Gon's Harem System
Chapter 178: In his room (18+)

Chapter 178: In his room (18+)

The room felt smaller now, the air thick with the warmth of their closeness, the faint creak of the floor under Gon’s boots as he shifted nearer.

Lena stood by the cot, her gray eyes locked on his, a mix of wariness and something softer flickering in their depths.

The moonlight from the narrow window cut a pale line across her face, catching the curve of her jaw, the dark strands of hair that had slipped free from their tie.

Gon didn’t rush, his hands found her shoulders first, light but firm, grounding her as he dipped his head.

His lips brushed the side of her neck, just below her ear, a soft press at first, testing the waters.

Her skin was warm, smooth under the faint roughness of his mouth, and he lingered there, letting the contact draw out, a slow burn igniting in his gut.

He kissed her neck again, firmer this time, lips parting slightly to taste the salt of her, a subtle trace of the day’s sweat, the pulse beneath her skin quickening under his touch.

His breath fanned over her, warm and deliberate, as he trailed lower, following the line where her neck met her shoulder.

One hand slid from her shoulder, fingers splaying wide as they roamed down her arm, tracing the lean muscle beneath her shirt, then curving to her hip.

The fabric was coarse, a barrier he pressed against, his palm flattening to feel the shape of her through it, solid, real, yielding just enough to stoke the heat building in him.

His other hand moved too, slipping up her side, slow and exploratory, brushing the edge of her ribs, the dip of her waist, mapping her like he was claiming every inch he touched.

Lena’s hands hovered, uncertain, floating near his chest as if caught between pushing him away and pulling him in.

Her fingers brushed his tunic, tentative, then pressed flat, not shoving, just resting there, a fragile anchor.

"Gon," she murmured, her voice a thread of sound, low and unsteady, maybe a warning, maybe a plea, he couldn’t pin it down.

He pulled back just enough to catch her gaze, his grin easing into something softer, a mask he wore with precision.

"Hey," he said, voice smooth as silk, a practiced lilt that rolled off his tongue. "I mean it. I’ve been thinking about you since the garden, couldn’t get you out of my head."

Lies, mostly, he’d thought of her, sure, but it was the pull of her resistance, the thrill of cracking her calm, not some lovesick knot in his chest.

Still, the words hit their mark; her eyes flickered, the guarded edge softening, and her fingers curled into his tunic, gripping the fabric like it was a lifeline.

He dipped back to her neck, lips finding that same spot below her ear, slower now, deliberate.

He kissed her there, open-mouthed, letting his tongue flick out just enough to taste her again, a faint tease that drew a shiver from her.

His hand on her hip tightened, pulling her closer, while the other roamed higher, skimming the curve of her side, brushing the underside of her chest through her shirt, bold but not rushed, feeling her out.

He pressed another kiss lower, near her collarbone, and let his teeth graze her skin, light, a scrape more than a bite, testing how far she’d let him go.

Her breath hitched, a sharp, ragged sound that broke the quiet, her chest rising fast under his hands.

He felt it, the jolt through her, the way her body tensed, caught on the edge of pulling back.

His lips curled against her skin, a silent triumph, and he grazed her again, teeth catching just enough to make her feel it.

She resisted a beat longer, her hands still on his chest, fingers flexing like she might push him off.

Her breath came uneven, shallow, the air between them thick with the tension of her holding out.

Then it broke, a soft sigh slipped from her, quiet but unmistakable, a surrender that rippled through her frame.

Her hands slid up, slow at first, then faster, finding his shoulders, gripping them as she pulled him closer.

The shift was electric, her resistance crumbling, her body leaning into his, and he felt the heat of her press against him, her pulse hammering under his lips.

That was his cue, the green light he’d been waiting for, and he didn’t hesitate.

He lifted his head, hands tightening on her hips, and moved to her mouth, kissing her hard, hungry, unrestrained, all the careful control from the hall’s crowded chaos gone in a heartbeat.

His lips crashed against hers, firm and demanding, a raw edge to it that matched the fire sparking in his veins.

He tilted his head, deepening it, his tongue pushing past her lips without pause, claiming the space she gave.

She matched him, her mouth opened, hot and eager, her tongue brushing his in a quick, bold flick that sent a jolt down his spine.

Her hands on his shoulders gripped tighter, nails digging through his tunic, and he could feel her rising to meet him, her breath fast and sharp against his mouth.

He pressed forward, stepping into her space, his body a solid line against hers.

One hand slid to her lower back, pulling her flush against him, while the other stayed at her hip, guiding her as he moved.

She didn’t pull away, her kiss was as fierce as his, lips moving hard, her tongue tangling with his in a messy, heated dance.

He could taste her, the faint bitterness of ale from the hall, the warmth of her, and it drove him on.

His weight shifted, nudging her backward, step by step, until her calves hit the cot’s edge.

She stumbled slightly, a soft gasp breaking their kiss, but he didn’t let up, kept her pinned with his hands, his mouth finding hers again, relentless.

The cot creaked under her as she bumped against it, her knees bending just enough to brace, and he loomed over her, the hunger in his kiss stripping away any last shred of the restraint he’d worn like armor downstairs.

Her hands slid to his neck, fingers threading into his hair, tugging him closer as she matched his pace, lips parting wider, her tongue bolder now, brushing his with a heat that matched the flush creeping up her skin.

He pressed her back harder, the cot’s frame digging into her legs, and she arched into him, her chest brushing his through their clothes.

The room shrank to just them, the faint groan of the cot, the rustle of fabric, the quick, uneven rhythm of her breath against his mouth.

He’d cracked her open, and now he’d take it all.