Chapter 148 | Sir Sucks-a-Lot

Something warm bloomed in my chest, dangerous and unfamiliar. I kissed her before it could take root, deep and slow and thorough.

When we parted, her eyes remained closed for a beat longer than necessary. She looked thoroughly fucked in the best possible way—hair a mess, lips swollen, skin flushed and marked with evidence of my attention. Beautiful didn’t begin to cover it.

"Are you hungry now?" I asked, my hands moving to her waist.

She grinned, eyes opening to reveal that pink gaze that haunted my dreams. "Depends on what you’re offering."

My body stirred with interest despite the workout we’d already put it through. "I think we can figure something out."

She laughed, rolling on top of me fully, her hair falling around us like a curtain. "You’re insatiable."

"Look who’s talking."

Her hands pressed against my chest as she sat up, straddling me. The sight of her naked body on top of mine, silhouetted by the fading light, was enough to make me fully hard again. She felt it, her eyes widening slightly.

"Already?"

I shrugged, unashamed. "What can I say? You have that effect on me."

She looked pleased with herself, rocking her hips slightly. "Good to know."

My hands found her thighs, squeezing gently. It struck me suddenly that I hadn’t even thought about extraction during our entire encounter. No milk, no points, no abilities. Just Naomi and me and this strange, warm feeling that kept threatening to swallow me whole.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, head tilted to one side.

"How fucking gorgeous you are," I said, which wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"I’m counting on it."

She leaned down, her hair tickling my chest as she kissed me. "Tell me more about Boston," she murmured against my lips.

And so I did. I told her about the snow in winter, how the city transformed under a blanket of white. About the T breaking down on the hottest day of summer. About the time I snuck into Fenway Park and watched half a game before security caught me.

All the while, she traced patterns on my skin, occasionally dropping kisses on my chest or neck or jaw. It was the most intimate thing I’d ever experienced, this quiet exchange of stories and touches. No agenda, no ticking clock, just... connection.

When my stomach growled loud enough to interrupt my story about a disastrous field trip to the aquarium, she finally conceded that maybe food wasn’t the worst idea.

"I think I have some ramen," she said, reluctantly sliding off me. "And maybe some cookies left over from what I baked last week."

"Cookies sound great," I said, sitting up and reaching for my boxers.

She grabbed my wrist, stopping me. "No clothes for you. House rule."

I raised an eyebrow. "Since when?"

"Since right now." She grinned, not a hint of the shy girl I’d first met visible in her expression. "My room, my rules."

"Yes ma’am," I said with a mock salute.

She pulled on an oversized t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh and disappeared into what I assumed was a small kitchenette area. I heard cabinets opening and closing, the rustle of packages.

"Do you want tea?" she called.

"Sure," I replied, settling back against her pillows and checking my phone.

Belle had texted back:

Taking care of your girlfriend while I hunt treasure. Very noble of you. Don’t forget you owe me dessert tomorrow.

I smiled, typing a quick response:

Wouldn’t dream of it. Happy hunting.

"Dinner is served," she said with a flourish, setting the tray between us on the bed.

Two cups of steaming tea, a plate of chocolate chip cookies that looked homemade, and two packages of instant ramen completed our feast. It was ridiculous and perfect.

"Five-star dining," I said, reaching for a cookie.

"Only the best for Sir Sucks-a-Lot."

I laughed and shook my head. "We’re going to need actual nicknames now, aren’t we? For all three of you."

"Why?" Naomi asked, genuine confusion coloring her voice.

"Because calling you all by your actual names during extraction sessions is going to get confusing real fast." I bit into a cookie, thinking. "Belle can be... what, Blue Fox?"

"That’s lazy."

"Fine, the Treasure Queen? No wait, that’s worse."

Naomi giggled, the sound making me grin like an idiot. "What about me?"

"Pink Lightning," I said immediately.

Her nose scrunched. "That sounds like a My Little Pony character."

"Storm Surge?"

"I’m not a weather event."

"Wave Dancer?"

"Better," she admitted. "What about Aurora?"

"Easy. The Orange Menace."

Naomi burst out laughing, nearly spilling her tea. "You can’t call her that."

"Watch me." I grabbed another cookie. "She threatened to blackmail me. Menace fits."

"She’s ranked twenty-three. She could probably kill you in your sleep."

"That just proves my point."

Naomi shook her head, her shoulders still shaking with laughter. "You’re going to get yourself murdered with that mouth."

"Worth it if I make you laugh like that."

Her expression softened again, that dangerous tenderness creeping back in. She set down her tea and moved closer, pressing herself against my side.

"You really don’t hold back, do you?" she asked quietly.

"Life’s too short." The irony of those words hit me immediately. My life was literally measured in days, hours, minutes ticking away in my peripheral vision. "Gotta say what you mean while you can."

"That’s... kind of sad actually."

I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her head onto my shoulder. "Or practical. Depends how you look at it."

She traced patterns on my chest through my shirt, her touch light and absent. "Belle’s the Treasure Queen. I’m Wave Dancer. Aurora’s the Orange Menace." She paused. "What does that make you?"

"Sir Sucks-a-Lot, apparently."

She snorted against my shoulder, the sound unladylike and perfect. "I can’t believe you just accepted that."

"It’s accurate," I pointed out. "What else would I call myself? The Essence Extractor? The Lactation Liberator?"

"Oh god, stop." She was laughing again, her whole body shaking. "Those are terrible."

"The Milk Marauder?"

"Worse."

"Captain Cream?"

She sat up, wiping tears from her eyes. "You’re the worst person I’ve ever met."

"And yet," I said, echoing her earlier words.

"And yet," she agreed, still smiling.

She leaned into my touch, her expression softening. "This is nice," she said quietly. "Just... being together. No pressure, no extraction, no team training."

"Yeah," I agreed, surprising myself with my sincerity. "It is."

We ate our makeshift dinner in comfortable silence, occasionally feeding each other bites or stealing sips from the other’s cup. When we finished, she took the tray away and came back to curl against my side, fitting there like she was made for it.

"Stay," she said again, more confident this time.

I kissed the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—something tropical and sweet. "I’m not going anywhere."

She yawned, snuggling closer. "Good. Because I’d have to hunt you down, and that would be exhausting."

"Can’t have that."

"Mmm," she agreed, her eyes already drifting closed. "Too much effort."

I watched as she fell asleep, her breathing evening out, her body going lax against mine. It should have been weird, holding her like this. It should have felt like a job, an obligation, a means to an end.

Instead, it felt like... home.

And that was fucking terrifying.