Ash was shaking.
Not on the outside. Not visibly. But deep under his skin.
Celeste's hand had made its way back—slow, calculated, gliding over his thigh like it belonged there. And the moment her pinky ghosted over the seam of his sweatpants, Ash's breath hitched hard.
Rowan laughed beside him at something on-screen.
Ash didn't even know what they were watching anymore.
He was too busy staring blankly at the screen, sweating, dying, remembering.
Déjà vu.
The blanket. The couch. The glow of the screen. The way her hand moved like it knew exactly what it was doing.
Just like that night.
That night in his bed when Celeste played an 'educational' film, drank her wine, and touched him exactly like this. Like it meant nothing. Like it meant everything.
And now here she was again.
No wine.
No privacy.
Just Rowan breathing on the other side of him while she leaned in, lips brushing his ear.
"You're so warm," she whispered.
Ash clenched his jaw.
He couldn't react. He couldn't speak. Couldn't even breathe right.
Celeste's fingertips dipped lower.
"Don't," he whispered sharply under his breath.
"Don't what?" she whispered back, smiling. "Don't touch you? Don't make you think of that night?"
Ash turned slightly to look at her. Her eyes sparkled—half from the screen, half from wicked delight.
"You remember it too, don't you?" she asked, so soft, it sent a shiver up his spine.
Ash shut his eyes.
How could he forget?
The way her legs crossed beside him that night. The wine. Her teasing voice. Her hand on his thigh. That moment he'd nearly kissed her before bolting out of the room like a panicked virgin monk.
And now?
She was doing it again.
But this time, with Rowan two inches away.
This was worse. So much worse.
He reached under the blanket and caught her hand again, squeezing hard. But not enough to hurt—just enough to say: You're going to kill me.
Celeste just giggled under her breath.
"You haven't changed," she murmured against his shoulder. "Still trying so hard to behave."
Ash didn't look at her.
He couldn't.
But his grip stayed firm around her hand, holding it down—restraining her, and himself.
Rowan yawned.
"Man, I'm getting sleepy. Might just crash here."
Celeste smirked like the devil himself whispered a joke in her ear.
Ash swallowed.
He was in hell.
"Sleep," Celeste said sweetly to Rowan, eyes still on Ash. "We'll keep the volume low."
Rowan leaned his head back.
Ash gave her a look of pure panic.
She leaned in again, lips brushing his ear, breath warm.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "I won't break you."
Then she pulled her hand away—slowly, deliberately—dragging her fingers over his thigh on the way up, like a final kiss goodbye.
Ash let out a shaky breath.
But he didn't let go.
Because part of him wasn't sure…
If he wanted her to stop.
.
.
.
Thirty minutes later…
Rowan was out cold on the couch.
Celeste smirked.
Ash… looked like he needed a therapist.
She stood slowly from the couch, stretched a little too innocently, and leaned down to whisper near Ash's ear,
"So… kitchen?"
Ash blinked at her.
"N-Now?" he stammered.
She gave him a look. That quiet, dangerous look that meant: Move before I drag you myself.
Ash stood up immediately.
.
.
.
In the kitchen.
Ash barely had time to turn around before Celeste followed and pinned him against the edge of the counter.
He gasped.
"W-What are you—"
"You looked like you were about to explode back there," she whispered, lips dangerously close.
"I—I wasn't—"
"Oh please." Her palm flattened against his chest, and she leaned closer, eyes gleaming. "You were shaking."
Ash's cheeks went scarlet.
"I-I was just trying to—t-to be respectful."
"Mmhmm." She traced a finger up his neck. "And respectful little boys don't get hard when someone touches their thigh, right?"
"C-Celeste—!"
She giggled softly.
"So red. You're like a peach."
Ash backed up slightly, only to realize there was nowhere left to run—she had him cornered. Literally.
"You can't keep doing this," he whispered hoarsely. "Rowan's right there—"
"He's asleep," she murmured, brushing her nose against his. "And you're panicking like I'm about to eat you."
"I—I'm not—!"
"Oh, but you want me to."
Ash choked on air.
Celeste's hands curled gently into the fabric of his hoodie. Her tone dropped, silk-wrapped mischief.
"I remember how you looked that night," she whispered. "Watching that movie. Clutching your wine like it could save you."
Ash swallowed hard. His knees felt like glass.
"I remember where my hand was. How you didn't stop me."
His breath caught.
"I remember," she said, brushing her lips just beside his ear, "how your breath hitched every time I touched you."
Ash closed his eyes, his body trembling with restraint. "Y-You're evil."
She smiled. "And you're adorable."
Just as her fingers curled against the waistband of his pants—
*CRASH.
Rowan groaned on the couch again.
Ash flinched so hard he nearly yelped.
Celeste stepped back, smug and satisfied, licking her bottom lip.
