The room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mix that clung to every surface and permeated the air. The dim lighting cast long shadows across the walls, dancing with each movement of their bodies. The sound of moans and gasps echoed through thin walls—neighbors in nearby rooms lost in their own worlds of pleasure, adding an extra layer of decadence to the atmosphere.
Aiko knelt before Oliver on the floor—her body clad only in her slightly oversized shirt that barely covered her ass, a magician's hat perched jauntily atop her head casting shadows over her face, and black lace panties riding low on her hips. She looked up at him through hooded eyes as she took him into her mouth once again—the taste of salt and musk exploding on her tongue, making it water for more.
Oliver sat on the edge of the bed—his school shirt unbuttoned revealing a toned chest, pants pooled around his ankles with boxers still halfway on. He watched Aiko intently—his gaze dark and intense as she worked him with lips and tongue, driving him closer towards release.
The sound of their neighbors' passion grew louder now—their cries echoing around them, adding fuel to the fire burning between the two lovers lost within shared desire...
"We won't be able to get dressed like this," he murmured roughly—one hand tangling in hair, pulling Aiko closer while the other gripped sheets beneath tightly, trying desperately to find something solid to anchor himself against the storm raging within...
She hummed around him—in agreement or encouragement, it didn't matter because either way, it sent vibrations straight down the shaft, making everything more intense somehow...
Aiko could feel Oliver tensing above—his grip on her hair tightening as his release approached rapidly, now threatening to consume everything around them both once more...
She looked up at him—her eyes locked onto his intense gaze as she took him deeper still—swallowing him whole while simultaneously pushing him closer towards that edge again...
"Fuck...Aiko..." he groaned out—his voice strained with effort trying desperately to hold back until she was ready too...
But she didn't want him holding back—not anymore—so she hummed around him again, sending vibrations straight through the shaft, making it impossible not to let go completely...
He came undone then—his body convulsing as hot streams filled his mouth—each pulse pushing them both closer towards another peak despite already being spent physically from previous encounters...
Aiko swallowed every drop greedily—the taste of him now forever etched onto her tongue, making it water for more even after being satisfied just moments ago...
As he came down from high, Oliver released his hold on her hair, allowing Aiko to pull away gently, licking her lips clean before standing up slowly—her body still trembling slightly despite the recent release.
They both looked around the room, taking in the disheveled state, before finally meeting each other's gaze again—a silent understanding passing between two lovers who had just shared something intense and intimate beyond words themselves could ever describe accurately enough.
"Let's get dressed before we get distracted again, Oli Kun," Aiko said softly, breaking the silence hanging heavy between them while simultaneously reaching for the skirt lying nearby on the floor...
"Shouldn't I be telling you that?" Oliver said—his movements slow as he got up.
He pulled on his pants first, followed by his shoes, and then grabbed his blazer off the floor before finally pausing to look at the magician's cloak draped over the edge of the bed.
With a smirk, he picked it up—shrugging on one shoulder without actually wearing it completely before shoving the bowtie next to it into his pockets.
Aiko watched him as she buttoned up her shirt, hiding the curves beneath while also adjusting the magician's hat atop her head, ensuring it sat at a jaunty angle once more.
Together they stood there for a moment, simply taking each other in.
"Ready?" Oliver asked, finally breaking the silence hanging heavy around them.
Aiko smiled softly back before replying confidently, "Always."
Aiko stepped closer instead of heading for the door, her skirt still slightly askew, her hat casting a shadow across her eyes. Her arms slid around his waist, pressing herself flush against him in a slow, lingering hold. She rested her cheek against his chest and let out a soft breath, warm against his shirt.
Oliver didn't flinch or stiffen. He simply let her stay there, his hand resting on the back of her head, fingers weaving through her hair in idle circles.
"I might get pregnant after this," she murmured, her voice unhurried. "I didn't use any magic to stop it. Thought you should know."
His fingers paused briefly in her hair, then resumed. "Yeah?" he said, his tone unreadable.
Aiko nodded, still holding him. "I could have made you put on protection—but I'll admit, I didn't want you to. I wanted to feel everything. No buffers. Just you."
She pulled back slightly and looked up at him, mischief dancing behind her lashes. "Also… sorry for confiscating your gift earlier. I had to wear it—to keep all your baby batter inside me."
He raised a brow, but his expression didn't shift much beyond a faint smirk. She stepped back just far enough to lift her skirt slightly, flashing the very panties she'd gifted him earlier. "I'll give you a freshly worn pair next time. I owe you that much."
Oliver exhaled through his nose, amused. "You're insane."
"And you love it," she whispered, tapping a finger against his chest before fixing her skirt properly.
He grabbed his school bag from the floor, the black ribboned gift box she'd given him resting on top of it. He didn't open it. Just tucked it under his arm, hoodie sleeve from inside peeking out slightly.
Aiko adjusted the magician's hat on her head again, checking herself in the mirror near the door. She straightened his collar for him next, fingers brushing his neck with lingering fondness.
"Let's go," he said simply.
"Mm." She nodded, fingers still linked with his. "Before the bed pulls us back in."
They stepped out of the room together, the soft chime of the hotel door closing behind them—two silhouettes walking down the quiet, dim hallway, a mix of uniforms and secrets shared between them.
The night air was cool and crisp as Oliver and Aiko stepped out of the love hotel. Neon lights flickered softly along the quiet alley, casting long, colorful reflections on the wet pavement. A distant hum of traffic blended with the low buzz of a vending machine, and somewhere nearby, the faint hiss of ramen being stirred drifted from a late-night stall.
Aiko winced the moment her foot hit the sidewalk, her legs buckling slightly beneath her.
"Oli-kun," she mumbled, clutching his arm. "My legs… you ruined them…"
He gave her a sidelong glance, not stopping. "Your fault for riding like that."
