Mars Time: 11:12, February 18, 2295

  B1, near Entrance #3, Red Rabbit Warren, Karma Moor

  The bamboo leaf crinkled like old paper in Jabari's hands. Steam curled up from the omelette inside—layered egg flecked with green onion, smelling of savory broth and something he couldn't quite place. His stomach answered with a growl that echoed off the tunnel walls.

  First bite hit different. Fluffy. Sweet-savory. The kind of good that made protein packs taste like cardboard in comparison.

  "Shango's hammer," he said around a mouthful. "This is actually incredible."

  Fuuka watched him eat. Just... watched. Sitting there in that purple kimono with her Spirit Lantern casting violet shadows across her face, those almond-shaped eyes tracking every chew. She had this presence—calm on the surface, something coiled underneath. And yeah, he'd noticed. The way the silk clung to her curves. That scent, cherry blossom and something warmer, that seemed to drift from her skin. The adrenaline from the Sigrun fight was fading, but what replaced it felt sharper. More honest.

  She'd saved his ass back there. That kind of thing made an impression.

  "Appreciate this," he said, wiping his mouth. "And the whole not-letting-me-die thing—"

  "Ara, we can discuss payment later." She tilted her head, black hair sliding like water. "For now? Eat. Before something with too many teeth finds us."

  Three more bites and the omelette was gone. Energy hit his system almost immediately—his Watch confirmed it with a soft ping.

  Better. He tested his ribs where Sigrun's axe had gotten friendly. Still tender, but that salve had done work. Fuuka rose in one smooth motion, kimono whispering against stone. Her hand disappeared into her sleeve and emerged with a small thermos.

  "Here. Something to wash it down with."

  He took a swig without thinking. The liquid was cold, sweet-tangy—like mango had a fight with lime and spice showed up to mediate. It chased the dryness from his throat and left something warm in its wake.

  "Damn. What is that?"

  "Family recipe." Her smile was small, private. "From Kyoto. It helps with... clarity."

  The warmth in his chest spread, pleasant and buzzing, like the first pull of Moon Ale. He shook it off. Probably just the food settling. "So what's the play? Sigrun's got a head start on that Zephyrium. We splitting the bounty or what?"

  Fuuka's gaze drifted toward the tunnel where Sigrun had vanished, then back. "Perhaps. But first—somewhere safer. These tunnels have ears." She paused. "And teeth."

  Her Spirit Lantern bobbed ahead, violet glow leading them deeper. Jabari followed, Sankofa at his hip, Oya over his shoulder. The crossbow's weight felt good. Solid. Real.

  He tried not to stare at the sway of her hips. Failed. That drink must've been stronger than advertised—his thoughts kept sliding sideways, wondering what that kimono was hiding. Focus, man. Fifty grand. Dad's debt. The therapy bot he needs.

  The side room they found looked forgotten—rusted door, dusty crates, pallets stacked like someone's half-assed attempt at furniture. Fuuka pushed the door open with surprising strength for her build. Inside: blessed quiet. No skittering Radi-Mons. No bloodthirsty bounty hunters.

  Just them.

  "Here," she said, closing the door. Her lantern dimmed to a gentle pulse. The shadows it cast made everything feel smaller. More intimate. "We can rest. Plan our next move."

  Jabari leaned against a crate, arms crossed. "That bounty. Fifty thousand. I need it—family situation. You?"

  She stepped closer. That scent wrapped around him again, jasmine with something earthier beneath. "Motives are personal, ne?" Her voice dropped. "But yes. The reward is... very tempting."

  Her finger traced along his arm where the salve had dried. The touch sent electricity straight through him, landing somewhere south of professional.

  "You fought well against her." Closer now. When had she gotten so close? "Strong. Fast. I admire that."

  He met her eyes. "Yeah? Your Creeper nearly made me piss myself. That scary enough?"

  Her laugh was soft, dangerous. Her hand moved to his chest. "Scary? Or exciting?"

