Chapter 205: Poking in the Wrong Places

Chapter 205: Chapter 205: Poking in the Wrong Places

I spun my wrist hard and forced the automatic links to freeze mid-air.

’Stop.’

Giselle took a sharp step back, red eyes narrowing.

"What are you doing?"

"Ah..."

The voice inside my head giggled.

My other hand rose without permission.

Fresh chains erupted, coiled around both of my arms like living ropes, and yanked.

The world rotated.

I flipped spectacularly, landed flat on my back with a grunt, and stared at the ceiling lights while the horned tip of the retracted tail gave a smug little twitch against my spine.

[Hehe.]

I scrambled up, gathering every loose length back into my palms before they could stage another revolt.

Giselle had already formed her own set: bright red copies of my original design, and held them ready.

"Are you losing control?"

"Working on not doing that."

The chains in my hands darkened.

Blue-white bled into absolute black, the links growing heavier, hungrier, the edges taking on a faint, oily sheen.

Panic flickered in my mind.

’System, make them disappear. Now.’

No window appeared.

The black chains shot forward on their own.

Giselle met them with hers.

The moment the two forces touched, her red links shattered like glass under a hammer.

Fragments of copied mana scattered across the mat.

Her eyes widened.

"What?"

The black length that had destroyed her guard looped around her waist in a single smooth motion and pulled.

She flew forward.

I had half a second to brace before her body collided with mine.

The chain cinched tight, winding an extra turn around both of us so that her chest was crushed against my chest, hips flush to hips, one of her hands trapped between us and resting flat over my sternum.

The remaining length coiled once more for good measure, locking her thighs against mine.

We stood there, breathing hard, bound from mid-torso to mid-thigh by a single continuous black chain that refused to take orders from either of us.

Giselle’s voice came out low and dangerous.

"Revien."

"I know."

"Your chains are black."

"I noticed."

"And they just broke mine like they were practice string."

"Also noticed."

The position was unfortunate.

Because of the way the links had pulled her in, the hard line of my cock: half-aroused from the spar, the adrenaline, and the voice’s constant filthy commentary, was pressed directly against the soft heat between her legs.

Only two layers of combat fabric separated us.

Every small breath either of us took made the contact shift, rub, become impossible to ignore.

Giselle felt it.

Of course she felt it.

God, it’s so embarrassing.

A faint flush rose along the tops of her cheeks, but her expression stayed locked on pure irritation mixed with something hotter.

"Is that a training weapon," she asked flatly, "or are you just happy to see me?"

"It’s the chains’ fault."

[It’s a little bit my fault too.]

’Shut up.’

[Make me.]

[You’re the one with an Empress’s daughter ground against your cock in a locked room. I’m simply observing.]

Giselle shifted her weight, testing the binding.

"Stop this."

"I wish."

The movement dragged her exactly along the length of me.

Both of us inhaled at the same time.

Her trapped hand flexed against my chest.

"This is ridiculous...," she muttered.

"Completely."

"Tell them to let go."

"I already tried. They’re not listening."

She tipped her head back just enough to glare up at me.

The height difference forced her to press even closer.

Another slow, involuntary roll of her hips made the fabric between us grow noticeably warmer.

"If this is your idea of a confession method," she said, voice tight, "it needs work."

"It’s not a method. It’s a malfunction with awful timing."

[You’re welcome.]

I ignored the voice and tried to dissolve the black links through raw will.

They only tightened, pulling a startled sound out of Giselle when the pressure forced her onto the balls of her feet.

The new angle seated the hard ridge of my cock more firmly against her. She bit the inside of her cheek.

"Revien."

"Still here."

"Your malfunction is poking me."

"I’m aware."

"Do something."

"I’m open to suggestions that don’t involve me cutting my own legs out from under the binding."

She stared at me for a long second.

Then, against every expectation, the corner of her mouth twitched.

"You look ridiculous."

"I feel ridiculous."

"You’re hard."

"You’re not exactly helping the situation by moving."

"I’m trying to breathe."

"Breathing is moving."

The black chain gave a small, almost playful pulse, as if it were enjoying the show.

Giselle’s free hand, the one not trapped against my chest, came up and gripped my shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Whether she meant to push me away or pull me closer was unclear.

The result was another slow grind that dragged a rough exhale out of both of us.

[Kiss her,] the voice whispered.

[She’s already wet. I can feel the heat through you.]

[One good kiss and these chains will probably loosen out of pure satisfaction.]

’I am not taking romantic advice from the entity that just body-slammed me with my own power.’

[Suit yourself. I’m still going to watch.]

Giselle’s breathing had changed.

The irritation was still there, but underneath it something sharper and less controlled had begun to surface.

She was close enough that I could see the exact moment her pupils dilated.

"This is the worst spar of my life," she said.

"Top five for me."

"Only top five?"

"I have a dramatic history."

She made a sound that was almost a laugh and then immediately looked angry about it.

The chains binding us pulsed again. The pressure forced her hips into a tiny, helpless rock against me.

Her forehead dropped against my collarbone for half a second before she forced it back up.

"If you tell anyone about this—"

"I’ll deny it under truth serum."

"Good."

Another unavoidable friction.

My hands were still half-wrapped in the black links.

I couldn’t fully hold her without tightening the binding further.

The helplessness of it was starting to feel less like a combat failure and more like the setup to a very specific kind of porn neither of us had agreed to film.

Giselle’s voice dropped.

"Is your class doing this?"

"Partly."

"Can it hear me?"