"You're lucky," she said softly, "your prince has the timing of a demon."
Ash clutched the counter, breath shaky, face burning.
"Y-You're insane," he said.
She winked.
"And you're completely ruined."
.
.
.
The clock read 12:48 AM.
Rowan was fast asleep in his room, soft snoring coming through the cracked door. The apartment was quiet.
But Celeste?
Celeste was wide awake—curled under her blanket, phone glowing in her hand, biting her bottom lip.
She typed.
Celeste:
you up? 😇
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then reappeared.
Barely. Why. It's late.
She smirked.
And typed again.
Celeste:
i miss you. i miss your face. i miss your hoodie. i miss your abs.
also your sleepy voice.
i'll sneak there later hihi.
Ash's reply came slow.
Ash:
Celeste. Don't.
You're going to get us caught.
…did you seriously just say hihi
She grinned at the screen.
Celeste:
yes. now hush. sleep. pretend I'm not coming. or maybe dream that I am.
There was no reply after that.
Which meant—
Perfect.
She slid out of bed in silence, grabbed her secret copy of his key, and slipped out the door barefoot.
.
.
.
Ash's apartment was dimly lit with only the small hallway lamp near the entrance. The rest was quiet. Still.
Her fingers gripped the key.
Click.
Unlocked.
She stepped in.
Closed the door behind her.
Slipped off her shoes.
Padded across the room like a silent shadow.
She didn't head to the couch.
She went straight to his bedroom.
The door creaked softly as she opened it.
And there he was.
Ash—lying on his side, half-asleep, arm curled under his pillow, face peaceful.
His breathing was slow and quiet, one side of his hoodie riding up just slightly to expose a sliver of skin above his waistband.
Celeste stood there, staring for a second too long.
Oh, I'm going to ruin you.
She stepped forward slowly, quietly.
And then—
Pounced.
"WHAT—!!" Ash jolted up, completely startled, his eyes wide, hands flailing. "C-Celeste?! Wha—?!"
"Hi," she whispered.
Ash was blushing so hard, he looked like he'd been slapped in the face by the sun.
His hands were still wrapped around her wrists, but they weren't pushing her away—they were just holding on for dear life.
"Y-You—Celeste—! I—what are you even—!?" he stammered, eyes wide, voice cracking like a panicked teenager in a school play.
Celeste tilted her head, eyes glinting in the dark.
"You okay?"
"No! I—I mean yes! I mean—what is happening right now?" he sputtered, the tips of his ears practically glowing. "You—you literally climbed on me out of nowhere—!"
"You gave me a key," she said simply.
"F-For emergencies!"
"This is an emergency. I'm in desperate need of cuddles." Her voice dropped. "And maybe more."
Ash made a noise. A tiny, wounded whimper.
"Y-You can't just say that kind of stuff with your face this close," he whispered, blinking fast, trying so hard not to look at her lips. Or her bare shoulder. Or the curve of her waist currently pressed into him.
Celeste smirked.
"You're blushing."
"I-I'm not!"
"You are," she said, eyes dancing. "It's cute."
Ash groaned, hiding his face in his pillow for a second.
"I can't breathe. I swear you're doing this to test my heart rate."
"I am," she whispered, leaning down further. "And you're failing beautifully."
"Stop—saying—things like that!" he gasped, voice climbing an octave. "You can't just sneak in here like a demon and start—touching—and saying—and—"
Celeste brushed his hair from his face gently, thumb grazing his burning cheek.
Ash flinched. Then melted.
Just a little.
His eyes fluttered half-shut, breath shallow.
"You're not pushing me away," she whispered.
"I'm trying," he mumbled.
"No, you're not."
He groaned again, absolutely red, hands clinging to her wrists like they were the only thing anchoring him to Earth.
"I was literally asleep, Celeste."
"And now you're awake," she purred, nose brushing his. "You're welcome."
Ash let out a tiny, helpless laugh.
"I'm gonna die."
Celeste kissed his cheek—so soft, it almost made him cry.
"You're gonna fall in love harder."
Ash was still catching his breath, cheeks burning, hands weakly gripping her wrists as if that alone could stop whatever chaos she had planned.
But Celeste?
Celeste was just getting started.
She shifted her weight—slowly, deliberately—sliding her hips down until she was seated fully on top of him, legs tucked on either side of his waist. The pressure made Ash's entire body go stiff.
And then—
She rolled her hips. Just once.
A slow, gentle sway.
Right over that very specific place that had him gasping.
Ash let out a sound.
Not a word. Not a name. Just a sharp, helpless whimper in the back of his throat.
His eyes snapped wide open.
"C-Celeste—!" he croaked.
She blinked down at him, all fake innocence.
"Hmm?"
"You—you can't—!" He clutched the bedsheets now, looking like he was about to implode. "You just—don't do that!!"
