Chapter 4: Another shot
The immense power thrummed through Kira’s veins, denser and more solid than ever before, a comforting hum resonating deep within her bones. She looked down at Chris, his face still nestled between her thighs, glistening with her wetness, his expression dazed, almost reverent, as he shyly murmured, "Wow. Thanks," licking his lips slowly.
A warm wave of gratitude washed over her, surprising in its intensity. He’d given her exactly what she needed – pleasure, control, and this incredible, anchoring strength – without demanding a single thing. The sharp memory of Tom’s grasping hands and entitled fury dissolved in the soft light of Maya’s bedroom. Chris deserved something. Not because she owed him, but because she wanted to give it. She reached down, her large, powerful hand surprisingly gentle as she traced the curve of his flushed cheek, slick with her come. "You were perfect," she murmured, her voice husky, thick with satisfaction. "Lie down next to me."
He scrambled to obey, clumsy with lingering arousal and shyness, settling onto his side facing away from her on the rumpled silk sheets. Kira shifted, her powerful body moving with newfound grace, pressing herself against his back, her arm sliding around his waist. She could feel the rapid thud of his heart against her palm, the heat radiating from his skin. Her other hand drifted lower, fingers tracing the waistband of his jeans, feeling the hard ridge straining against the denim. She popped the button, eased down the zipper, the rasp loud in the quiet room thick with the scent of sex and jasmine. He gasped softly as her hand slipped inside, past the soft cotton of his briefs, finding his cock already slick at the tip, hot and rigid against her palm.
"Just relax," she breathed against the nape of his neck, her lips brushing his skin. Her fingers closed around him, firm but not crushing, her thumb swirling over the swollen head, smearing the pre-come. He whimpered, his hips pushing instinctively into her grip. She felt the dense power within her, a comforting, humming anchor, as she began to stroke him slowly, deliberately. Her other hand slid lower, cupping his balls gently, rolling the soft weight in her palm, applying just enough pressure to make him groan, low and needy. "That’s it," she encouraged, her own breath catching slightly as she felt him pulse in her hand. "Feels good?"
"So fucking good," he choked out, his voice ragged. "Your hand… god, Kira…"
She tightened her grip fractionally, speeding her strokes, her thumb pressing insistently against the sensitive ridge beneath his cockhead. Her fingers massaged his balls, rhythmic and firm. She focused on the feel of him – the velvet-over-steel hardness, the slickness, the way his entire body tensed and trembled against hers. His breathing became shallow gasps, his hips bucking erratically against her hand. "Gonna come," he gasped, a desperate warning. "Oh fuck, Kira…"
"Come for me," she commanded softly, her lips against his ear. Her hand worked him faster, tighter, her fingers expertly coaxing his release. She felt the tension coil impossibly tight in his body, a split-second of pure suspension.
Then he cried out, a raw, shuddering sound, as his cock jerked violently in her fist. Thick ropes of hot come pulsed out, splattering onto the silk sheets beneath them, onto her powerful forearm. She kept stroking him firmly through it, milking every last drop, feeling the frantic pulses subside into weak twitches.
And that’s when she felt it. A tremor. A sudden, sickening drain.
The solid hum of power deep within her bones faltered. It didn’t vanish instantly, like after the alley. It seeped away, like water draining from a cracked vessel. The comforting density in her muscles lightened. The sense of immense, unshakeable strength… wavered. She felt lighter, suddenly… fragile. Vulnerable. The feeling slammed into her with the force of a physical blow, colder than the air on her sweat-dampened skin. Panic, sharp and primal, clawed its way up her throat. No. Not again. Not now.
She snatched her hand back from his softening cock as if burned, sticky with his release. The abrupt movement jolted Chris, still gasping and trembling from his own climax. He turned his head, confusion clouding his dazed, blissful expression. "Kira? What—?"
"Get out," she rasped, the words harsh, choked with terror. She scrambled backwards off the bed, her movements suddenly clumsy without the anchoring power, landing hard on her feet. The room felt too big, too exposed. She grabbed her discarded sweater, clutching it to her chest like armor. "Now, Chris. You need to leave. Right now."
He stared at her, hurt and bewilderment replacing the afterglow on his face. "But… why? Did I do something—?"
"Just GO!" The command ripped from her, edged with a desperation that bordered on hysteria. She couldn’t explain. Couldn’t bear the vulnerability, the terrifying lightness where immense power had been moments before. She needed him gone. Needed to be alone with this terrifying emptiness. Needed to understand why her strength vanished when he came. Her eyes, wide with panic, fixed on the door. "Please. Go."
The apartment door clicked shut behind Chris just as Maya turned the corner, her keys jangling. She froze, taking in his flushed, bewildered face, his hurried steps echoing down the hallway. "Chris?" Maya called out, confusion knitting her brow, but he was already gone, vanishing around the stairwell corner without a backward glance.
Maya shoved her own door open, the scent of sex and jasmine hitting her instantly, mixed with Kira’s sharp panic. She found Kira standing rigidly in the middle of the bedroom, clutching her oversized sweater like a shield, her face pale, eyes wide and terrified, staring at the sticky mess on the silk sheets and her own trembling hand. "What the hell happened?" Maya demanded, striding in, her gaze darting from the rumpled bed to Kira’s stricken face. "He looked like he saw a ghost!"
Kira’s breath hitched, a ragged sob escaping. "It happened again," she choked out, her voice trembling violently. "The power… it was so strong… stronger than ever… after he… after he made me come." She gestured weakly towards the bed, her cheeks burning with humiliation and fear. "I felt… invincible. Solid. Like steel." She swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in her throat. "Then… I… I touched him. I jerked him off." Her gaze dropped to her sticky fingers. "He came… hard… all over my hand… and…" Her voice cracked completely, tears spilling over. "It just… drained away. Like someone pulled the plug. Gone. All that strength… vanished." She shuddered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. "I panicked. I told him to get out. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand feeling so… empty… weak… right after…"
Maya stared, her sharp mind processing the raw terror in Kira’s eyes, the sticky evidence on the sheets, the panicked expulsion of Chris. Pieces clicked into place with brutal clarity. "Holy shit," Maya breathed, her eyes widening in realization. "Kira… think about it. You get powered up from your orgasm…" She stopped directly in front of Kira, her gaze intense. "And you lose it… drain it… when he comes. When you make him climax." The implication hung heavy in the scented air. "Your power feeds on your pleasure… but dies with his."
Kira blinked, the terrifying logic of it sinking in, replacing blind panic with a cold, dawning horror. "Oh god," she whispered, her legs feeling weak. She sank onto the edge of the bed, avoiding the wet spot. "Poor Chris." The image of his hurt, bewildered face as she screamed at him to leave flooded back, sharp and painful. "He didn't do anything wrong, Maya. He was… perfect. Gentle. Eager." She buried her face in her hands, guilt twisting her insides. "He just wanted to please me… and I treated him like… like garbage." She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but resolute. "I have to call him. Tomorrow. Apologize." A flicker of her newfound determination surfaced beneath the guilt. "I need to understand this… this curse… and he deserves to know it wasn't his fault."