Backdoor Access

Zayela snorted.

"That's cute. But I'm not the one skipping meals like an idiot."

She stood up before he could argue, brushing past him on the way to the kitchen.

"You're eating something. End of discussion."

Nash tried to protest, but she was already moving, digging through cabinets like she was defusing a bomb, slamming a pot down with too much force, muttering curses under her breath when a spoon clanged to the floor.

He followed slowly, dropping into the chipped chair behind her, trying not to look too obvious.

[TIME REMAINING: 54 minutes]

[INTIMATE COMPASSION QUEST: Incomplete]

Reward forfeited at midnight.

His knee bounced under the table. Every time he looked at her, the system pulsed again. A little louder. A little more demanding.

Must involve gentle skin contact.

Must carry emotional vulnerability.

No explicit act required.

But it has to matter.

He clenched his jaw. This was fucking insane. He was supposed to cross a line without crossing it. Touch her without making it obvious. Get close… without alerting the defenses.

Zayela scooped something from the pot, dropped it into a chipped bowl, and brought it over. Steam curled off the top.

"Don't burn your tongue," she muttered, placing it in front of him.

He blinked, caught off guard.

"You, uh… made soup?"

"Shut up."

He grinned, but it faded fast.

[TIME REMAINING: 53 minutes]

He took a bite. It wasn't bad. Actually, it was decent. Salty, warm, real. His stomach sighed.

She sat across from him with her legs tucked under her, her phone in one hand, spoon in the other. She didn't talk. Didn't look at him much. Just quietly ate, occasionally blowing across her bowl.

Nash forced himself to eat, mind racing. He needed to act. But she wasn't flirty. Wasn't inviting. She was tired. Comfortable. Her guard was down in the worst way, for him.

He cleared his throat.

"Long day?"

She looked up.

"Obviously."

Nash tried to sound casual.

"You've been tense lately. I mean… carrying all the weight. Bills, place, me."

Her brow tightened.

"Where's this going?"

"Nowhere. Just… noticing."

She gave a short shrug.

"Life's heavy. No point whining."

She gave a short shrug. "Life's heavy. No point whining."

Nash exhaled slowly, watching the way her shoulders moved. Tight, worn down.

She was tired. That was his angle. If he was going to pull this off without making it weird, that was the only crack in the wall. No flirting. No touching without reason. But pain? Fatigue? That was believable. That gave him cover.

He just had to thread it right. One wrong word and the whole thing collapsed.

He exhaled, slow and controlled.

"Hey," he said, voice gentler, "you trust me, right?"

That made her pause. She looked at him, suspicious.

"What?"

"I mean… not big stuff. Just, like… you trust me not to be weird."

She raised one eyebrow.

"Nash."

"Forget it, forget it," he said fast, hands up. "I'm just saying… I've got this recovery lotion. Stuff I use after games, burns like hell going on, but it gets into the muscle. Real deep. You're always tense, Zay. You carry it in your back. Shoulders. Neck."

She eyed him, flat.

"And you suddenly care?"

"Come on," he said. "You're the one holding this place together. I've seen you cracked in half and still washing dishes, fixing the lights, yelling at me. I just thought... maybe I could return the favor. Not much. Just five minutes. Shoulders only."

She didn't answer. The room stretched quiet.

Then, slowly:

"You want to rub my shoulders?"

He winced.

"I mean, yeah, when you say it like that, it sounds dumb."

"You trying to get off on it?"

"No!" His face burned. "I swear. It's nothing like that. I've used it on teammates before. Guys twice my weight, stinkier than hell, half-naked in locker rooms. This isn't a kink thing, Zayela. It's just care. Physical, practical, nothing else. You're sore, I've got hands, end of equation."

She scoffed, barely hiding a laugh.

"You're a mess."

"Always have been." He nodded. "You're always doing everything. Just this once, let someone help you decompress without a fight."

Zayela stared at him for another second, then slowly shook her head, muttering.

"You always pull this shit when I'm too tired to argue."

Then she glanced up from her phone.

"Fine."

He blinked.

Then she looked down at her phone again.

"You touch anything below my shoulders, I break your wrist."

[CONSENT GRANTED]

[TRIGGER UNLOCKED: Emotional Contact Access – Shoulders / Back Only]

[Massage Tools Available: Athletic Recovery Lotion – Quantity: 1 Application]

[TIME REMAINING: 49 minutes]

Nash stood, hiding his relief.

"Lemme get the bottle."

He moved fast, rummaging through his bag. His hands trembled. This was real. She said yes. Kind of. But now came the hard part, doing it without making it weird, making it obvious… or fucking it all up.