  Before he could answer, she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Ne, Jabari-kun, we've both had a long morning. Why not... lift our spirits? Just us. Here."

  The words hit him like a bolt from Oya. His heart picked up, and yeah, the attraction he'd felt earlier flared hot. She was beautiful—those full lips, the curve of her neck—and the way she looked at him, like she wanted him bad. Surely?

  The Zephyrium could wait five minutes, right? Or ten. This dungeon wasn't going anywhere.

  "You sure?" he asked, his voice rougher than he meant. But his hands were already on her waist, pulling her closer. Her body felt warm through the silk, soft in all the right places.

  "Mm. Very." Fuuka's fingers worked at his jacket zipper, sliding it down slow, like she was unwrapping a present. The cool tunnel air hit his skin as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, her nails grazing his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. He could feel the heat building already, that drink making everything feel a little more intense. Jabari shrugged out of the jacket, letting it drop to the dusty floor, then reached for her kimono sash.

  His fingers fumbled a bit at first—nerves or was there aphrodisiac added to the foods she'd given him, who knew.

  But the knot came undone easy. The purple silk parted slow, revealing smooth, pale skin in the lantern's violet light. No underwear—practical for women on the move, or planned for something like this?

  Didn't matter. She was gorgeous, small curves and all confidence with her slender body: moderate sized breasts with dark nipples hardening in the chill air, the dip of her stomach leading down to a neat trim of black hair. Her floral tattoos—or were they part of the kimono design? No, they were on her skin, patterns of cherry blossoms winding up her sides, like secrets inked.

  "Runes for casting more demanding spells." Fuuka explained as she squeezed her own breasts and shrugged the kimono off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms to pool at her elbows. She stepped closer, pressing against him, her hands tugging at his shirt now. "But the only spell I need right now is you, ne?" she murmured, voice like velvet.

  "Yeah…" Jabari lifted his arms, letting her pull the shirt over his head. His dark skin contrasted with hers, his athletic build—packs honed from years of traveling and fighting—feeling solid under her touch.

  She ran her hands over his chest, fingers lingering on the faint scars from old Radi-Mon scraps, then down to his abs. He sucked in a breath when she reached his belt, unbuckling it. His pants came next, shoved down along with his boxers, freeing him. He was already hard, so it made him ache.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Now both naked except for her kimono hanging loose like a cape, they stood there for a beat, just looking. Fuuka's body was lithe but strong—slender legs, hips that flared just enough to grab onto, and those eyes. Jabari pulled her in for a kiss, deep and hungry. She tasted like that drink, sweet mango with a spicy kick, something uniquely her. Her hands roamed his back, nails digging just enough to make him groan.

  He backed her against the crate stack, but before he could lift her, she shifted, pushing him back a step. "Not yet," she whispered.

  "Oh?" Jabari lifted a brow.

  Fuuka dropped to her knees on the kimono she'd let fall to the floor, her eyes locking on his as her hands wrapped around his erect manhood—firm grip, stroking slow from base to tip, thumb circling the head with just enough pressure to make his knees weaken…

  Oh.

  Oh, Anansi and Shango, this ought to be good.

  His ex had never liked putting him in her mouth—fair enough, he’d never pushed it. But she’d insisted on the reverse, and that one-sided treatment had been the first crack in the foundation.

  Fuuka leaned in, her breath hot against him before her tongue followed—flat and wet, licking up the underside in one long, teasing stroke, then swirling around the tip like she was savoring his length. Jabari's hand found her hair, gripping lightly as she worked him over, tongue flicking and tracing veins, making him throb.

  "Ekwensu—" A low curse slipped out, his hips twitching forward on instinct.

  She smiled up at him then, a mischievous look, before taking him into her mouth—warm, wet, enveloping him inch by inch. Her lips stretched around him, cheeks hollowing as she sucked gently at first, then deeper, bobbing slow while her hand pumped what her mouth couldn't reach.

