Chapter 54 - Vex Being a Pervert Again

"...but you didn’t."

The confession fell like a blade—soft and cold and final.

Maira turned away again, burying her face in the pillow as fresh tears spilled out. Her back trembled, shoulders rising with each hitched breath she couldn’t swallow anymore.

For a moment, Vex just stood there. The quiet stretched.

Long.

Awkward.

Heavy.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

He didn’t know what the right thing to say was. Hell, he never knew. Words weren’t his weapon. His fists were. His body. His shield.

His goddamn cock, even. But words?

Especially when a girl cried like this—over him?

He hated it.

Because it made him feel things.

Because it made him remember things.

He took a slow step forward.

Then another.

And before she could react—before she could push him away or flinch—he moved.

He climbed onto the bed behind her.

Maira jolted. Her breath caught in panic as she twisted slightly, her body shifting to avoid him instinctively, but it was too slow, too late.

He didn’t let her escape.

He didn’t grab her hard, didn’t say anything—just wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. A quiet, steady hug.

Firm.

Grounded.

Her back pressed to his chest. Her curves—lush, warm, trembling beneath the thin bedsheet—melted into him, perfectly molded against his larger frame.

She gasped quietly, going stiff, like a rabbit cornered in a hunter’s snare.

But he didn’t pull her tighter immediately. He let her breathe. Let her heart race. Let her process the fact that he was there—not going away.

And when she didn’t resist again—didn’t push him off—he leaned in.

Slowly.

Gently.

And buried his face in the crook of her neck.

The scent of her hair, the heat of her skin... it hit him like a punch to the gut. Real. Vulnerable. Painfully close.

He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

But something inside him hurt too.

"...Why do you love someone like me..." he whispered into her skin, his lips brushing the back of her neck, "...I’m undeserving of you all."

He didn’t say it with drama. Not pity. Not guilt.

Just confusion.

And a kind of dull ache that had no place being spoken aloud.

His thoughts wandered—unwillingly.

To Asperia’s eyes, fierce and proud, slowly melting with affection the more she looked at him.

To Maira, right here, in his arms now—shaking and crying, yet still allowing him to hold her.

To his old life.

The shitty apartments. The silence of nights with no family. No friends that stayed. The girls that kissed for fun, touched for thrills, and walked away without ever really seeing him.

He used to think that was just what love was.

A thing that burned hot for a week, then died.

So why now?

Why in this messed-up world, where being born out of an egg between the collision of the three worlds together, did two women look at him like he meant something?

Like he could matter?

Even now, as his crotch unintentionally pressed against her perky hips—still clothed, but undeniably stiff—he couldn’t escape the mess of it.

She was warm.

She was curved.

She was right there.

His erection throbbed inside his pants, betraying the tender atmosphere, reminding him he was still himself—still that flawed, horny bastard inside.

And she must’ve felt it.

Because suddenly, through the stutter of her breath, she murmured—

"Something’s... poking me..."

She twisted slightly, confused, not alarmed, just blinking over her shoulder with wide, wet eyes. "Do you have something in your pocket?"

Vex blinked.

His mind froze.

She wasn’t joking.

She was... genuinely asking.

Still half-lost in her emotions, still too raw to even think of teasing. Her voice was that of a girl bewildered, blinking through storm clouds.

For a second, he just stared at her.

Then he let out a breathless chuckle.

"...No, idiot," he murmured, the grin returning to his voice—but softer, warmer this time. He buried his nose back against her hair, arms tightening just a little more around her waist. "...That’s just me being a man."

She didn’t answer as her face flushed, as if a sudden smoke was coming out of her brain as she realized what he meant. Her mouth trembled, eyes shut, and while doing so her hip muscles twitched and the pressure became more vivid as her brain realized it was the same thing she saw last night.

But she didn’t pull away either.

He pressed his lips just behind her ear, his whisper barely audible.

"You know... stop being this cute..." he said. "Or else I’m gonna fall for you even deeper."

"You’re lying."

Her voice was barely a whisper—sharp with disbelief, but trembling underneath. There was a flush in her cheeks, despite the doubt in her tone.

Her heart, stupid traitor that it was, thumped wildly inside her chest, aching for his words to be true.

But her lips wavered with hesitation.

"I’m nothing like... the Princess," she murmured. "She’s... she’s better than me."

There it was.

The ache she tried to hide. The wound of comparison. The raw spot she didn’t want to show. She turned her face away again, trying to mask the vulnerability with defiance—but Vex didn’t miss it.

He chuckled.

Low. Deep. A growl of amusement and affection wrapped in heat.

"The fuck you know about better?" he murmured.

And then—he moved.

No warning. No pause.

His hand rose like it belonged there and landed directly on her chest—bold, sure, seamless. But the moment his palm met the shape beneath the fabric, Vex’s movement faltered, just slightly.

His brows lifted.

"...Wait," he muttered, almost to himself, eyes narrowing with a spark of curiosity, "Are these... bigger than what they look like?"

His fingers shifted, adjusting around the fullness beneath the sheet—then realization hit.

They weren’t just breasts.

They were bound.

Wrapped tightly beneath her dress with an inner layer of cloth—tucked, compressed, flattened to hide what nature had generously gifted.

Yet even through the gauzy cotton of the bedsheet and the layered wrapping, they spilled into his hand like ripe fruit resisting restraint.

Dense, weighty. Not the airy softness of idle fat, but the plush resistance of something full-bodied and alive—feminine muscle laced in silk.

Her breath shattered.

A sharp, surprised moan escaped her throat before she could swallow it, high-pitched and full of panic and... heat.

Her eyes snapped to him—glassy, shocked, burning.

"W-What... what are you doing?" she gasped, her voice breaking in the middle, her lips parting, trembling.