Against the Algorithm

Chapter 57: The Space They Made

Yao whimpered at the image, her entire body flushing, heart racing. Her face burned, and for a second she couldn't form words, couldn't breathe past the knot rising in her throat. But then—softly, earnestly—she whispered, "Yes..." Her voice trembled, but her next words were stronger. "I'm not ready to go all the way yet," she said, just above a breath, her hand resting over his arm. "But... I trust you."

Sicheng groaned, so deep and low it vibrated through her back. His restraint was already unraveling, but he anchored it in her voice, in the feel of her trust. She slowly pulled her hand away from him, cheeks burning as she buried her face into the pillow, her thighs tightening slightly in anticipation. His hand moved as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then sank his teeth into the spot beneath it, not hard, just enough to mark her. To claim. Then he sucked softly, his free hand lifting to tilt her face gently back toward him. "Look at me." he whispered.

She did—wide-eyed, breathless, pink-cheeked.

And he kissed her.

Full.

Deep.

Lingering.

Their lips moved together slowly, open-mouthed and searching, her moan lost in the heat of his mouth as he kissed her like she was the only thing he'd ever wanted. When he pulled back, her eyes were glazed, chest rising and falling in shallow waves. He moved next. Slowly. Carefully. His hand slid down her front, fingers hooking into the edge of her underwear and drawing them down inch by inch over her hips. She trembled as the fabric peeled away, his touch ghosting over her thighs as he pushed them just far enough down for what he needed. He pulled himself free from his sleep pants, hissing through his teeth as the cool air hit him, his cock aching and flushed, throbbing from the way she'd touched him earlier. Then he reached down and guided himself forward. Between her thighs. Through her slick folds. The moment his bare skin slid through her wetness, nudging along her clit, her hips jerked, a broken moan escaping her lips.

"Oh—"

He groaned, deep and guttural, the heat of her slick coating him as he rocked forward again—slow, deliberate, dragging the thick length of himself along her heat, not inside, but nestled perfectly between her folds, the tip of him brushing her clit on every pass.

Yao gasped—tore a sound from her throat—soft, trembling, overwhelmed. Her hands fisted in the sheets. Her body rocked back into him without thought, meeting each slow, grinding thrust as she moaned again and again, helpless and open and flushed with want.

"Good girl," he whispered against her neck, voice shaking now, "You feel so good... so warm, so perfect—this, Yao, this is everything." And still he moved. Slipping and grinding, again and again, caught between restraint and the burning need to worship every inch of her.

They moved together in that slow, simmering rhythm—his hips rocking forward, hers instinctively pressing back, soft whimpers spilling from her lips with each pass of his thick length through her slick folds. The glide of his cock through her heat, not inside but nestled just perfectly between her thighs, made her thighs tremble and her breath stutter as the swollen head dragged again and again over her aching clit.

Sicheng groaned deeply, his voice raw as he pulled her tighter against him, his arm wrapped around her middle, holding her completely within the cradle of his body. "You're driving me insane," he whispered against her neck, each word filled with reverent hunger. "You feel so good, Yao. So warm... so wet for me. Letting me touch you like this... letting me feel you like this..." His mouth pressed against her skin again, open-mouthed kisses dragged along the soft curve of her shoulder, his teeth grazing lightly as his hips continued their torturously slow roll between her thighs.