They didn't say a word when they walked through the faded pink curtain hanging just past the broken doorbell. The hotel lobby was barely more than a chipped counter and a bored clerk who didn't ask for IDs, just handed over a brass skeleton key with the number "503" scratched into the tag with what looked like a nail. It was the kind of place that didn't log names, didn't record hours. Just rooms and silence—or what passed for it.
The fifth floor smelled faintly of disinfectant and something sweeter, muskier beneath it—old perfume soaked into wallpaper. Oliver didn't comment when Aiko laced her fingers with his, dragging him down the dim hallway like she'd done this before. She stopped only to listen.
From behind one of the doors came a series of rhythmic thumps, a headboard or something like it. A woman's moans, high and breathless, mixed with the low rumble of a man's voice.
Aiko tilted her head slightly, listening. "Thin walls," she murmured.
Room 503 was on the far end. Aiko unlocked it with a twist and a little flourish of her wrist like she was performing for no one but herself. The door creaked open into soft red light and cheap perfume.
The room was painted in maroon and cream, but the colors were muted by the low, pinkish lighting from the fake crystal chandelier above the bed. One wall was mirrored. The other held a mounted television already playing a grainy adult video on mute. There was a vending machine near the bed stocked with condoms and lube and a garish velvet chair shaped like a heart in the corner. The bedspread was satin, wine-colored, and already wrinkled from whoever had used the room before them.
"Quaint," Oliver said, stepping inside.
Aiko closed the door behind them with a firm click, dropped her wand onto the bedside table, and turned to face him. Her eyes were strange in the red light—wide, bright, unreadable. Then, slowly, deliberately, she stepped forward and hooked her fingers into the lapels of his school blazer.
"You're overdressed," she said simply.
Oliver sat down on the bed, the mattress squeaking under his weight. The springs were old. Everything in this place was old. Except her. She stood above him like something out of place—sharp and alive in a room full of dead things.
Her fingers first moved to his cloak, unclasping it, then slid over his shoulders, pushing it and the blazer back. They slipped off easily, folding into a dark pool at his sides. Her touch was steady, almost clinical, but her gaze never broke. Behind them, from the other side of the wall, came another round of soft cries—someone else nearing their end.
Aiko smirked.
"I like it," she said, voice low. "Being close enough to hear someone else falling apart. Like echoes. Reminds me we're not alone. Just... louder."
Oliver's throat was dry. His hands twitched where they rested on the sheets. "You don't think this is a little much?"
"I think," she murmured, sliding a knee onto the bed, straddling him but keeping just out of reach, "you're still pretending this isn't already happening."
He looked up at her, the hem of her pleated skirt brushing his thighs. Her hair fell around her shoulders like ink, her breath soft against his cheek. The scissors weren't in her hands anymore, but the memory of them was.
He didn't speak.
He didn't move.
And when she leaned forward again, reaching for the next button on his shirt, her fingers moved slowly—almost reverently.
"I'm not asking you to love me," she said softly, fingers pausing at the third button, her gaze somewhere far away. "Just don't run. Not tonight."
A quiet moan filtered through the wall again, followed by a sharp gasp and a thud. The rhythm next door was relentless but distant. Almost surreal.
Oliver exhaled, long and slow. "Then don't give me a reason to."
She smiled faintly. Not mischievous this time. Not predatory. Just....
"No promises," she whispered.
And began to unbutton the rest.
Aiko's fingers paused at the last button, her eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a challenge in her gaze, but also something else—something softer that she didn't quite let show all the way.
"Last chance," she whispered, voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of pleasure next door. Her thumb traced circles on his chest where his shirt had fallen open, her touch light but deliberate.
Oliver's heart pounded in his chest. He could feel it against her fingertips, a steady drumbeat that seemed to echo through the room.
His hands gently found their way to her hips, not pulling her closer but holding on—an anchor in this strange sea of red light and soft moans.
"Is that what you want?" he asked quietly, his own challenge hanging between them like a dare.
Aiko leaned back slightly, her head tilting ever so slightly as if considering something far away from here—a thought or memory only she could see clearly enough to understand fully yet still remained elusive somehow despite its proximity within reachable grasp.
"No," Aiko admitted, before she leaned forward again, pressing her lips.
Aiko broke the kiss, her breath coming in soft gasps. She leaned back slightly, eyes locked onto Oliver's as she reached down and began to unbuckle his belt.
"Let me," she whispered, fingers deftly working at the buckle before moving on to his pants.
Oliver watched her intently; he didn't move or speak until she had his pants open and was pushing them down over his hips.
"Lift up," Aiko commanded softly when they got stuck around mid-thigh.
He complied, lifting his hips off the bed just enough for her to slide them down further until they were bunched at his knees.
Aiko looked up at him from under long lashes before leaning forward and taking him into her mouth without warning or preamble.
Oliver's breath hitched in surprise but quickly turned into a low groan as she began to move—her tongue swirling around him before taking him deeper. Her hands gripped his thighs, nails digging in slightly as she set a steady rhythm.
