Vestaria's trembling hands continue to dance in the air, doubtful of what to do, or how to react with the sudden snogging i impose on her.
The embarrassment in her teared eyes is emaciated by the passion of my tongue, boldly infiltrating the mouth of this Maiden, invading and conquering every corner with impassive blissful pleasure that had never been a reality for her.
She finally starts to reciprocate the action, clumsily moving her tongue against me, but her attempt is futile. I am too experienced to be surprised by her novice licks, subduing and suppressing her playful petal with a swirl of my tongue.
She rolls her eyes, squirming with ecstasy, placing her hands on my shoulders, an innocent touch that doesn't remain naive and superficial, as the resting palms of Vestaria become a little daring, probing with tentatively squeezes the rigidity of my musculature.
I return the intimacy in kind. Meddle down of course. I don't want to scare or overwhelm her, entice Vestaria will suffice for now, gifting a small piece of the nice delicacy that she could sense if she surrenders herself to my clutches and machinations.
With a firm hold, my hands traverse the contour of Vestaria's waist. The grip is a statement on it's own. «I will protect and care for you».
Tensing her. Because in this society, the Age Hierarchy is respected almost as much as the Nobiliary Status.
A factor reflected in Vestaria's stupefied expression, stunned by the wild realization. She is older than me, meaning she should be the one calling the shots. Instructing with her demanding authoritative demeanor, not being placed in the disciple position.
Her touch gets stronger, creating distance from me, without actually pushing me away.
{She fall already}.
I don't conceal my amused smirk, annoying her with the blatant disrespect of my actions.
"This is not right". She says dimly. "You killed my Little Brother".
"More like he hijacked me, then he tried to sacrifice me". I nonchalantly reply, her hands clasping against my shoulders, but not lashing at me. "Semantics Vessa. Are you really down to discuss who wronged who?".
"Or what?. Continue this indecency?". She retorts venomously, though is a facade, her eyes wandering to my mouth, while not so innocently biting her lower lip.
"That's an option". I reveal teasingly, leaning forward. She bends her arms, not showing resistance to my advance, so i press her further, pushing her to the hard bed.
The muffled thwack of Vestaria's head on the tough and poorly cushioned surface, is not of her liking. Uncomfortable with the location, but in the end, she let me guide her, enjoying our make out session.
{This is probably due to the rushing euphoria, along the prospect of not having the proper age for marriage. Who could had thought that at 25 years of age, she already qualifies as a «Spinster»}.
My impetus almost subside.
{Wait. I am near said threshold too. Fucking «Mirror Me»!. I wasn't planning on getting married. Now i will have to. Or the Head of the Family could disinherit me, along cutting my allowance…}
{No, they already did that. For me, is utterly meaningless. But not for Vestaria, her studies and aspirations will crumble without the overall support and backup from the mighty House Vecturion. Which is tied to the «Mirror Me» having an adequate descendant with the Heiress of a renown House}.
A faint knocking reverberates on the door, cutting short our kiss. "It's for me". Vestaria says regretfully. "I will go with a friend to an «Enclosed Amalgam». Do you want to… , Right. You don't like stepping into the «Evil Lands»".
"Don't answer on my behalf Vessa. Nor compare me with the «Mirror Me». We might be alike. But not the same…".
"I know". She whispers shamelessly, touching and grabbing my right bicep, as i flex it by reflex.
She snorts and giggles, using more strength in her grope, loving the sensation of my muscles. Yet, Vestaria releases me with the next knocking.
"I have to depart". She says, trying to stand up from the bed, just to be blocked by my body frame.
"You mean?. «We» have to go".
Her face lights up with my response, even if my knowledge is lacking, my battle prowess is not.
"I thought «Holy Knights» don't fight unless is necessary". She comments, wanting to hear a corroboration of my previous phrase.
"I don't have that dumb goal, or that careless orientation, Vessa. Plus, running away when i can fight back. That is not my style".
"I'll remember it «Vurck»…". Tilting her head, she is puzzled. "I know is improper to ask something so sensitive. But. What is your «Profession»?".
"For sure it's not Holy Knight". I scoff lightly.
"You don't know?!". Vestaria asks confused with authentic disbelief.
"Correct Vessa".
"How so Vurck?!. Haven't you checked your «Profile Panel»?".
{Profile Panel?}
My thought is matched by a floating ethereal interface popping up from the rhombus in my chest.
[ Vurckair Vecturion ]
[ Sodomizer ] [ Level 0 / 0 ]
[ Proficiency ] [ 0 / 200 ]
[ Experience ] [ 0 / 2000 ]
[ 0 ] [ × ] [ Spirituality ]
[ 3 ] [ + ] [ Vitality ]
[ 3 ] [ + ] [ Mentality ]
[ 3 ] [ + ] [ Ordinance ]
[ 1 ] [ × ] [ Radiance ]
"Hide your «Panel» Dummy!". Vestaria says hurriedly, deviating her face, not wanting to see the content, but locking her sight on it regardless, puzzled about it's content, but not saying whatever she found out. "You shouldn't show this to anyone".
"Got it, Vessa".
"If you need to see your improvement when others are around, think on «Progress Panel», and «Occult Panel» to dispell it".
I follow the advice, and most of the content in the interface disappears, leaving only four lines of text.
[ Vurckair Vecturion ]
[ Sodomizer ] [ Level 0 / 0 ]
[ Proficiency ] [ 0 / 200 ]
[ Experience ] [ 0 / 2000 ]
{Occult Panel}
With the thought, the interface dissipates in a wisp.
"Be more careful Vurck". Scolds Vestaria, sighing with defeat, as it's obvious that i will commit plenty of mistakes in the near, and far future.
After all. I am not in my world of origin, and a lot of the local common sense, is blatantly unknown to me. Not to mention the unclear and unreliable memories of the «Mirror Me».
Heading to the entrance. I open the door, moment in which a delicate, feminine hand covered by a red glove of silk, crashes weakly on me, knocking lightly my abs.
The damsel's aqua green eyes widen in embarrassment and shame, yelping quietly, and gasping with panic as she does a little jump back. Gifting me a whole view of her seductive silhouette…