He squeezed the lotion into his palms, warmed it between his hands, and sat behind her on the couch where she'd dropped down.

Zayela didn't look at him. She just pulled her tank top strap off one shoulder and tilted forward.

Nash saw the curve of her back. The skin was smooth. Damp. The dip of her spine traced straight into the fabric of her shorts.

He swallowed.

Focus.

He squeezed the lotion into his hands, rubbed them together, and pressed his palms to her upper back.

Warm. Firm. Tense.

She flinched.

"Too cold?"

"No. Just do it."

He started slow, circles around her shoulder blades, thumbs dragging over tight muscle. Her body gave nothing at first. No reaction. She just sat there, elbows on knees, gaze on her phone like he wasn't even touching her.

His fingers slid along her shoulder blades. He traced knots and loosened them. He went lower. Mid-back. Still within the lines.

[PHYSICAL CONTACT: ACTIVE]

[EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: Building – Tension lowering]

[TRUST: +3 | Bond Affection: +4]

[TIME REMAINING: 46 minutes]

Zayela let out a slow exhale.

"You're good at this," she muttered.

"I had a lot of sore teammates."

"I bet," she said, tone unreadable.

He kept going. Gently. Focused. One inch at a time. Staying careful. But making every touch count.

The line between affection and desire was thin.

He walked it like a wire.

She let out another breath, slower this time. Her shoulders had softened under his hands, muscle giving in to pressure. She hadn't looked back once.

Nash focused, working down her back, fingers steady.

He checked the quest panel.

[TIME REMAINING: 42 minutes]

Still active.

The timer ticked. No check mark. No trigger. No progress.

He blinked.

What the hell?

Maybe it only processed once he stopped? Maybe he had to complete the massage first?

He hesitated, wiped a bead of sweat off his temple, then peeked again.

[INTIMATE COMPASSION QUEST: Incomplete]

Must involve gentle skin contact

Must carry emotional vulnerability

Type: Non-Sexual Erotic Interaction

His stomach sank. Non-sexual erotic. That was the difference.

This wasn't it.

He was playing it too safe.

A massage? That was neutral. That was expected. Anyone could do that. She wasn't flustered. She wasn't vulnerable. She wasn't even thinking about him, not like that.

He gritted his teeth.

How the fuck am I supposed to pull that off?

She was his cousin. She was tired. She was guarded. And this was the thinnest thread of trust she'd ever handed him. If he pulled wrong, it would snap, and so would everything else.

His fingers slowed. He felt her breathing deepen slightly. She was starting to relax.

He stared at the last quest condition again.

Must create a physical moment of emotional vulnerability.

Not sexual pressure. Not arousal.

But something that straddled the line.

His jaw clenched.

I need this. I need the SP. I need the BP. I can't fall behind—

Then he remembered:

[TRUST: +3 | Bond Affection: +4]

That meant she had a system. Like Lina. Like Sarra.

That meant he could access it.

He focused on her the same way he had with the others, feel the bond, not the body. Let the system do the rest.

A pulse flickered across his vision.

[VIEWING TARGET: ZAYELA LEWIS]

Affection: 63%

Lust: 18%

Trust: 71%

Preferences:

• Love Type: Protective Attachment

• Erotic Weakness: Praise + Body Vulnerability

• Position Type: Rough straddle, face-to-face grind, couch or chair riding, legs locked, hips in control

• Foreplay: Slow tracing touches, subtle grazing of inner thighs, whispered teasing at close range

Trigger Events:

→ Letting her feel in control of a shared moment → +10% Affection

→ Complimenting her strength or self-sufficiency without pity → +8% Affection

→ Light, intentional touch along the waistline during a conversation → +6% Lust

→ Holding unbroken eye contact while speaking low → +9% Lust

→ Leaning into her personal space, then pulling away slowly → +7% Lust

→ Giving her the freedom to say no—but acting like you already trust her to say yes → +8% Trust / +6% Lust

→ Letting her take physical initiative after extended build-up → +10% Lust

→ Pinning her arms or hips mid-escalation, once Lust > 60% → +12% Lust / unlocks Hidden Trait

→ Pressuring her before she gives a green light → –20% Trust / –25% Affection

→ Mocking her control or calling her cold → –15% Affection / –10% Lust

Nash blinked, eyes stuck on the numbers.

Affection: 62% | Lust: 18% | Trust: 71%

Way higher than Lina. Higher than Sarra.This wasn't a casual thing.She had triggers buried in her profile like landmines dressed up as green lights.

If I'm doing this… I have to move smart. No mistakes.