  The rhythm built, her tongue pressing, swirling on the upstroke. Her eyes locked on his as her orifice massaged his erection. She was warm. Wet. Skilled. Her tongue did things that made his vision blur, hands gripping his thighs for leverage.

  Jabari's head fell back, breaths coming short, the sight of her down there—that short hair shifting, tickling his thighs, those full burgundy lips working his penis—pushed him closer. Every suck and twist electric.

  "Fuuka...oh, Fuuka!—" He groaned, fingers tightening in her hair.

  She hummed around him, the vibration sending him over—hard, spilling into her mouth with a shuddering release that left him trembling. He ignored the Nucleus Watch ping:

  [Masculine Aether lost via internal ejaculation: 4.04 mL]

  She took it all, swallowing smooth, her hand milking him through the aftershocks until he was spent.

  Fuuka pulled back slow, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, that satisfied smile returning as she stood. "Your juice tastes sweeter than my boyfriend's back on Shashan. Lots of salt in your diet, ne?"

  "Shashan," Jabari blurted out. "That's where you're from?"

  "Not exactly. But it's the moon I've spent most of my life on," she replied.

  "Aww!" He caught his breath, still buzzing. "I thought you were single."

  "Well..." She paused, her accent thickening with mischief. "I don't have a boyfriend in this system yet."

  He chuckled. "Open to polygamy and all that?"

  "I'm sure Amir is getting his needs sated with Tanha while I'm gone." Fuuka licked her fingers.

  "Huh. Who are those two?" He asked.

  "But enough about me..." She wasn't done, now pulling him down onto the pallet with her, rolling so she was on top—cowgirl, like she wanted control now. She straddled him, guiding him inside her with a slow sink that made him groan.

  Tight, hot, sticky inside. She started moving, hips rolling in a rhythm that had him seeing stars. Jabari's hands gripped her waist, then slid up to her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples as she rode him.

  "Jabari-kun... you're so big..." she gasped, her legs trembling.

  The pallet creaked under them, but he didn't care. Sweat slicked their skin, the air thick with their breathing and the slap of bodies.

  She leaned down, kissing him messy, her midnight hair tickling his ebony face. Faster now, her moans getting louder, nails on his chest.

  Jabari thrust up to meet her, the aphrodisiac pushing him to the edge.

  It felt real. Good. Better than good—like they fit, like the shape of their sexual organs were made for each other, so tight and so fine. His mind flashed to the bounty, the debt, but it faded quick under the good feel. Faster now, her hips meeting his, nails on his back. Sweat slicked their skin, the air thick with their breathing.

  Fuuka's eyes locked on his, dark and burning, as she clenched around him.

  "Cum for me," she whispered. "Cum all you want—"

  He did, hard, spilling into her with a groan that echoed off the walls. Pleasure crashed through him, leaving him trembling, buried deep.

  [Masculine Aether lost via internal ejaculation: 2.55 mL]

  Fuuka followed seconds later, grinding down as she came again, collapsing onto his chest.

  For a moment—just breathing. Just existing.

  Then movement.

  Not from her. From behind her.

  Something slithered. Wet. Wrong.

  The post-climax haze cleared just enough for him to see it: a Poison Creeper, emerging not from her kimono sleeve, but from... lower. From between her cheeks, pushing out slow and deliberate from her tight, puckered hole.

  The creature's slick, segmented body glistened with her inner juices, uncoiling inch by throbbing inch like a living tentacle birthed from her depths. Its skin pulsed with faint veins, dripping venom from needle-sharp fangs as it stretched toward his neck, the air filling with a musky, forbidden scent that mixed her arousal with something primal and invasive.

  What the—

  Instinct took over. He shoved back, rolled off the pallet, hand scrambling for Oya. The crossbow came up smooth—bolt already loaded—aimed square at Fuuka's head.

  "Don't." The word came out flat. Cold. His heart hammered against his ribs.

  The Creeper froze mid-strike, inches from where his neck had been, its body still half-buried in her, twitching with restrained hunger.

