time doesn't cause permanent damage, though.

She's forceful in guiding me. I love it. And I love that she loves it.

When she comes, she doesn't scream at all. Her body shakes, and she gasps for air, moaning my name and pulling my hair painfully, making me drown in her.

I kiss her inner thighs while she comes down from her high. Then I pay a quick visit to the bathroom to wash my mouth. I highly doubt that she's one of those women who get turned on by their own scents.

Her eyes are still hazy when I lie back by her side and take her in my arms. I kiss her slowly and meaningfully. By the time I finish, my eyes aren't showing any sign of sensible thinking either, probably.

"Don't you want to take your pants down?" she asks when she realizes that I'm almost fully clothed. "I've already seen your penis, remember? Back in the Agency days."

"Not in this state, baby."

"I know what an erection is."

"Not that," I confess. "It's covered in terrible bodily fluids. So only if you're ready to take a huge step in the name of science—"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Hell no," I protest. "But I'm leaking like never before in my life. So if masturbation looked like a mess to you, I'm not sure it's a good idea to take those pants off."

"Come on, Mint. You've certainly cooled down a bit by now."

"Certainly?" I ask while she's unbuttoning my trousers. "How certain is it, exactly?"

"Zero percent," she answers when she manages to free my erection.

"Sounds accurate," I admit.

"Should I touch it?" she asks with mild horror on her face.

"Only if you want to. I can wash it first. But I'm constantly leaking."

"Ew."

"Sorry, baby. It's not something I do. It's something you do to me."

"Why?" she asks, sounding hilariously clueless.

"You excite me too much."

Okay, that was the right thing to say, and it becomes clear in an instant. Not because it's flattering, no. I mentioned an unspecified amount of excitement, and it ignites her scientific interest.

"How much?" she inquires. "Could you come just rubbing it against my thigh?"

"Yeah," I admit. "I definitely could."

"How? It's just a thigh. Not very exciting."

"No, baby. It's not just a thigh. It's your thigh."

"Oh. Let's test it, then," she proposes.

"I have other ideas." I grin, and I roll her on her back. She panics for a second, but I kiss her deeply to scare her peace-threatening thoughts away. It's one of the perks of being a death demon, I guess; they flee from me without putting up much resistance. She kisses back, breathlessly, grinding against me.

"I'll go very slow, baby," I promise to her, again.

"Isn't it supposed to be a rape?" Her voice is hoarse with desire. "Then stop being so fucking polite!"

No matter how carefully I fill her, I almost come when I do. I need to breathe out three times to regain my reign in the situation. I probably should tap my forehead, too, but I don't want to break her trance-like state. She's concentrating on the new feelings, and the feelings only.

She hooks her arms around my neck, keeping me close, staring into my eyes.

I see her orgasm building up. She bites her lips and rocks against me, keeping a perfect rhythm. Until she freezes all of a sudden, trying to push me away.

"Stop it," she demands. "It's too intense!"

"I know. Just let it happen, baby. You're safe."

"Am I?"

"You are."

"I bet your women don't ask stupid questions like this," she huffs. "Thank you for your effort, Mint, but I know I'm too weird, and—"

"You're not weird," I dispute, pinning her hands above her head with a tricky move, this time. "You're eccentricitical."

"What does that mean?" she asks, gasping for air when I thrust into her again.

"The same as extraordinary," I explain to her, accentuated with another thrust.

"And?" she moans, with her eyes turning unusually bright, as if she was looking into the sun.

"And unique," I groan, desperately fighting to remain articulate, thrusting into her relentlessly, again and again.

"Oh." That's all she has to add. She's too overwhelmed to ask questions now.

"And significant."

I press my forehead against hers. It's my last connection to reality, everything else is falling apart around me and inside me. My breathing is so erratic that it's hardly intelligible what I'm saying anymore, but I want to tell her the truth, anyway. My heart pounds against my ribs alarmingly strong and fast, following the rhythm I keep pounding into her.

"And perfect, in one word."

She doesn't scream out this time, either. She convulses around me.

The look in her eyes takes away the last morsels of my self-control. She doesn't look simply astonished. She looks positively stupefied, in a very cute way.

I let myself go. I fall into her depth.