Transmigrated As An SSS Ranked MILF Overlord
Chapter 139: Something Different (R18)(2)

Chapter 139: Something Different (R18)(2)

Fiona’s footsteps whispered against the damp earth as she wandered, eyes flicking side to side. She wasn’t entirely sure what she was searching for—only that something within her urged her onward. Her boots pressed into the soil with quiet rhythm, each step pulling her farther from the safety of the camp.

And still, she walked.

The trees rustled overhead, filtering early morning light through their tangled canopy. Fiona’s fingers brushed past low-hanging branches, her brows pinched in quiet thought. She didn’t notice how far she’d gone until the murmur of the campfire was a distant memory.

That’s when she saw him.

Steve sat perched at the edge of a gentle slope, a soft breeze tousling his hair as he stared out at the landscape below. The sunlight caught the edges of his face—calm, composed—but there was a heaviness to his expression, like someone bearing more weight than they let on.

His wounds had been treated, his posture upright, but his thoughts were adrift.

Morning already, he mused, brow slightly furrowed. Which means I’ll have to start tracking her again... Maggie. I wonder what it’s like for her—being alone out there. Surrounded by the wild, by darkness.

He sighed quietly. I need to move fast. There’s no telling what might happen.

Just then, the soft crunch of leaves made his ears perk. He turned slightly.

There she was—Fiona—standing just beyond the tree line, her figure half-veiled by the morning haze.

Steve blinked. "Mother... how long have you been there?"

Fiona gave him a small smile. "Just a few moments," she said softly. "Is something wrong?"

He looked away, flicking a pebble down the slope. "No, not at all." Then he gestured beside him. "Do you want to sit?"

Fiona hesitated. For a moment, she imagined herself beside him—close enough to feel the warmth from his shoulder, close enough to speak without raising her voice. Her cheeks warmed unexpectedly, and she quickly flicked her gaze to the trees.

"Um... no, thank you. I’m fine here."

Steve glanced at her, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks, the way she folded her arms—subtle signs of tension she likely didn’t even realize she was showing. He chuckled softly, amused but saying nothing.

The sound made Fiona glance his way again. "What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, still smiling faintly. "You’re just... being you."

She rolled her eyes but didn’t turn away this time. A moment passed between them—quiet, warm.

Then she stepped a little closer. "What were you thinking about?"

Steve inhaled deeply, the smile fading. "A lot," he said. "Too much, maybe."

"Like what?"

His eyes drifted back to the horizon. "Like how things aren’t unfolding the way I thought they would. Like how Mom’s still out there—alone. And it’s killing me not knowing if she’s okay."

Fiona’s expression softened. "You’re doing everything you can, Steve. You’re not alone in this."

"I know," he murmured. "But it’s different. She’s out there in the dark. I can’t stop thinking about it... about her."

Fiona didn’t press further. She simply moved to stand beside him, not sitting, but close enough that he could feel her presence—

Steve’s thoughts swirled with heat he couldn’t ignore.

God... the way she felt. The way she tasted.

He could still remember the softness of her breasts pressed against his mouth, the sweet warmth of her milk coating his tongue. That forbidden memory had carved itself into him, burned there like a secret he relived whenever he was alone.

His cheeks flushed—not from shame, but desire—and he shifted where he sat, casting a glance at Fiona.

"I’ve just... had a lot on my mind lately," he murmured, voice thick with something unsaid. "And... I don’t know. I think she really needs us. Being out there alone like that..."

Fiona’s gaze lingered on him, reading the tension behind his words. She licked her bottom lip absently before replying.

"Yeah... I’ve felt that too."

Steve’s leg bounced lightly, his fingers tapping his knee. Then he turned back to her, eyes dark with a question he hadn’t asked yet.

"That’s just what I’ve been thinking about," he said. "What about you? What’s been on your mind?"

Fiona looked down, hesitating. Her thighs pressed together without thinking. Something about his voice, his presence—it pulled at her.

"Um..." she exhaled slowly. "Nothing much."

Steve tilted his head, a crooked smile touching his lips.

"Nothing at all?" he asked, tone skeptical, teasing.

She nodded, but he wasn’t buying it. Not with the way her eyes kept dipping to his mouth. Not with the way her breath had started to quicken.

"If it was really nothing," he said, voice lowering to a slow hum, "you wouldn’t have come all the way out here looking for me."

Fiona looked up, cheeks flushed. "I was just... worried about you."

