We’ll do all sorts of naughty things!
Clare slips her fingers into Lyon's underwear and grabs his hard cock with firm pressure.
He almost jumps from his seat.
His face turns bright red.
His brain short-circuits.
Her soft fingers wrap around him, and a shiver runs down his entire body.
«N-N-No! T-That's not... I mean, y-you don't have to, really!» stammers Lyon, waving his hands like he's swatting invisible bugs.
But Clare doesn't stop.
She starts moving her hand up and down, slow but steady.
Lyon twitches, trying to resist, but the growing pleasure quickly washes away any will to stop her.
Her strokes become faster.
~W-What... what is this feeling...?~
Lyon leans back into the seat of Clare's sports car, his legs slightly spread, hips pushed forward—clearly trying to make it easier for her.
And to feel even more.
Meanwhile, Clare keeps racing through the streets of London like nothing's happening. One hand on the wheel, the other... on the gearshift—you know what I mean
Lyon's muscles tense up.
His arms and legs lock.
His breath grows heavy, desperate, as Clare strokes him faster and faster.
His erection swells, throbs violently.
It's about to burst.
~I feel... so good... too good... I'm gonna...~
Then...
—SPLASH!
A hot, thick orgasm bursts inside Lyon's underwear, soaking Clare's hand completely.
«It's your first time having a girl do this, right? You came the moment I touched you,» Clare asks.
But her tone isn't mocking.
It's calm, almost like a teacher pointing out a mistake to a clueless student.
She brings her hand to her lips and slowly licks it clean, drop by drop, until nothing's left.
Lyon simply nods, silent.
Even if Clare doesn't mean to offend him, her words still leave a mark.
«Don't worry, little Lyon. With this kind of life, we'll have plenty of time together—just the two of us,» Clare says with a teasing smile. «I'll teach you everything you need to know to become a proper womanizer.»
«T-Thank you...» Lyon murmurs softly.
The idea of spending more nights on patrol with Clare—doing that, or maybe even something dirtier—sets off every teenage hormone in his body.
The industrial district of Dagenham—their target—is about an hour's drive away.
But Clare treats speed limits like casual suggestions.
They get there in just over thirty minutes.
The factory looms ahead, huge and ghostly under the dim glow of the streetlamps.
It's even bigger than their high school, surrounded by an endless iron fence.
Clare parks far from the road, hidden from view.
They continue on foot, sticking to the shadows like ninjas.
«Okay, Lyon. Create an entry point,» Clare says casually.
«An entry point?» Lyon repeats, confused. «How am I supposed to do that?»
«By bending the bars, obviously,» she replies, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
Lyon looks at the fence—iron bars at least five centimeters thick.
«Bend them? Seriously? Do I look like Hulk to you?»
Clare crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow.
«Don't tell me you can't do it...»
«The real question is: how am I supposed to do it?!»
Clare sighs, clearly annoyed by his lack of supernatural strength.
«You've got the Vampire Crystal! Bending these bars should be child's play for you!»
~If she says so...~
Lyon grabs the bars and pulls with all his might.
The metal groans.
After a superhuman effort...
...he manages to widen the gap by maybe two centimeters.
Clare shakes her head, visibly disappointed.
«Step aside—I'll handle it,» Clare says.
She steps forward, her expression somewhere between annoyed and focused.
A thin jet of flame bursts from the tip of her index finger, like a blowtorch.
In seconds, she slices through the bars and opens a clean passage.
Lyon stares at her, stunned.
~So this is the power of the Red Salamander Crystal...? That's amazing!~
They sneak into the factory, swallowed by darkness.
Lyon's eyes adjust immediately—thanks to the power of his Vampire Crystal, he can see almost as clearly as in daylight.
But for Clare, it's nothing but a wall of pitch-black.
«I could light a flame, but we'd risk being spotted,» she mutters. «At least you can see in the dark, right?»
«Of course,» Lyon answers proudly.
Clare grabs his arm.
Lyon flinches as he feels her massive breasts press against his elbow.
«Lead the way,» she says, voice sweet but firm.
The place is a maze—rooms, endless hallways, staircases everywhere.
Counting the flights, they figure they've reached the third floor—the top.
~Not a single soul around... Where are the followers of the Cult of the Primordial Shadow? Did Gin feed us a load of crap...?~
Lyon barely finishes the thought when he spots a faint glow at the end of the corridor.
Light seeps from behind a door with a small glass pane.
His heart starts pounding.
Fear grips him instantly.
Deep down, he had hoped Gin's tip was just a dead end, and that the night would end in nothing.
But that flickering light changes everything—someone really is inside, just like Gin told Clare.
Clare notices the fear in Lyon's body—she's still holding onto his arm, and she can feel him trembling.
So she gently takes his hand and squeezes it.
«Don't worry, little Lyon. I promised Bry I'd bring you back safe and sound. And I will.»