Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties

Wrath stood in front of Liam with his hands behind his back, watching him with the same look he always had, like a man who’d stopped being in a hurry a long time ago and made his peace with it.

"What I just did to you," Wrath said, "that’d fly in the arena. Nobody’d blink twice." He rolled the rock between two fingers, not looking at it. "But acceptable and surviving it, that’s not the same thing. Not at that level. Most fighters find out the difference the hard way, and they don’t get a second lesson."

Liam worked his jaw, checking his teeth were still where he left them.

"I hear you."

"Number Eight won’t come at you the way I did." Wrath’s voice didn’t change pace, didn’t need to. "He’s studied you. He’ll already know where he wants to end it before he steps in. Won’t be fair. Won’t be clean. Beg your pardon for saying it so plain, sir, but you should hear it from me before you hear it from him."

"No, you’re right to," Liam said. "I’d rather know now than find out mid-fight."

"Good." Wrath bent down and picked the rock back up off the ground where it had landed, turned it once in his fingers. "You’ve got instinct. That speed, going all in without flinching, can’t teach that. Either it’s in a man or it’s not." He looked at Liam a beat longer than usual. "It’s in you. Rest is just reps, if you’ll allow me to keep at it."

Liam gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t news to him. "Then teach me. I don’t need it to look pretty. I just need to be the one walking out."

"Alright sir," Wrath didn’t smile, but something close to it moved behind his eyes.

"That will be all for today."

Elena’s voice came from behind them making both of them turn instinctively.

She was standing at the edge of the training area, her arms loosely crossed, looking at Liam with the expression she wore when she had made a decision and was announcing it rather than discussing it.

Wrath looked at her. Then at Liam. He gave the small nod that was his version of several things simultaneously and then turned and walked toward the house with the unhurried stride of a man going nowhere in particular.

Liam watched him go and then looked at Elena.

She was already walking toward him.

---

They went inside through the glass door that connected the rear of the house to the main corridor, the afternoon warmth staying outside as the cool of the interior came around them.

Elena walked beside him and said nothing for the first minute, which was her version of organizing her thoughts before committing to them.

"I’m going to ask Wrath to hold back more," she said.

Liam looked at her. "Don’t."

"You took a hit today that moved you backward three feet," she said. "On a stone floor."

"On grass," he said. "And I’ve taken worse."

"That’s not the reassurance you think it is," she said.

They went through the main corridor and into the sitting room, the one with the wide couch and the windows that looked out over the east side of the grounds.

Liam dropped onto the couch and felt his body make several assessments about the day and report them all simultaneously.

The shoulder was the main complaint. The jaw was registering a secondary opinion.

He looked at the ceiling.

"I wanted it this way," he said. "If I go into that arena having been trained carefully and held back and managed, I’m going to get there and find that nothing prepared me for what actually happens. Wrath hitting me at something close to his actual level is the only way I know if I can handle what’s coming."

Elena stood near the window and looked at him.

"You could not handle what’s coming," she said. Not unkindly. Just accurately. "Not yet. That’s why we’re doing this."

"Exactly," he said. "So hold off on telling him to soften it."

She looked at him for a moment.

Then she exhaled and came away from the window and sat on the other end of the couch, angling toward him. She looked at his jaw, at the shoulder, at the general state of him, with the expression of someone doing an inventory they were not pleased about.

"Fine," she said.

"Thank you," he said.

"But if he breaks something," she said, "I’m ending the session regardless of what you want."

"Fair," he said.

She looked at him.

He looked at her.

Outside the window the grounds were golden in the late afternoon, the light sitting on everything at the angle it only sat at this hour, the trees along the boundary wall throwing long shadows across the lawn.

The house around them was quiet, Wrath somewhere else in it, Odessa somewhere else entirely, the whole place settled into the specific hush of a late afternoon with nowhere pressing to be.

Liam reached over and put his hand on her.