The room filled with soft sounds of pleasure—his ragged breaths mingling with her wet noises—and occasional muffled cries from next door served only to heighten the moment further still...
Aiko looked up at Oliver again after some time passed; their eyes met briefly before she returned focus back onto the task at hand—her head bobbing slowly up and down while one hand worked him from base to tip, matching pace perfectly with the movements of her mouth...
Aiko's eyes fluttered closed as she took him deeper still—her throat relaxing around him. She could feel his gaze on her, hotter than the red light casting shadows across their skin. It made her pulse quicken—made her want more than just this.
She pulled back slightly—just enough so that only the tip remained between her lips—and looked up at him through hooded eyes.
"Touch me," she whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds they were making together.
Oliver hesitated for a moment before reaching out, his hand gently cupping the back of her head as he began to caress it. He wasn't sure if this was what she had in mind, but judging by the eager look in her eyes, it was enough.
Aiko hummed softly, the vibration sending a jolt through Oliver. Aiko, still between his legs, reached up and grabbed one of Oliver's hands. She guided it down to her chest, pressing his palm against her breast through the thin fabric of their shirts.
"Touch me here," she whispered again before taking him back into her mouth.
This time when she looked up at him, there was a challenge in her eyes—daring him to keep pace with what she wanted from both ends.
Oliver's hand moved tentatively at first—squeezing gently before finding the hard peak of her nipple and rolling it between his fingers.
Aiko moaned around him, sending vibrations through every nerve ending he had. She reached down with one hand and began to touch herself—her fingers moving quickly over slick folds as she continued to work him with mouth and tongue.
The room filled with their combined sounds—the wet noises from both ends echoing off the walls while muffled cries next door added another layer of intensity. They were lost within together...
Aiko's fingers moved faster now—her breath coming in short gasps around him as she chased her own release.
She could feel Oliver getting closer too—his hips lifting slightly off the bed with each thrust into her mouth. She could taste salt on her tongue—knew he was close.
"Come for me," she whispered before taking him deep again, her fingers working furiously between her legs.
He groaned loudly—his grip tightening on the sheets as he did exactly what she asked. She felt him pulse in her mouth—felt his release hot and thick on her tongue.
At the same time, she cried out—her own orgasm ripping through her body with such force that it left stars dancing behind closed eyelids. She continued to move her fingers until the last wave subsided—her body shuddering slightly before going limp.
She pulled back slowly, licking her lips as she looked up at him with hooded eyes. "Now," she said softly, "it's your turn."
The room around them seemed to be still, the dim amber glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The low hum of distant moans bled faintly through the paper-thin wall behind them—rhythmic, breathless, like the building itself was alive with need.
Aiko's breath hitched as Oliver grabbed hold of her arms and pulled her up onto the bed beside him.
"Fine~," he said softly, his voice a murmur. As he spoke, his body quietly absorbed and refined the Yin energy Aiko had unknowingly passed to him through their exchange. Then, with deliberate gentleness, he placed his hands on her shoulders and eased her back until she was lying down.
He stood up and quickly removed what remained of his clothes before kneeling between her legs. His gaze was intense—focused solely on her.
He leaned down, his breath hot against sensitive skin as he whispered, You taste so fucking good."
Then his tongue found that spot—her clit throbbing already from earlier. He licked and sucked—his fingers joining the party soon after—stretching her, filling her.
Aiko's back arched off the bed—her hands fisting in the sheets as she moaned loudly, Yes...yes...right there..."
Her hips moved in time with his movements—seeking more pressure—more friction—as she chased another orgasm building deep within her core.
Aiko's moans grew louder, her body tensing as Oliver's tongue and fingers worked in perfect sync. She could feel it building—her release just out of reach.
"Don't stop," she gasped, hands tangling in his hair, holding him against her.
He didn't. Instead, he slipped a third finger inside her—curling them upwards to hit that spot deep within while sucking hard on her clit.
That was all it took.
Aiko cried out—her entire body convulsing as she came hard against his mouth. He continued licking and sucking—riding out her orgasm with her until she was left panting and boneless beneath him.
He looked up at her, a smug smile on his face.
"Show off," Aiko breathed out, a lazy smile playing on her lips. She reached down and ran a hand through Oliver's hair before tugging gently.
"Come here," she said softly.
He crawled up beside her, his body pressing close against hers. "I hope you aren't expecting a kiss," he said, even though he knew his Yang energy had already burned away the last traces of his semen from her mouth.
"You don't want to? But I'm pretty sure I did a good job swallowing it," she teased, then smiled slyly. "But okay—here's a little magic trick."
Butterflies fluttered from her mouth as the fresh scent of mint followed, shimmering in the air. "Ta-da. All clean. Happy now~"?
He chuckled. "Definitely~"
Then he leaned in and kissed her—letting her taste herself on his lips.
She wrapped an arm around his neck and deepened the kiss—her leg hooking over his hip to pull him closer still.
"Again?" he asked against her mouth when they finally came up for air.
Aiko grinned wickedly. "Why not? We've got all night."
And with that challenge thrown down between them once more, they began again.