  Fuuka sat up slowly. Naked. Unashamed. The Creeper had emerged from... her ass? They nested there, coiled deep inside her most private space? The thought made his stomach twist even as the afterglow still lingered in his veins, a sick thrill mixing with the revulsion—how it must feel for her, that writhing fullness stretching her from within, turning her body into a living hive.

  "Ara," she said, voice calm as still water. "You're quicker than I expected."

  "What the hell, Fuuka?" He kept Oya steady, finger on the trigger. "You save me. Feed me. We screw. Then this? Why?"

  Her smile held something almost like regret. "The bounty, Jabari-kun. Fifty thousand. I need all of it. No competitors."

  The Creeper retracted slowly, its slick length sliding back into her backside with a wet, sucking sound, disappearing inch by glistening inch into that forbidden warmth like it belonged there. She didn't even flinch as it vanished completely, her hole clenching shut behind it, leaving only a faint sheen of her fluids and its venom trailing down her inner thighs.

  He stared, pieces clicking into place. "You could've killed me after Sigrun. When I was down. Why wait? Why..." He gestured at the rumpled pallet, their scattered clothes. "Why this?"

  Her eyes softened. Just slightly. "Because you're cute. Strong. Fun." She gestured between them. "Why waste a good opportunity? And..." She paused. "Perhaps I wanted to see if you'd fight back. If you were worth keeping alive."

  Jabari lowered Oya a fraction. Kept it ready. The betrayal stung—sharp and personal—but damn if he didn't understand. Fifty thousand. That was rent. Meals. Debt. Life.

  "So now what?" His voice came out tired. "We kill each other? Or dance around it some more?"

  "Or—" Fuuka stood, picking up her kimono, slipping it on like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just tried to murder him post-coitus. "We work together. Split the bounty. You get thirty, I take twenty. Or we negotiate."

  He laughed. Bitter. Real. "After that? You think I trust you?"

  "Trust is earned, ne?" She tied her sash. The Creepers vanished again. Wherever the hell they went. "But need? We both need this money. And together, we handle Sigrun. Or whoever else crawls out of these tunnels."

  Jabari thought it over. Logic pushing through the haze of betrayal and fading aphrodisiac. Alone, he got nothing. Dead, probably. With her... maybe.

  "Fine. Truce. Fifty-fifty split. And no more surprises, or I put a bolt in you. We clear, yeah?"

  "Crystal." Her smile returned, playful now. Almost fond. "Shall we, partner?"

  "Yeah. Partner." He dressed quickly, checking his gear. "Thank you for being so nice to me, huh?"

  "You're quite welcome." With a smirk, she stepped back, hands folded." Trust is earned, ne? But I think we are building something."

  "That what you Proximans call attempted murder?"

  "I prefer 'aggressive negotiation.'" She adjusted her kimono. "Besides, you passed. You're quick, decisive, and very much alive. Good qualities in a partner."

  He should've been angry. Instead, he matched her smile. "Partner. Fifty-fifty?"

  "Fifty-fifty. No more surprises." She gestured toward the tunnel. "Shall we?"

  "After you. I'm watching your six real close, though."

  Her smile widened. "I would expect nothing less."

  They stepped into the tunnel. The violet lantern bobbed ahead.

  The passage branched into three paths. Fuuka stopped, studying the walls.

  "Blood trail." She pointed left. Fresh crimson droplets leading deeper. "Recent."

  Jabari crouched. Arterial spray. Drag marks. "Sigrun?"

  "Or whoever tried to kill her."

  Metal scraped stone from the right passage. Movement. From the left, a woman's voice, faint and strained. J?turmál.

  Then silence. She had gone further in.

  Jabari's hand went to Oya. "Should we go after her? Or find another way?"

  "I'm fine with either." Fuuka's lantern flared violet. "Left toward the blood? Right toward the metal?"

  Two paths. Two choices.

  "Why can't there just be one that leads straight ahead to the Zephyrium, eh?" Jabari quipped as he stepped towards the left passage.

  And the feeling that whichever one they picked, someone or something would die.