He chuckled—quiet, knowing.

"Yeah," he said, "I guess you were."

Another silence, but this one was heavier—charged.

Steve leaned a little closer, his voice soft but pointed.

"Now that you’ve found me... what do you want to do?"

Fiona’s breath caught in her throat. Her thighs clenched again, and she couldn’t quite meet his gaze.

"Huh?" she whispered.

His eyes never left her face. "I mean... it’s just the two of us. Out here. No one watching. Just like before..."

The air between them shimmered with something unspoken. His voice dipped, smooth and coaxing.

"So... Fiona," he whispered, leaning just close enough for her to feel his warmth, "what do you want to do with me?"

Her skin prickled with heat. She could still feel the ghost of his mouth on her body, the way he had held her like he needed her more than air. Every nerve ached for him. She bit her lip.

"I... don’t know," she whispered, but her body said otherwise—her breath shallow, her chest rising and falling, her legs inching open just enough to answer for her.

Steve smiled slowly, his fingers brushing the space between them.

"You sure about that?"

Fiona glanced at him again, her lashes fluttering like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to meet his gaze or avoid it completely.

"I... I don’t know," she murmured, voice low and almost breathless.

"What do you want to do?"

Her eyes flicked to his, searching, nervous. Steve leaned in slightly, the air between them thick with heat and memory. His voice was soft, but it dripped with suggestion.

"Me?" he asked, lips curving into a slow grin.

"I was thinking... how about what we did that morning... before you left?"

That made her still.

Fiona’s eyes darted up to his face, and a knowing smile tugged at her lips as a flush crept across her cheeks.

"You remember that?" she asked, feigning surprise—but they both knew it wasn’t real.

Steve’s gaze darkened, lips twitching into a smirk. "You really thought you could just do that and walk away and I wouldn’t notice?"

She giggled under her breath, tilting her head just slightly. "You’re just too good at this," she said, voice husky.

"I can’t... I can’t stop myself when you’re between my legs like that."

The words hung in the air like smoke. Steve exhaled slowly, his breath thick with restrained want. Something primal flared in his eyes.

He stood up from the slope, his body towering above hers. The fabric of his shirt clung to him—sweat glistening along the lines of his throat, collarbone, and chest. Fiona’s eyes wandered, taking in the sight without apology. Her thighs pressed together unconsciously.

When he stepped down toward her, she didn’t move—only looked up at him with parted lips and heat in her gaze.

"Thank you," she whispered, voice small but sincere.

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped behind her and slid his arms around her waist, tugging her back gently against his chest. She gasped as one hand stayed firm at her midsection, grounding her—while the other traveled lower, slipping beneath her waist and finding the curve of her ass.

He squeezed it—slow, firm, greedy. A rumble of satisfaction escaped him as he leaned down, his mouth brushing the shell of her ear.

Fiona whimpered, her breath catching in her throat. Her body reacted before her mind could think—a subtle arch in her back, a tilt of her hips pressing herself more firmly against him. He felt the way her muscles tensed, the way her body trembled under his hand.

"How about..." Steve murmured, sliding his hand further down, the tips of his fingers grazing the sensitive inside of her thigh.

"...we go somewhere darker... wetter... like that time under the cloak, remember?"

Fiona’s entire body flushed. She turned slightly in his arms, biting her lip, and looked up at him with eyes glassy and half-lidded.

"Actually..." she breathed, voice thick with need,

"I was thinking of something even more different."

Steve looked at her, eyes steady, curious. The way she shifted beneath his gaze told him everything—nervous fingers brushing over her thigh, her teeth grazing her lower lip, her cheeks already painted with color.

"Different how?" he asked, voice low and edged with something darker now. Something expectant.

Fiona swallowed, hard.

Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

"I just... we never really get time to be close. Not like we want to."

He didn’t interrupt.

She took a breath, eyes darting to his before falling away again.

"But... I don’t want to take the risk of getting pregnant." she whispered, cheeks blooming red—deep and hot, like blood rushing under the skin.

She glanced up through her lashes, voice barely audible now.

"So I thought... maybe we could still be close, just... in a different way."

Her heart thundered in her chest. She could barely breathe, barely hold his gaze. But she didn’t have to explain it further. The way she said it—the hesitation, the implication—it was all there.

Steve’s jaw tensed, though he outwardly remained, but inwardly....

’Does she mean... she wants me to fuck her...in the ass?’