Lira's hand trembled as she sat there, knees folded, frozen on the edge of the bed. Cruxius's words kept echoing inside her head like a poison—her sister, the academy, the debt. It all wrapped around her like chains.
Cruxius didn't move.
He just lay there, one arm tucked under his head, eyes half-closed. His chest rose in a slow, steady rhythm. He looked like he could sleep through a storm—but the thick shape between his legs told a different story. Even at rest, his cock twitched slightly, growing fuller with each breath. Waiting.
"You bastard," she muttered under her breath. Her voice cracked with shame she hated showing.
But her hand still moved.
First a twitch. Then a slide. Just a few inches toward him.
She sat beside him, stiff, not daring to look at his face. Her fingers hovered above his stomach, unsure.
"This is pathetic," she said, more to herself than him.
And then she touched him.
