Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy

Chapter 149 - 150 | The Post-Climax Debriefing

She sat back up and resumed her movement, faster now. The drain pulsed between us, creating that strange recursive pleasure where I could feel her feeling me feeling her. It was almost too much, especially with the stimulant still coursing through my system, heightening every sensation.

"I’m close," I warned, gripping her hips tightly.

"Not yet." She slowed down, denying me release. "I want to try something first."

She placed her palm directly over my heart, focusing intently. The red lines on her arm glowed brighter, and I felt heat spreading through my chest in a controlled wave.

"What are you—"

"Directing thermal energy into your Essentia pathways," she said, her voice clinical despite her flushed cheeks and heaving breasts. "Theoretically, it should enhance the drain’s conductivity."

Before I could question this improvised experiment, she did something with her ability that sent a pulse of heat directly into my core. The drain responded immediately, flaring wider than I thought possible. Her Essentia rushed into me like a tidal wave breaking through a dam.

"Fuck!" I arched off the table, nearly dislodging her. The sensation was overwhelming—pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, heat that seemed to flow through my veins instead of blood.

"Interesting," she breathed, watching my reaction with scientific fascination even as she continued moving on top of me. "Your eyes—the circles are spinning faster. And there’s a third ring forming."

I couldn’t respond. My entire focus had narrowed to the points where our bodies connected and the flood of her Essentia pouring into me. I could taste every layer of her now—the cinnamon and steel on the surface, the caramel and ash beneath, and something deeper still, something that tasted like ambition and loneliness and brilliance all at once.

"Can you feel that?" she asked, her voice strained as she fought to maintain her experimental composure even as her body chased pleasure. "I’m directing the heat to match the flow of your drain. Creating a resonance pattern."

She was. I could feel it—the way her heat pulsed in time with the drain, amplifying its pull. The connection between us had become something extraordinary, something I’d never experienced before. Not just a drain, but a true exchange, a circuit where energy flowed both ways.

"Laurana," I gasped, using her first name without thinking. "I can’t—"

"Then don’t." She leaned down, pressing her forehead against mine as she moved faster. "Let go, Rome."

I did. The orgasm hit me like a lightning strike, every muscle tensing at once as release crashed through me. The drain exploded open, pulling a massive surge of her Essentia into me even as I emptied myself inside her. I felt her come again too, her body clenching around me, her cry echoing in my ears.

For a moment that stretched into eternity, we were one circuit, one feedback loop of sensation and power. I could feel every cell in her body as clearly as my own, taste her thoughts like wine on my tongue, know her in a way that transcended physical intimacy.

Then, slowly, reality reasserted itself. The drain narrowed to its normal channel, then closed completely. The heat from her body gradually subsided to merely warm rather than scorching. Our breathing, which had synchronized during that peak moment, fell back into separate rhythms.

She collapsed on top of me, her forehead pressed against my shoulder, her scarlet hair spilling across my chest. I wrapped my arms around her automatically, feeling the slight tremors that still ran through her body.

"Well," she said after a long moment, her voice slightly muffled against my skin, "that was significantly more data than I anticipated collecting."

I laughed, the sound surprisingly genuine. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

She pushed herself up enough to meet my eyes, her expression a mix of scientific curiosity and lingering pleasure. "Your eyes—they’re still glowing. Fainter now, but there’s definitely a third ring that wasn’t there before."

I blinked, trying to focus. "That’s new."

"Mmm." She traced my cheekbone with one finger. The touch sent a faint echo of the connection through me. "I suspect our compatibility triggered an evolution in the ability."

"Or your little thermal experiment did something unexpected."

"That too." She didn’t sound particularly concerned about potentially altering my Essentia. If anything, she seemed pleased by the complication. "We’ll need to run more tests to determine which variable caused the change."

"More tests?" I raised an eyebrow at her, though I already knew what was coming.

Her smile was slow and satisfied. She looked like a cat that had gotten into the cream, the champagne, and the entire dairy farm. "Science requires thorough investigation and reproducible results, darling."