Specifically and without any particular announcement about it, his hand finding the curve of her ass where she was sitting and pressing lightly.

She looked at his hand. Then at his face.

"I’m exhausted," he said. "My shoulder hurts. My jaw has opinions. I am genuinely tired in a way I haven’t been tired in a while." He kept his hand where it was. "And I cannot get tired of you."

She looked at him for a moment.

Something moved through her expression that started as composed and ended somewhere considerably warmer.

He pulled her toward him and kissed her.

She kissed him back and her hand came up to the side of his face, careful of the jaw, which he noticed and which said something about her that she would never have said directly. He kissed her deeper and she pressed into it and the sitting room stayed quiet around them and the afternoon light kept doing what it was doing outside.

He moved her and she went with it, coming onto his lap, her knees on either side of him, her hands on his shoulders, and they stayed like that for a while just kissing, the tiredness in him present but secondary to everything else.

His hands moved from her waist to her ass, both of them, spreading across it, feeling the softness of it in his palms, and she made a small sound against his mouth that she hadn’t decided on.

She pulled back slightly and looked at him.

He looked at her face, the gold of her eyes in the afternoon light, the hair that had come slightly loose from whatever she had put it in during the training session, the small freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks.

"Here?" she said.

"Here," he said.

She looked at the window.

"The grounds are empty," he said.

She looked back at him.

Then she reached down and started on his shirt.

He let her work through the buttons while his hands stayed on her, not rushing her, just present and warm while she did what she was doing. When the shirt came open she pushed it off his shoulders and ran both palms across his chest, feeling the muscle under her hands, moving down across his stomach.

He reached up and found the zip at the back of whatever she was wearing and drew it down.

She helped him, shifting her shoulders, and the fabric loosened and he pulled it down and off her and it joined his shirt somewhere on the couch that neither of them was paying attention to.

She was wearing a pale bralette underneath, soft fabric, nothing structured, and he reached around and unclipped it and that went too.

He looked at her.

Her boobs sat full and pale in the afternoon light, her nipples already hard, the faint flush that started in her chest when she was warm already beginning to show. She looked back at him with the composed expression that had given up most of its composure about thirty seconds ago and was now just her.

He pulled her forward and pressed his mouth to her chest, his lips finding her nipple, and she made a sound and her hands went to the back of his head.

"Mm," she said. "Oh."

He kept going, his hands on her back pulling her closer, his mouth moving between them, taking his time with all of it, feeling her breathing change above him with each specific thing he did.

"Liam," she said.

He looked up at her.

She reached down and found his trousers.

They moved from the couch eventually, not dramatically, just the natural progression of two people and a piece of furniture that had its limitations, and ended up on the wide rug in front of the window with the afternoon light coming across both of them and the grounds empty and golden outside.

He moved over her and she pulled him down and they found each other with the ease of something that had become familiar without losing any of the feeling that came with it.

He started slow.

Long and deliberate, his weight over her, her legs around him, her hands on his back feeling every movement he made. The tiredness in his shoulder was present but distant, the way pain went distant when something else was more immediately relevant.

"Oh," she said. "Oh god."

He drove deeper.

"Haa," she said. "Oh. Right there."

He stayed right there and kept going, the afternoon moving around them, the light shifting as it always shifted at this hour, the house quiet except for the sounds of the sitting room and the sounds they were making in it.

She came with her hands pulling him toward her and her whole body given over to it, a long sound leaving her into the warm air of the room.

He followed her, his jaw tight, everything releasing at once.

They stayed still afterward.

Her chest against his. Both of them breathing.

The rug warm beneath them and the afternoon light sitting on everything at the angle it only sat at once a day.

He looked at the ceiling.

"If I can do that with you after today, maybe I’m not in as much pain as you thought, or maybe I need to do this every day after training," he said.

She turned her head and looked at him. "You need to ice your shoulder after training," she said.

"After that," he said.

She looked at the ceiling too.

"We’ll see," she said.

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