#44
“Just one,” William said.
He wrestled the cap off the dark glass bottle, the metal scraping against the rim.
The cold glass pressed against his lips, a stark contrast to the rising heat of the day. He took a long, steady pull. The liquid was bitter, yeasty, and burned faintly just past his throat.
It tasted rough, slightly grimy, and fiercely potent.
He forced himself to maintain a neutral expression, swallowing the unfamiliar, bitter mouthful.
The alcohol, or whatever it was, punched through the morning’s warmth, igniting a hot sensation that spread quickly through his chest and belly.
He wasn’t exactly a beer guy, not in his old life, but here, now, it wasn’t so bad. It was just… different from what he was used to. In his past life, he preferred gin or vodka.
He took a second, smaller sip, a silent assertion to himself that he could handle it, then offered the bottle back to Eli.
The two women stared at him, unblinking.
Eli’s eyes, wide and a startling shade of blue, followed the trajectory of the bottle as she took it back.
She looked at the remaining liquid, then met William’s gaze. Her look was long, assessing, devoid of the mocking amusement he might have expected.
“Well, alright then, sweetie,” she finally said, her voice a low rumble. She replaced the cap with a sharp twist of her wrist, the sound a definitive punctuation mark.
“You really are changing things up this morning, aren’t you? First the hug, now the breakfast beer.”
A hint of a smile flickered across her lips, but it didn’t quite reach her worried eyes.
“Are you even old enough to drink a beer?” Eli’s brow furrowed, her concern genuine.
William shrugged, a casual gesture that belied the knot of unease in his stomach. “You’re the one who offered.”
“I was just joking… I didn’t think you were actually going to drink. I’m not going to be caught making a minor drink, right?” Eli’s worry intensified, her gaze darting around as if confessing to a crime.
A genuine, amused smile finally broke through William’s forced composure. Eli’s panic, while disconcerting in its own way, also sparked a flicker of appreciation within him. This world, for all its strangeness and the unnerving societal imbalance, possessed one distinct advantage: its laws.
They were strict and precisely defined, especially when it came to the protection and well-being of their scarce male population. And they were, he’d discovered, strictly implemented and executed.
Most people, he’d observed, were genuinely terrified of breaking them. This stringent legal framework, he believed, was precisely why he could jog and explore the district without constant fear of abduction or assault. Safety wasn’t absolute, not by a long shot, but it was a far cry from the gnawing anxiety he’d read about, the kind that plagued most men venturing outside in other regions or countries.
He recalled the snippets he’d pieced together from salvaged data, particularly from other countries. A world where men, while not entirely extinct, were as precious as a rare gem, a vital resource around which the entire societal structure was designed.
He understood Eli’s panic then. In this world, facilitating a boy-typically a minor’s consumption of alcohol would be a severe transgression, a risk that could have significant repercussions, especially for women. Imprisonment was a distinct possibility. Fines of several hundred dollars, a significant sum here, were also on the table. And William knew there were no blind spots.
He’d seen the CCTV cameras during his jogs, discreetly placed, constantly observing. The district’s authorities, whoever they were, were undoubtedly watching.
But there was no problem. He could ask Evelyn about this later. And the absence of any wailing sirens or approaching patrol vehicles meant they were choosing to turn a blind eye.
“Don’t worry, Eli,” he said, his voice calm and steady. “I’m old enough. And you’re not going to get in trouble. Believe me.”
Eli remained unconvinced, her frown deepening. So, William did what he did best – he moved. He walked towards her, and she watched him with a confused expression. Her surprise was evident when he turned and sat down in front of her, right between her legs.
“I’m eighteen,” he stated, leaning his back against her bare torso. He could feel the soft, ample curves of her breasts pressing against his back, a solid, comforting presence. He let out a sigh, a sound of contentment.
Eli’s breath hitched. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, but William could feel the rapid flutter of her heart against his spine. The scent of her, a warm mix of something floral and something distinctly hers, enveloped him. He’d noticed it before, a subtle aroma that clung to her, but now, pressed so close, it was more potent.
“Eighteen?” Eli’s voice was barely a whisper, laced with disbelief and a tremor of something else William couldn’t quite place. Fear? Awe? Excitement?
“Eighteen,” he confirmed, closing his eyes for a moment.
The coolness of the morning air, the warmth of Eli’s body, and the lingering bitter taste of the beer coalesced into a surprisingly grounding sensation.
He could feel her arms, tentative at first, then with growing confidence, wrapping around his chest. The pressure was gentle, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid of bruising him.
He leaned into the embrace, enjoying the amazing feel of her body.
“You… you really are eighteen?” Eli’s voice was steadier now, though still tinged with wonder. “You don’t look it. And you… You’re so calm.” She shifted slightly, her chin resting on his shoulder.
“Is it that weird that I am calm?”