"And how many trials do you think we’ll need?"

"Oh, dozens at least." She stretched languidly beside me, and I watched the red lines on her skin dim to a steady pulse rather than the bright flare they’d been moments ago. "But perhaps we should take a short break before the next one. For control purposes."

"Of course." I ran my hand down her spine, feeling the slight ridge where the red lines traced her vertebrae. Her skin was still warm under my palm. "For science."

She hummed contentedly. Then she slid off me and the table in one smooth motion that probably should have looked awkward but didn’t. Completely naked, she walked to a cabinet on the far wall. Zero self-consciousness. Not even a flicker.

I watched her cross the room. Appreciated the view. Specimen was making sure I appreciated it in high definition.

"Drink?" She pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and two glasses from the cabinet. "Scotch. Single malt. Aged twenty years in sherry casks."

"You keep alcohol in your lab?" I asked, genuinely curious now.

"Ikeep alcohol everywhere I might need it." She poured two generous measures into each glass, the liquid catching the dim light. "And test subjects often require something to settle their nerves afterward."

"My nerves are perfectly settled."

"Then call it a palate cleanser." She handed me one of the glasses before taking a slow sip from her own, her eyes never leaving mine. "Something to cut through the taste of my Essentia still lingering in your mouth."

I accepted the drink, watching her over the rim as I brought it to my lips. The Scotch hit my tongue with a complex burst of flavor—smoky and rich, with hints of dried fruit and a lingering sweetness at the finish. Like her, I realized. The comparison wasn’t lost on me.

"So," I said, setting the glass down on the counter beside me. "What exactly did we just establish about Drain-types and their... compatibility factors?"

"Several significant data points." She leaned back against the counter, one hip cocked, completely at ease in her nakedness. The casual confidence in her posture was its own kind of power play. "First, that physical pleasure doesn’t just enhance the drain’s conductivity—it multiplies it exponentially. Second, that compatible Essentia signatures can create a bidirectional flow rather than simple one-way depletion. And third—" She paused, those ruby eyes locking onto mine with renewed intensity. "That you’re even more interesting than I initially suspected when I pulled you into this lab."

"High praise from a four-star hero."

"Former four-star." She took another measured sip of Scotch, savoring it. "I retired from active field work two years ago."

"Why?" The question came out before I could stop it. Genuine curiosity.

"Boredom, primarily." One pale shoulder lifted in an elegant shrug. "Most villains are tediously predictable once you’ve fought enough of them. Same tactics. Same overconfidence. Same inevitable outcomes. Students, on the other hand—" Her gaze traveled down my body with deliberate slowness before returning to my face. "Students occasionally surprise me in ways that make this position worthwhile."

I set my own glass down and closed the distance between us in three strides. "Is that what I am to you? A surprise?"

"You’re an anomaly." She didn’t retreat or tense as I approached, just watched with those calculating eyes that had probably dissected countless threats on the battlefield. "A statistical impossibility walking around in a perfectly optimized body. A Drain-type who shouldn’t exist according to current classification standards, with abilities you shouldn’t be able to combine, and a healing factor I’ve never seen documented in any medical literature."

I positioned myself on either side of her, hands flat against the cool countertop, effectively trapping her between my arms and the marble surface. The space between us compressed to nothing. "And that interests you professionally, or personally?"

"Both." She angled her head to one side, those wine-red eyes conducting what felt like a vivisection in real time. Her expression remained maddeningly composed. "Though I admit the line has become somewhat blurred in the last hour."

"Just somewhat?"

Her laugh came out low and real, completely different from the controlled amusement she’d displayed earlier. It changed her whole face, softened something in those sharp aristocratic features that had been locked down tight since I’d walked through her door. "Significantly blurred, then. Drastically so, if you require the complete truth. Does that satisfy your ego?"

"Not yet." I shifted forward until my mouth hovered just beside her ear, close enough that she could feel the warmth of my breath against her skin. The faint scent of her perfume mixed with the lingering Scotch on both our lips. "But I have some ideas about how we might get there."