this isn’t me

KEVIN POV ---------

I stood there, frozen, as the girl—Lia—filled the doorway with her sweaty, commanding presence.

My brain was still screaming this isn't me, this isn't real, but my body—Kaori's body—felt every inch of the silky nightgown clinging to my skin, the weight of these damn breasts pulling me forward.

I wanted to bolt, to find a way out of this nightmare, but then she spoke, and everything spiraled.

"Okay, since you're awake and I'm anyway going to take a bath, why not get a bit more messy?"

Her voice was a low purr, dripping with confidence as she strode toward me.

Her steps were brisk, purposeful, and I caught a whiff of her—sweat, sharp and earthy, but layered with something sweeter, like vanilla deodorant cutting through the musk.

It hit me like a punch, stirring something I didn't want to name.

She leaned in, her face inches from mine, those green eyes glinting with mischief.

Her lips parted, soft and glistening, and I realized too late what was coming.

I flinched, jerking my head to the side, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"W-wait—" I stammered, but my voice came out high and fragile, Kaori's voice, not mine.

Lia laughed, a throaty sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

"What's this? Shy already?"

Her hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my arm—strong, warm, inescapable.

She yanked me closer, her tall frame towering over me, and before I could twist away, her lips found mine.

Smooth, firm, tasting faintly of salt and something sweet I couldn't place.

My mind screamed no, but my body hesitated, caught off guard by how good it felt.

For a split second, I resisted—pushing against her chest, feeling the damp fabric of her tank top—but then the heat of her mouth melted something in me.

I stopped fighting.

Just for a moment, I let it happen, kissing her back, clumsy and unsure, my lips moving against hers like I'd forgotten who I was.

Then her hands moved.

They slid down my sides, tracing the curve of the nightgown, and I tensed as her fingers brushed the edge of those ridiculous panties.

Before I could react, she slipped inside—bold, unapologetic—and touched me.

There.

A jolt shot through me, raw and electric, from a place I didn't even know I had.

It wasn't just pleasure; it was a tidal wave, crashing over me, making my knees buckle and my breath hitch.

My heart slammed against my chest, too fast, too loud, and I yanked back from the kiss, gasping.

"What's wrong?"

Lia tilted her head, smirking like she knew every secret I was hiding.

"Sensitive down there? Still sore from last night?"

Last night?

My mind blanked.

What the hell had happened last night?

I didn't want to know—couldn't handle knowing.

"I—I have to go," I blurted, shoving her hand away, stumbling back toward the bed.

My legs felt like jelly, but I needed distance, needed to think.

"Oh, no you don't."

Lia's grip tightened on my arm, pulling me back with a strength I couldn't match.

I twisted, flailing, but she was relentless, her body pressing against mine until I was pinned against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere, princess," she teased, her breath hot against my ear.

I struggled—god, I tried—but Lia was relentless, her body pressing against mine until I was pinned against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere, princess," she teased, her breath hot against my ear.

Her left hand shot up, seizing both my wrists in a single, iron grip and locking them above my head.

The stretch pulled the nightgown tight against my skin, the lace scraping faintly over my chest, and I felt exposed, vulnerable, every nerve buzzing with panic and something darker.

Her right hand slid down, slow and deliberate, brushing over the curve of my borrowed body.

She paused at my chest, fingers tracing the edge of the nightgown's lace before finding a nipple through the thin fabric.

She teased it—light, circling strokes that sent sharp little jolts through me, tightening the sensitive peak until I bit my lip to stifle a gasp.

"Look at you," she murmured, her lips grazing my jaw.

"Already squirming. You act like you hate it, but I know better."

"L-Let go," I choked out, but it was weak, a plea drowned by the heat creeping up my spine.

She didn't listen.

Her hand left my chest—leaving that ache unanswered—and dipped lower, slipping beneath the satin of the panties with a boldness that made my breath catch.

Her fingers found me, warm and sure, and the first touch was a shock—a soft brush against my clit that ignited every nerve in a dizzying flare.

It wasn't just pressure; it was a pulse, a tingling wave that radiated outward, hot and insistent.

My hips jerked without my permission, and she chuckled, low and smug.

"Sensitive, huh?"

Her fingertips circled, slow at first, teasing the swollen bud with a featherlight touch that made my thighs tremble.

It felt like fire and silk all at once—sharp, melting, overwhelming.

My pulse thundered in my ears, and I couldn't tell if I wanted to pull away or press closer.

Then she shifted, her fingers sliding lower, parting me with a slick ease that made my face burn.

She slipped inside—just one finger at first, curling gently, exploring this body I didn't even understand.

The intrusion was strange, intimate, a stretch that made me gasp, but it was the way she moved that undid me.

Her thumb stayed on my clit, rubbing in tight, deliberate circles, while her finger thrust shallowly, then deeper, finding a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of my heart.

It was too much.

The clit teasing was electric—each stroke sending sparks up my spine, coiling heat low in my belly—but the fingering added a fuller, aching pressure, a push and pull that dragged me under.

My whole body felt alive, too alive, every sensation amplified in this fragile, foreign form.

Wetness slicked her hand—I could feel it, hear it—and she leaned in, her lips brushing mine as she whispered, "You're dripping, princess. Still gonna pretend you don't like this?"

I couldn't answer.

My head tipped back against the wall, breaths coming in short, desperate pants.

She added a second finger, stretching me further, and the fullness mingled with the relentless clit play—her thumb pressing harder now, flicking faster—until I was unraveling.

The pleasure built in layers: a tingling buzz from her thumb, a deep, throbbing pull from her fingers, and a wild, uncontrollable heat that swallowed me whole.

My legs shook, my wrists strained against her grip, and then it hit—a shuddering, blinding climax that ripped through me like a storm.

I cried out, a high, broken sound I didn't recognize, my body clenching around her fingers as wave after wave pulsed through me.

It wasn't just my clit or the penetration—it was both, feeding off each other, dragging the release out until I was trembling, boneless, held up only by her hand on my wrists.

My vision blurred, my chest heaved, and a soft, involuntary whimper slipped out as the aftershocks lingered, leaving me raw and dazed.

Lia eased her fingers out, her touch gentling as she pressed a smug kiss to my forehead.

"See? You're not so tough, are you?"

I couldn't respond.

My mind was static, my body a traitor.

I'd never felt anything like that—not as Kevin, not as anyone.

And the worst part? Some twisted, buried piece of me wanted more.