She pouted, leaning into him dramatically. "Piggyback. Please. I seriously can't walk."
With a quiet sigh, he crouched down in front of her. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood."
Aiko smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck as she climbed on. Her chin rested on his shoulder, breath tickling his ear while her legs locked around his waist.
"Ne, Oli-kun," she murmured softly, her voice low and teasing. "What should we name our baby?"
Oliver smirked, his footsteps echoing faintly down the quiet street. "Can't you just buy a pill or something?"
Aiko gasped, then let out a soft, overdone sniffle, nuzzling against him. "So mean… Don't worry, Miyahara Sakura, mama will protect you… even if your daddy doesn't want you…"
He laughed under his breath, almost stumbling at her performance. "Miyahara? That your family name?"
"Mhm," she hummed, patting her belly with exaggerated care.
"Well, if you're serious about keeping it, then sure. But I'd probably end up in prison."
"Eh? Why?"
Oliver gave her a glance over his shoulder. "How old are you?"
She leaned in closer, brushing her lips by his ear. "Eighteen."
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Why? Did you think I was younger~?" she teased, her tone dripping with playful menace. "What a bad boy… and you still went that far thinking I was, Oli-kun… or should I call you Pedo-kun?"
He groaned. "Don't. Start. That."
"Pedo-kun~," she whispered sweetly, clearly enjoying herself.
"Stop that before someone gets the wrong idea."
Just then, her stomach gave a soft growl, cutting through the banter.
"I'm hungry," she announced.
"Of course you are."
"Well, I am carrying your child, remember?" she said with mock seriousness. "That takes calories."
She pointed dramatically toward the nearby street where a few late-night eateries still had their lanterns lit and steam rising through open windows.
"There's a yakisoba place up ahead. I want melon soda too."
Still clinging to him, she gave a satisfied sigh.
With a quiet shake of his head and a half-smile, Oliver kept walking into the glowing night, her laughter light against his back as the city pulsed gently around them.
The yakisoba place was just a block away now, its soft orange lanterns casting lazy shadows on the pavement. Aiko had been humming nonsense into his ear, occasionally switching between humming a lullaby for Miyahara Sakura and teasing him again with that damn Pedo-kun nickname she'd latched onto.
"Y'know," she whispered, "If you really go to jail, I'll smuggle melon pan in every week for you. With extra filling. Maybe hide notes inside."
"Wow. True romance," Oliver said dryly. "Can't wait to be a prison husband. Hopefully they'll let me wear the pink hoodie you gave me."
Aiko giggled behind him. "And I'll visit with Sakura-chan in matching toren pants. We'll be a family of criminals."
He snorted. "Crimes against fashion."
They turned a corner. A delivery truck passed by, its headlights painting bright stripes across the alley as a couple laughed while walking the opposite way. A distant siren cried and faded.
But then—
Nothing.
Silence fell, so sudden and absolute it made his skin crawl. It wasn't the hush of a quiet street, but the unnatural stillness of a dream slipping into something else. The air went cold—not sharp, but empty. Hollow.
The weight on his back was gone.
Oliver froze, shoulders tensing. "Aiko?"
He looked behind him.
Nothing.
His arms reached instinctively to touch where her legs should've been—wrapped tight, clinging to him. But he only felt fabric. His own back. Cold. Light.
"Aiko," he called again, louder now.
Stillness answered.
No cars. No footsteps. The distant laughter from earlier gone. He turned in a slow circle. The lights from the yakisoba shop were dead. No glow from the signs, no flicker of the vending machine across the street. Every window was dark, the street bathed in a dim grayness without source. Like a theater after the power goes out.
Oliver took a step back, and the sound of his foot hitting pavement was wrong. Flat. Muffled.
His breath fogged lightly in front of him, even though the night hadn't been cold before.
"Aiko?" he called again—this time unsure.
No answer.
Just the hum of absolute nothing.
Oliver's breath slowed to a shallow, controlled rhythm.
She's messing with me, he thought at first. Some weird illusion, a magician's prank. Maybe she slipped something in that kiss, maybe—
But the chill in his spine said otherwise.
He stilled.
The whispering was gone.
The scissors in his blazer—always murmuring just beneath his conscious thoughts ever since he'd cut that lock of Aiko's hair—were silent now. No bloodlust. No temptation. No presence. A sudden void in the place she'd filled.
His heart thudded once.
Then he moved.
Qi surged through his legs, flowing like water released from a dam. Flowing River Steps.
His form blurred—each step impossibly light, each pivot gliding across the pavement as if he danced on the surface of the world itself. The city around him remained dead and dim, caught in frozen silence. No flickers in the windows, no gusts of wind, not even the buzz of electricity overhead.
He shot down the street and vaulted up a fire escape with a twist of motion that seemed impossible by normal human standards. From the rooftop, he scanned the horizon.
Still no sound. Still no light.
Still no Aiko.
He closed his eyes and focused on trying to sense the mark of Qi he had left on her. He began reciting a simple technique that any cultivatior could use to track familiar Qi signatures with, and in this world without natural Qi to interfere or dampen the mark he had left on her he should have been able to find her.
Nothing.
Not even a trace of Qi.
And that's what truly set his nerves on edge.
"Not possible," Oliver muttered. He reached into his blazer pocket and touched the scissors. Cold. Dormant. Like an old blade stored away in a drawer for decades. And without their whispering, the surrounding shadows felt... different. Less hungry.
His mind flicked through possibilities.
Teleportation? Illusion? Or...
He straightened slowly, eyes narrowing as the weight of something deeper, older, began to press against the edge of his awareness. Not malevolent—not yet. But ancient. Watching.
The stillness wasn't natural.
This wasn't just Aiko vanishing.
The world had emptied itself.