He leaned in. Close enough to feel her heat. She smelled like old soap, sweat, and something warmer underneath. Slightly sweet. Raw. Lived-in. It hit his nose like breath from under covers, familiar and private.

He reached for the lotion again. Cold against his palms. Rubbed it in until smooth. Then touched her. Shoulders only.

"Don't freeze," he murmured.

She didn't answer. Just tensed.

"You never stop." His voice was low. "You hold this place together. Rent. Food... Me."

Zayela didn't move. Still stiff. Breathing shallow.

"You skipped meals for me. Fixed everything. Never asked for anything back. Just handled it."His thumbs rolled under her traps. Deep pressure. Her shoulder flinched.

"You're strong, Zay. Not the fake kind. The kind nobody sees."

No reply. But her back dipped a little under his touch.

Then, softly:

"…What are you doing?"

Nash let out a breath that could've passed for a laugh.

"Just giving credit where it's due."

He dragged the pause.

"You're strong. Doesn't matter what's thrown at you... you hold."

Another dip. A slow one. She exhaled longer this time.

[Affection +5% | Lust +4%][Trigger: Complimenting strength → +8% Affection]

"…You always say this kind of thing when girls are tired?" she muttered.

"Only when they scare the hell outta me."

Zayela's lips twitched. She pulled her tank top strap lower. Said nothing.

"You're being weird."

"Weird-bad?"

Pause.

"Weird-sorta-working."

He smiled. Rolled his thumb under the shoulder blade. She shifted, not away.

"You know," she added, "for a shrimp, you've got soft hands."

"Oh yeah?" Nash smirked. "You talk a lot for someone with no muscle."

He didn't wait a second. Fingers slid down and brushed her waistline, from behind, tracing the curve just above her shorts.

[Trigger: Intentional touch along waistline → +6% Lust]

Zayela jerked.

"Nash?! What the hell are you doing?"

"Just showing."

He didn't back off completely. Stayed close. Close enough for her to feel him breathe.

"Unless you don't want me to."

[Trigger: Leaning in, pulling away → +7% Lust]

Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something. But didn't.

"You're breathing different," Nash said softly. "Are you okay?"

He didn't stop massaging. Pheromone Drift is hitting full effect now.He didn't need to check; he could see it, feel it.

He went thoroughly, smoothly, and steadily. Working around the tension. Each thumb-press earned more breath. Softer. Deeper. Less guarded.

Zayela was still tense, but not from anger. Her body had started giving in, subtle at first. Like a fight being lost one inch at a time.

[Lust: 59% | Affection: 75%]

Then she exhaled and… lingered.

Not a moan. But close.

Her breath caught again and then slipped. Her arms curled tighter under her stomach. Her legs shifted, knees brushing together slightly, thighs closer now.

Her hips shifted once. Then stilled.

Another breath. This one shaky, then...

A sound. Almost a moan. Almost.

Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor.

She froze, covering her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide open. Her legs squeezed together under her shorts like she was trying to hide everything below her waist.

Her phone slipped from her hand and hit the floor.

Nash kept quiet. Pretended nothing happened.

"…You okay?" he asked.

Nash didn't react. Didn't even lift his head.

"…Everything good?"

She was silent too long.

"…I think maybe we should stop now," she said, voice high, uncertain, not committing anymore.

He leaned in closer behind her ear. His breath touched the edge of her hair. She jolted.

"You don't want me to be useful?" he said. "Because it's too late, Zay. Tonight's your night."

Then he pulled back. Slow. Detached. Like he didn't care anymore.

Zayela blinked hard. Her breath hitched again.

[Trigger: Pull away → +7 Lust][Lust: 66%]

"You're a bastard," she whispered. But there was no anger in it. Just this cracked little smile she couldn't stop. Her head dipped, swaying slowly like she was processing too much at once.

Then, almost suddenly, she pushed up with her elbows.

"…Step back a sec."

Nash obeyed. No questions.

She stood, face turned away, chest rising fast.

Her back was damp now, streaked with sweat. A drop slid down from the side of her neck, tracing her rib.

She grabbed the hem of her tank top.

Stopped.

"…Turn around."

He turned. No hesitation. Just the sound of her shirt hitting the mat behind him and her breathing, now unmistakably affected.

"…Okay. Turn back."

He did.

Zayela was lying facedown on her mat. Topless. Her hair was draped over her arms. Her bare back glistened with sweat, the light catching every curve.

Her shoulder blades moved as she adjusted, chest flattened against the mat, rounded from the sides, her breasts barely hidden only by the angle and the way she'd pressed herself low.

"I'm not saying anything weird," she muttered. "But if you're serious about helping… you can do my back."