"Oh? This?" She shifted again, slowly grinding her hips in a slow, teasing motion. "Feels like you liked it."
Ash arched slightly beneath her, a breath catching in his throat. His hands flew to her hips, not to stop her—but to survive her.
"You're evil," he hissed.
Celeste leaned down, face close to his.
"You gave me the key, Ash. You invited this."
"I gave you the key when I was sick and delirious!!"
She smiled, brushing her nose against his.
"Well, next time don't give a key to a woman who's obsessed with riding you like a—"
He slapped a hand over her mouth, face beet red.
"DO NOT FINISH THAT SENTENCE," he begged, voice cracking.
Celeste giggled under his palm.
Ash was barely breathing. His body was tense, his face burning, his voice weak.
"I—I swear," he whispered, "one more move like that and I'm going to—"
"To what?" she whispered, slipping his hand away.
He stared at her, eyes wide, chest rising and falling fast.
But he didn't answer.
He couldn't.
She leaned forward, hands planted on his chest, hips still rolling with devastating rhythm—and gave him that look.
Playful. Wicked.
"Watch this, Ash."
And then—
She moaned.
Loud.
"Ahhh… A-Ash… mmn… ngh—y-yeah…"
Long. Breathless. Soft but loud enough to echo.
Ash's soul left his body.
"Cel!!" he hissed, eyes wide with panic, trying to sit up.
She giggled, then bit her lip and moaned again—longer this time, dragging out his name like she was melting from the inside out.
"Ahhhh… Ash… oh my gods, yes—yes, right there…"
Ash bucked slightly beneath her, his entire body stiffening.
"C-Celeste, STOP—!" His face was beet red, hands now trembling as he tried to steady her hips. "Y-You're going to kill me! I'm begging you!"
She leaned down and kissed his jaw, then his flushed cheek, smirking against his skin.
"Then die beautifully," she whispered, her voice dripping with playful cruelty.
And again—another moan.
This one was almost filthy in how breathless it sounded.
"Aaahhh~ Ashhh… don't stop—please don't stop…"
He let out a soft, involuntary groan, low and muffled through clenched teeth.
His hips jerked up instinctively, and he gasped—caught off guard by his own reaction.
Celeste's eyes sparkled.
"Oh?" she purred. "Did you just—?"
"N-No!" he cut in immediately, voice cracking. "Shut up! That wasn't—I didn't mean to—!"
But she moved again.
And this time, Ash's breath hitched so hard he actually whimpered.
"C-Celeste, for the love of—please," he said, clearly on the edge. "You're… you're making me—!"
She bent down, their noses touching, her lips brushing his.
"You sound so sweet when you lose control," she whispered.
And then, in a slow, aching rhythm, she moaned one last time—longer than any before.
"Ahhh—Ash… Ash… mmmn—"
In one sudden, shaky movement, he pulled Celeste into a hug—tight, desperate, like it was the only way to survive her.
She blinked, surprised by how firmly he held her.
"C-Celeste… please," he whispered, his voice cracking with tension. "I'm seriously going to lose it."
His face was burning. His body trembling. And between them—undeniable proof of how much she'd affected him.
She felt it.
Pressed right against her.
Hard. Hot. Throbbing through the thin fabric of his shorts.
Her breath hitched—then a slow, sly smile spread across her lips.
Ash flinched as she gently pulled back, only far enough to look at him. His hands were still clinging to her hips, but he was too stunned to move.
"It's okay," she whispered.
He shook his head once, eyes squeezed shut.
"I'm—I'm sorry…"
"There's nothing to apologize for." Her voice dropped. "We're already lovers, Ash...This isn't wrong."
Before he could protest, her hand slid down—slowly, deliberately—and cupped him through his shorts.
Ash gasped, his entire body jolting.
"C-Cel—!"
"Shhh…" she cooed, leaning close, brushing her nose against his cheek. "Let me take care of it."
And she did.
Her hand slipped inside.
No hesitation. No shame. Just quiet confidence and affection.
Ash groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillow, eyes fluttering shut. His hands gripped the blanket, knuckles white.
Every breath he took came out shaky and shallow, his chest rising and falling with every slow movement of her hand.
"Cel…" he gasped, voice barely there.
"I know," she whispered, kissing his ear.
His body arched slightly. He was trying to hold back—but couldn't.
He let out a soft, broken moan—one he couldn't muffle no matter how hard he bit his lip—and his whole body tensed, then shuddered as he gave in.
Afterward, he collapsed against her chest, breathing hard, flushed from his ears to his throat, clinging to her like he might float away.
Celeste brushed her fingers through his hair, her touch soft and soothing now.
"You did so well," she whispered.
Ash could barely breathe.
"I think I died," he murmured.
Celeste giggled.
"If you did, you died in my arms. Like a legend."
___________