“I guess so. I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve seen a lot of men. Those that I’ve seen kept their distance. Even my husband doesn’t allow me to touch him like this so easily,” she muttered.
“Well, I guess I’m different. I like women touching me~” William smirked.
Eli looked at him before snickering, “Oh? Even if I’m touching you like this?”
After she said that, she slid her hand under his crop shirt, cupping the bra covering his nipples.
William’s breath hitched, a small, involuntary gasp.
It wasn’t a gasp of shock or discomfort, but rather one of pure, unadulterated surprise, swiftly followed by a delicious wave of pleasure. Eli’s fingers, surprisingly deft, worked their way under the hem of his crop shirt, her palm warm against the thin fabric of the bra he wore.
It wasn’t a lacy, delicate thing, but a simple, supportive sports bra, chosen more for comfort during his jogs than for aesthetics. Yet, under Eli’s touch, it felt suddenly intimate, a flimsy barrier between her skin and his.
He felt the subtle pressure of her thumb against his nipple through the fabric, a soft, teasing friction that sent a shiver down his spine. His smirk widened, a genuine, unburdened expression of delight. This was new. And damn, if it wasn’t exhilarating.
“Oh?” he purred, his voice a low rumble, leaning back further into her embrace. The movement pressed him more firmly against her soft breasts, increasing the contact. “Is that an invitation, Eli? I thought you were worried about becoming a criminal?”
Eli’s breath caught again, her grip tightening almost imperceptibly.
He could feel the rapid thump-thump-thump of her heart against his back.
“… I am,” she whispered, her voice a little shaky, a captivating blend of apprehension and burgeoning desire. “But… you said you’re eighteen. And you said you liked it when women touched you. So, isn’t this consensual?”
Her fingers, bolder now, began to gently massage the area, a slow, circular motion that bypassed the fabric and seemed to resonate directly with his nerves.
William hummed, a lazy, contented sound.
“Yes, it is.”
He closed his eyes again, enjoying the sensation, the warmth, the scent of her, the unusual thrill of the moment. Suddenly, he heard a low growl- not from the older woman, but from beside them. Zabini.
He’d almost forgotten she was there, so engrossed was he in the older woman’s touch.
He opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, twisting his head slightly.
Zabini, younger, with sharp, hungry eyes and a perpetually restless energy, was no longer merely staring. Her lips were parted slightly, and her gaze was fixed, not on William’s face, but on Eli’s hand, then on the subtle, tantalizing outline her fingers made beneath his shirt.
Her face, usually a canvas of youthful impatience, was now flushed a deep crimson. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides, and her entire posture radiated a mixture of envy and intense longing.
“Hey!” Zabini finally blurted, her voice hoarse, a desperate squeak that seemed to battle against the dryness in her throat. “That’s… that’s not fair, Eli! You can’t just… hog him!”
Eli, startled, pulled her hand back as if burned.
William felt the sudden absence of her warmth keenly, a small pang of disappointment. Eli’s cheeks were also flushed, probably from the combined embarrassment and surprise of being called out.
“Zabini!” Eli admonished, her voice sharper, more familiar. “Mind your manners! And lower your voice, for fuck’s sake!”
William, however, found himself chuckling.
“Hog me?” he repeated, turning his head to look directly at Zabini, a playful glint in his eyes.
Zabini visibly gulped, her eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. She seemed to shrink under his direct gaze, but her desire, William noted, was still fiercely present.
Her gaze flickered from William’s face down to his chest, then back to his face, as if she couldn’t decide where to focus. How cute. She’s clearly a virgin.
“Th, that’s…” she stammered, her words tripping over each other. “Just… It’s not fair! You got to… to touch him! And I’ve been sitting here… admiring him!”
The last word was a desperate plea, almost a whine.
William raised an eyebrow, genuinely amused.
“Admiring, you say?”
He turned his body slightly, making it easier to see both women, though he remained seated between Eli’s legs, enjoying the foundational support she offered.
“So, you want to ‘admire’ me up close too, Zabini?”
Zabini’s eyes widened a fraction further, and her flush deepened. She swallowed hard, her Adam’s apple bobbing.
“I… I would like to, yes,” she managed, her voice barely a whisper, but laced with a newfound determination.
She glanced at Eli, a silent challenge passing between the two women before her gaze snapped back to William.
“I want to feel… what Eli felt.”
Eli sighed, a long, exasperated sound, but William felt a subtle shift in her posture. She seemed to be relaxing, a flicker of something akin to maternal indulgence mixed with her own simmering desire. She knew this was happening. She might as well direct it.
“Zabini, you’re insatiable,” Eli muttered, but there was no real heat in her words. She instead reached out, not to William, but to Zabini, and pulled her closer.
“Alright, alright. But gently, you hear? He’s not a plaything.”
