Himeno's apartment felt exactly like her personality: a little messy, functional, and holding a well-hidden loneliness. Half-hidden empty alcohol bottles bore silent witness to long nights, and the faint scent of tobacco mixed with her expensive perfume. The air felt cold, pressing, as if it too was anticipating the tension that was about to explode.
As soon as the door closed, Himeno turned and pushed Tom against the wall, trying to regain the control that had eluded her all night. Her kiss was demanding, full of courage borrowed from alcohol and the lingering adrenaline from the fight still coursing through her veins. This was her territory, her game. She was used to being in control, setting the rhythm, pulling the strings. Her fingers clenched tightly on Tom's shoulders, her short nails digging in slightly, wanting to feel the skin beneath, to feel the substance of this man.
Tom, of course, simply let her. He enjoyed the resistance, the desperate energy Himeno exuded. For him, this wasn't about passion, but about character study. He could feel the slight tremor in Himeno's hands, the fear hidden beneath her false bravado. Fear of death, loss, loneliness. It was a delicious seasoning for the evening's entertainment. A thin, almost imperceptible smile, etched itself on his lips.
"You... you're not like the others," Himeno whispered between kisses, her breath ragged, trying to find a reaction, any tiny crack in Tom's fortress of calm. She felt Tom's hard muscles beneath her touch, and though she tried, she couldn't make Tom budge an inch. "You're not afraid. I like that."
"Fear is boring," Tom replied in a low, deep, trembling voice, easily reversing their positions until Himeno was now leaning against the cold wall. He took control with a gentleness that felt more dominant than any force. Tom's hands crept to Himeno's waist, his long, strong fingers gripping her hips with precision. Himeno could feel the heat from Tom's palms seeping through her thin clothing. "But you, Himeno-senpai... you're full of fear. That's what makes you so... alive."
Himeno froze for a moment. This man saw right through her, through all the layers of defense she had built over years as a Devil Hunter. He saw her fragility and didn't judge her, but instead seemed to find it alluring. It was terrifying, yet... captivating. A strange tremor spread between her legs, feeling the wetness begin to seep.
Their game continued on the bed, under the dim light of the nightstand lamp Himeno had forgotten to turn off. Tom slowly guided Himeno until her body gently fell onto the tangled sheets. Himeno's every attempt to dominate was met by Tom with almost insulting ease. She couldn't read Tom, couldn't influence him. She was a storm trying to shake a mountain, only to find that the mountain didn't even feel its wind.
Himeno's clothes were removed calmly, almost silently. Tom didn't tear them, but rather moved them aside with efficient movements that revealed every inch of Himeno's pale skin in the dim light. Tom's eyes swept over Himeno's body, observing every curve, every shadow created. There was an analytical sharpness in his gaze, as if Himeno was a puzzle ready to be solved. Her plump breasts and reddened nipples stood out, defying the cool air.
Tom's hand explored Himeno's thigh, rising slowly, leaving a burning trail of heat. Himeno squirmed slightly, her breath caught in her throat. When his fingers reached her most sensitive part, Himeno gasped, her back arching slightly. Tom leaned down, his lips close to Himeno's ear. "You like this, don't you?" he whispered, his voice like a tempting demonic whisper. "Surrender. Let me take over."
Himeno sighed, her head shaking faintly. This wasn't refusal, but her last struggle. She clutched the sheet tightly beneath her, her knuckles white. Tom felt the tremor in Himeno's body, knowing exactly how he could break through that defense.
He kissed Himeno's neck, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin, making Himeno gasp loudly. His hand continued its work, fingers moving in and out with an accelerating rhythm, causing her wetness to overflow, streaming between her thighs. The scent of Himeno's body, a mix of expensive perfume, tobacco, and newly awakened desire, filled Tom's senses, making him dizzy. Himeno whined, her body beginning to twitch.
