Villain's Breeding System: Evolving 999+ Harem into an SSS-Rank Legion-Chapter 205 - Audience Needs to Sleep

"’I know,’" he said.

"’They’re slapping my CHEST — every time you — they keep—’"

PAH!

"’HNNGH~♡♡—’"

He reached under her.

His hand finding the front of her — the specific, relentless pressure of fingers against the place that had been building for the last forty minutes without direct attention, the accumulated heat of it receiving the specific, targeted stimulation.

"’NO — NO NOT AGAIN — I can’t — I already — three times I already—’"

"’Gia.’"

"’DON’T — DON’T say my name while you’re—’"

PAH! PAH! PAAAH!

"’AAAANNGHHHH~♡♡♡~~~!!!’"

The squirt hit the pool surface.

Her arms gave out. Her face met the ground, cheek to earth, her body still kneeling, his cock still inside her, her boobs pressed against the cool earth with the specific, full, flattened contact of flesh under gravity. Her nipples, against the ground. The specific, immediate sensation of cold earth against heat.

She made a sound that was not a word and continued for approximately four seconds.

"’Gorgeous,’" he said.

She had said that word about him, in the treeline, what felt like a lifetime ago.

She couldn’t answer.

At the secondary camp, Meijin had given up on sitting upright and was lying on her side. Facing the trees. Not facing away.

She was very still.

Her hands were beneath her. Not in a comfortable position. In the specific, deliberate position of someone who has decided where their hands go and is maintaining that decision through sustained effort.

She was looking at the shapes through the trees.

Aisha was not asleep.

She had been not-asleep for the full two hours. Her hands were still on her stomach. Folded. Still there. She was performing the most committed performance of sleep that anyone had ever performed while wide awake and increasingly aware of the specific, damp warmth of the fabric between her thighs.

Celia.

Was also not asleep.

Had not been asleep for a single second.

Was lying on her back with her eyes closed and her hands at her sides and her jaw so tight her back teeth hurt and her thighs pressed together with the specific, isometric force of someone trying to generate enough internal friction to manage a situation through pure compression.

From the main camp:

PAH! PAH!

"’—AAAHN~♡—Raven — Raven your cock is so — it’s so BIG — why is it — how is it that—’"

Preet’s voice. The specific, Delhi-market directness of Preet having an observation and making it regardless of circumstances.

"’—HNGH~♡♡—it’s in my BELLY — it always goes in my belly — my belly is so full — I’m going to be FULL forever—’"

Celia’s jaw tightened.

Her thighs pressed harder.

’Half an hour more.’

The specific piece of information that Celia had been keeping out of her awareness arrived regardless: she was wet.

Not ambient. Not the tropical humidity or the nearby pool or the general moisture of an island night.

Specifically, personally, specifically-about-what-was-happening-twenty-feet-away wet.

She had been wet for approximately two hours.

She lay on her back and looked at the canopy above and thought about this with the flat, clinical attention of someone who has identified a fact and is deciding what to do with it.

She decided to continue ignoring it.

From the main camp:

Silence for approximately thirty seconds.

Then:

"’I’ll give you a choice,’" his voice. Carrying. The specific, even register.

A pause.

Three women’s voices overlapping, indistinct.

Then his voice: "’The second option.’"

Then:

"’No — NO — that’s NOT — we said we wouldn’t—’" Gia’s voice.

"’It’s too small for—’" Preet’s voice.

"’I’ve already—’" Nara’s voice, quieter.

Then his voice, specific and aimed: "’I know.’"

A very long silence.

Then, from Gia: "’If I die—’"

"’You won’t,’" he said.

"’If I die,’" Gia said again, "’I want it noted that I said this was a bad idea.’"

"’Noted,’" he said.

PAH—

The sound that came out of Gia was different from the previous sounds.

All of the previous sounds had been the specific register of a body receiving something it had been built to receive.

This was the register of a body receiving something it had not been built to receive and was being introduced to the experience.

"’AAAGHHH — AAAGHHH — RAVEN — RAVEN THAT’S NOT — IT’S NOT — IT’S TOO—’"

"’Breathe,’" he said.

"’I AM BREATHING — HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO BREATHE WHEN YOU’RE—’"

"’Gia.’"

"’IT HURTS — IT HURTS IT ACTUALLY—’"

"’I know.’"

"’STOP SAYING I KNOW AND—’"

PAH.

"’NNGHH~!!!—’"

At the secondary camp, Aisha sat up.

She had sat up without planning to. The specific, involuntary response of a spine that has received input and has relocated upright before the decision was made.

She was sitting upright looking at the trees.

Celia had not moved.

Meijin had sat up too.

All three of them were sitting upright looking at the trees.

Nobody said anything.

From the main camp:

"’—HNGH — HNGH — I can’t — I can’t even — why does it — why does the pain feel like—’" Gia’s voice, the confused register of someone who is receiving a physical experience that is simultaneously two contradictory things and cannot resolve them.

PAH! PAH!

"’AAAHN~♡—NGH~♡♡—’"

"’Because,’" he said. His voice, through everything. Even. "’Your body is learning.’"

"’I don’t WANT my body to learn—’"

PAH! PAH! PAH!

"’AAAHNGH~♡♡♡—I TAKE IT BACK — I take back — I want my body to—’"

Aisha pressed the back of her hand against her own mouth.

"’I’m going to sleep,’" she said, through her own hand. "’I’m going back to sleep.’"

She lay down.

She did not go back to sleep.

’Three hours in.’

The sounds from the main camp had gone through several registers over the course of the night.

First: the specific, raw, unmanaged sounds of beginnings — the shock, the protest, the body discovering something new.

Then: the driven, escalating sounds of middles — the pace established, the bodies in their rhythm, the specific, continuous reports of flesh against flesh and the voices underneath that.

Then: the third register. The specific, late-night register of three women who had been going for three hours and whose voices had changed — deeper, rawer, without the self-conscious edges of the first register. The sounds of bodies that had stopped trying to manage the sounds.