William grinned inwardly. Oh, he was absolutely a plaything, in the best possible sense. After all, he’s really enjoying watching these women squirm, looking at him with lust and desire. It’s an experience men would die to have. It was intoxicating.
Zabini practically scrambled forward, her earlier shyness evaporating like morning mist under a scorching sun. She moved to William’s left side, kneeling awkwardly beside him, her face alight with an almost feverish excitement. She peered up at him, her eyes wide.
“Can I… can I touch you, ah, ahm…”
“William, but just call me Will, if it’s a mouthful.” William, ever the nonchalant provocateur, simply leaned his head back against Eli’s chest, meeting Zabini’s eager gaze with a calm, inviting smile. “And yes, you can, Zabini. Just remember what Eli said, ‘gently’.” he made a playful sound at the end.
“William…”
Zabini called out his name as if she were in a trance. And then with newfound courage, her hand shot out.
Unlike Eli’s tentative approach, Zabini was more direct. Her fingers, cooler than Eli’s had been, slid directly under the hem of his crop shirt, bypassing the bra entirely. Her palm flattened against his bare skin, just below his left nipple.
A jolt, sharper than before, shot through William. Her hand was surprisingly firm, yet her touch was hesitant, as if she were a young explorer encountering a new, wondrous landscape. He felt the rapid flutter of her pulse against his ribs.
“Oh my…” Zabini breathed, her eyes closing for a moment, a look of pure bliss washing over her face. Her fingers flexed slightly, not pinching or grasping, but simply savoring the warmth of his skin. “He’s so… soft.”
Eli snickered from behind him, her arms tightening around his chest in a possessive gesture.
“What did you expect, Zab? He’s a man, not a machine.”
There was a proud, almost proprietary tone in Eli’s voice now, as if William’s softness was a personal achievement.
William felt a wry smile play on his lips. Soft. He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment in his old world, but here, in this world dominated by physically stronger women, it seemed to be a highly valued trait amongst men.
He searched for a reason, but apparently, it was just the same as in his previous world, albeit with the genders reversed, as usual. Just like how most men preferred a soft, curvy woman over a muscular one, women in this world preferred slender men because, apparently, it spoke of a certain vulnerability, a preciousness that needed to be protected. The feeling of wanting to protect, rather than be protected.
“I’ve never touched a man’s skin before,” Zabini confessed, her voice thick with emotion, her fingers still gently caressing his side. “Only seen them from afar, or in pictures.” She paused, then added, almost reverently.
“I thought you said you had fucked a lot of men before?” Eli snickered.
Zabini’s face immediately turned flushed. “Sh, shut up!”
Eli burst out laughing, making Zabini even more embarrassed.
William also joined the laughter and looked at the young woman. Her face now was so close he could see the faint freckles dusting her nose. Her eyes, when they met his, were shimmering with an intensity that bordered on reverence.
“So, is it everything you imagined?” William teased, enjoying the effect he had on her. He leaned into her hand slightly, inviting her to be bolder.
Zabini let out another soft gasp, her fingers twitching, her thumb now tracing the faint outline of one of his ribs.
“More,” she whispered, her gaze locked onto his.
“So much more.”
Her eyes dropped, not to his chest, but to his mouth, then back up to his eyes.
Eli cleared her throat again.
“Alright, that’s enough, Zabini. Don’t get carried away.”
But despite her words, William still felt her arms around him, a comforting, secure embrace, and her chin remained resting on his shoulder. He felt the older woman’s other hand, the one not under his shirt, subtly stroking his hair, a gentle, almost unconscious gesture of affection.
“You’re just jealous, Eli,” Zabini retorted, though her voice was still hushed, her focus almost entirely on the man before her. She was slowly, carefully, letting her fingers explore the contours of his side, marveling at the smooth expanse of his skin.
It was clear she was trying to adhere to Eli’s “gently” rule, but her innate curiosity and desire were pushing her boundaries.
There was a raw, unadulterated hunger in her eyes that William found both unnerving and deeply flattering.
“Perhaps,” Eli conceded, a low chuckle rumbling in her chest, which William felt against his back. “But we’re still on duty, you two. We can’t just spend all morning… petting our precious kid here.”
“Precious kid?” William echoed, a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at Eli. “Is that what I am to you, Eli? A kid?”
Eli’s embrace tightened playfully.
“You are to me, boy. Remember, I’m almost the same age as your mother, and you, my dear, are turning out to be quite the handful.” She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear, sending a delicious shiver through him. “A very welcome handful, though.”
Zabini, meanwhile, had grown bolder. Her fingers, having explored his side, were now inching upwards, toward the thin strap of his sports bra, her gaze fixed on the subtle swell of his chest. Her breathing was shallow and quick.
A kid… William snickered. Well, look forward to what this kid can do to you, then.
…