Tom then positioned himself between Himeno's trembling thighs. The coolness of his skin briefly made Himeno flinch, but then Tom's warmth permeated, creating a strange, intoxicating contrast. Without further warning, Tom thrust himself inside. His hard, veined penis plunged deep into Himeno's wet and tight opening. Himeno let out a small cry, her voice muffled by the pillow. It was a cry of surprise, fleeting pain, and quickly replaced by an overwhelming sensation of fullness. Her breasts bounced with every thrust, their reddened peaks hardening and rubbing against Tom's chest.
His rhythm started slowly, deliberately, each thrust a question, each of Himeno's breaths an answer. Himeno's eyes were squeezed shut, thin tears escaping from the corners of her eyes, not from pain, but from intense emotional release. Tom watched her, observing every contraction of Himeno's facial muscles, every arch of her back. He was a conductor, and Himeno was his orchestra.
His rhythm accelerated, deeper, more brutal. Each hard impact of Tom's penis resonated deep within Himeno, emptying her mind and leaving only pure sensation. Sweat began to slick their foreheads, their muscles tensing and relaxing in a dizzying cycle. Tom gripped Himeno's hips tightly, his fingers pressing into her skin, leaving red marks that would soon appear. The sounds of gasps and moans filled the room, mingling with the friction of skin and the increasingly frantic thud of their bodies. "Ah... ah... yes... fuck me!" Himeno groaned, her voice hoarse and desperate, completely surrendering to the wave of sensation.
Amidst that chaotic intimacy, Himeno surrendered. Not with despair, but with a strange sense of relief, that shook her soul to its core. She no longer tried to fight, no longer tried to lead. She simply existed, beneath Tom, accepting everything. For the first time, she didn't have to be strong, didn't have to be in control. She could let herself be swept away by the absolute power before her. She let Tom take over completely, and in that surrender, she found a momentary freedom from all the burdens and fears she had always carried.
Himeno arched her back, her body stiffening, her hands gripping Tom's shoulders with nails that scratched. A scream of orgasm exploded from her throat, long and uncontrolled, a burst followed by a copious gush of semen from her now-flooded vagina. Tom felt Himeno's body tremble violently beneath him, her muscles twitching as the release washed over her. He held himself still for a moment, savoring every beat of Himeno's pulse. Then, with one last powerful thrust, Tom released himself inside Himeno, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips, his lips slightly wet with Himeno's sweat.
For Tom, this was a satisfying victory. He enjoyed every reaction from Himeno, every expression, every sigh. He enjoyed the process of breaking the will of such a strong and complex woman. He was a collector, and tonight, he had added a truly unique "experience" to his collection.
When it was all over, Himeno fell asleep almost instantly, emotionally and physically drained. She slept dreamlessly for the first time in a very long time, her breathing regular and deep.
Tom, of course, didn't sleep. He sat on the edge of the bed, observing Himeno with a cold, analytical gaze. He thought about Himeno's power, her contract with the Ghost Devil. He could have tried to "copy" that ability. But the System told him it was a contract-based power, demanding sacrifice, an eye, or other body parts.
"Paying for a power? Inefficient," Tom thought with disdain, his lips curling in distaste. "I get my power by being the victor, not by bargaining." He decided not to take it.
He rose, silently putting his clothes back on, every movement precise and unshakeable. He looked around the messy apartment. Before leaving, a strange last idea occurred to him. He snapped his fingers, and a beautiful, fresh bouquet of blue roses appeared on the nightstand, flowers completely out of season, which he had teleported from a private garden on the other side of the world. A surreal touch amidst the chaos, a trace of deliberate oddity.
Then, silently, Tom Jacker teleported away, vanishing from the apartment as if he had never been there.
The next morning, Himeno woke up alone. Her head felt heavy, but for the first time, her heart felt a little lighter. She felt a faint ache between her legs, a physical reminder of what had transpired. She saw the impossible bouquet of blue roses on her table, their petals shimmering in the morning light. She didn't know if the previous night was a dream or reality. But she knew one thing: she had danced on the edge of an abyss with something inhuman, something alien and powerful, and somehow, she had survived. And the memory of that anomaly's touch and domination would forever be etched in her soul, an indelible mark.