“I can give you love, Vergil…”
That woman said as she stepped closer to me, slowly peeling away the fabric that clung to her body, one layer at a time.
Her voice was convincing. Her eyes locked onto mine—filled with determination, yet also… warmth.
What does it truly feel like to be... loved?
Why do I desire it so deeply?
And would it make me feel… better?
Is love greater than power?
I felt an unfamiliar warmth as her soft body moved in a slow, deliberate dance above mine.
Warm—almost burning. Growing hotter with every moment.
Her supple flesh, wrapped in smooth skin, felt undeserving of resting in my hands.
Each moan that escaped her lips sounded like a beautiful harmony—addictive.
Those lips… soft and moist, carrying a sweetness no form of sugar could ever rival.
I felt as though I had reached the summit—floating, weightless.
A sensation that pushed me closer to madness, yet strangely, my mind kept insisting that this was… pleasant.
And then, suddenly, I felt—
I looked at her as she lay against my chest.
Her face buried into my shoulder, her slender fingers tracing marks across my skin.
She appeared calm. Content.
At least, that was what I believed—until I noticed her fingers slowly curling around her abdomen.
Wasn't this supposed to be… pleasantly?
And more than that… why did I feel guilty?
Is this what it truly feels like… to be loved?
Did this make things better—between her and me?
Those questions only tangled my thoughts further.
Uncertain whether what I experienced was merely a dream or I had awakened once again to a bitter reality.
I do not truly know the answer.
