Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

Yao didn't answer right away. Her throat moved in a nervous swallow. But then, still half-flushed, still half-asleep, she whispered back, barely audible. "...Yes."

The sound cracked straight through him. He didn't rush her. He didn't roll her.

He simply moved one hand, still resting warm against her stomach, downward. Slow. Deliberate. His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her underwear, moving over the softness he found there, the heat of her already starting to pool. But before his fingers dipped further, he reached down with his other hand. Guided her leg. Gently. Carefully. Back and over his own.

Her breath hitched.

He leaned in again, lips brushing her cheek as he spoke, voice thick and low and steady. "You say the word," he murmured. "And everything stops."

Yao's head tilted, her body tensed for half a second, Then melted again into his hold. She didn't say stop. Didn't say anything at all.

So he moved and pressed his hips forward, slow, grinding the length of his arousal against the soft curve of her backside, his hand slipping lower, deeper, until his fingers brushed the heat of her, slick and warm beneath the cotton. Her whimper was breathless. Helpless. And when his fingers finally touched her—really touched her—she gasped softly, burying her face into the pillow as her body arched instinctively back into him.

Sicheng groaned, low in his throat, pressing another kiss to the shell of her ear. " Beautiful, " he whispered and then he started to move.

Sicheng's fingers moved slowly through her folds, his touch gentle at first, almost reverent, feeling every soft slip of heat, every twitch of her thighs as her breath stuttered through parted lips. "You're so warm," he whispered against the curve of her neck, the tip of his nose dragging lightly along her skin as he pressed another kiss just beneath her ear, "so soft... always so damn sweet." His fingers circled her again, slick with the evidence of how much she already wanted him. His thumb slid forward, brushing softly over her clit in slow, teasing sweeps that made her gasp and whimper as her hips twitched against his. Her body trembled in his arms. Every breath she took grew heavier, shyer, her hips rocking back ever so slightly, unconsciously chasing more of his touch. He felt her tightening already. And when she murmured his name, just his name, no question, no command, only a trembling whisper caught between need and trust, he groaned low in his throat, voice thick.

"That's it, Wǔ xiān," he murmured, the pet name like a prayer pressed into her skin. "You let me take care of you..." Then he slid two fingers deep inside and the gasp she gave was sharp, but not frightened.

Startled.

Flushed.

Her thighs clenched and her hand gripped at the sheets, hips bucking as he filled her completely, the stretch slow and real.

Sicheng's head dropped against her shoulder, his mouth parted against her skin, a deep, trembling groan escaping from his chest. "Gods," he breathed, voice ragged. "You're so tight, beautiful, so tight." He didn't move fast. He didn't need to. His fingers began to thrust inside her, slowly, purposefully, while his thumb circled over her clit with practiced patience. She whimpered again, her breath catching in her throat as her hips rocked back into his rhythm, her leg still hooked over his, body completely open to him now. And then he felt it. A shift in her. A change. Her hand moved. Hesitantly. Unsure. He felt the soft brush of her fingers at his waist—tentative, nervous—and then the slow, trembling slip of her hand under the elastic of his sleep pants. His whole body stilled. His breath caught as her hand found him. Wrapped around him. Soft. Inexperienced. Shy. But very much intentional.