Ash rinsed the last plate and set it down with a soft clink.
Behind him, Celeste leaned lazily against the counter, arms folded, her gaze intense—like she was already imagining their next kiss. There was a glint of mischief in her eyes, a quiet promise written across her smirk.
Ash turned, drying his hands, only to freeze when he saw her expression.
"Wh-What?" he asked, heart skipping.
Without answering, Celeste stepped forward and kissed him—quick, teasing—then pulled back.
"I'm feeling very horny right now," she said softly, like it was a confession.
Ash's cheeks flushed instantly.
"H-Horny…?"
Celeste didn't give him time to process. She leaned in and kissed him again—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her lips parted his like a secret passed between them, and her body pressed into his like it belonged there.
Ash groaned softly, arms wrapping instinctively around her waist.
"I really am horny, Ash," she whispered against his lips, stealing his breath.
"I… I noticed," he murmured, dazed.
Her hands moved—slipping beneath the hem of his shirt, running along the warm lines of his stomach, feeling the way he twitched under her touch.
Ash flushed harder.
"C-Cel…"
She trailed a hand down his chest, featherlight, her eyes locked on his the whole time.
"Still nervous?"
"Very."
"Want me to stop?"
"…No."
That was all she needed.
Celeste kissed him again—this time hungry, possessive. She bit his lower lip gently, drawing a low moan from him that made her smirk against his mouth.
Ash clung to her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. When her lips traveled to his jaw, his neck, his shoulder—kissing, sucking gently—he nearly collapsed.
His fingers tangled in her shirt, tugging her closer.
"Cel…"
She paused, looking up at him.
"Bedroom?" she asked, voice low.
He nodded quickly, eyes blown wide.
They stumbled toward the room, bumping into walls and each other, laughing breathlessly between kisses.
Once inside, she pushed him down onto the bed. He sat there, dazed, watching her pull off her shirt with a sultry smirk.
Ash felt like his brain short-circuited.
She only climbed into his lap, kissed him senseless, and whispered:
"Where's the condom, Ash?" she asked with a smirk.
Ash turned scarlet.
"I-I'll… get it."
He stood, fumbling slightly as he walked to his cabinet. With shaky hands, he pulled out a fresh, unopened box and turned around.
Celeste raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? A whole box?" she teased, laughing. "Planning to use all of that in one night, Mr. Modesty?"
Ash froze, realizing too late how it looked.
"N-No! I wasn't—I mean, I just grabbed—"
"Mmhm," she said, clearly not buying it. "Give it here."
She took the box from him and opened it, still giggling.
Then, with playful authority, she looked him over and said:
"Alright, Ash. Strip."
Ash nearly tripped over his own feet.
.
.
.
.
They are both naked.
Ash lay on the bed, completely bare beneath the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Celeste was straddling him gently, her bare skin brushing his as she leaned down, trailing soft kisses across his chest.
She leaned down, pressing slow kisses along his chest, her lips brushing over sensitive skin.
"Ah—Cel…" he whispered, already breathless.
She didn't speak. Her lips moved slowly, purposefully, pressing against his skin just above his heart. Then lower—along his ribs, his stomach—her tongue brushing lightly over the dips and lines of his abdomen. It sent shivers through him, making him tense and gasp.
When she reached his lower abdomen, Ash's hand instinctively moved to her shoulder, a quiet, nervous barrier.
"W-Wait… Celeste… what are you… doing…?"
Celeste looked up at him, her expression calm but amused, her voice low and playful.
"You'll see."
Before he could say anything more, she lowered her head, giving Ash a mischievous look, then stuck out her tongue and gave him one long, exaggerated lick—like a kid teasingly tasting an ice cream cone just to mess with him. She sucked his length and played with his balls.
Ash covered his face with both hands, groaning softly, overwhelmed.
"C-Cel… ha… I-I don't think I can handle this…"
Her movements were slow, deliberate, and affectionate, her gaze never leaving his face as she watched every little expression he made.
"Aah… ngh—Cel…"
"Mmn—Cel—!"
He gripped the sheets, barely able to keep himself still.
"You're… really n-not holding back, are you?"
Celeste smirked.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Ghh—Cel… I'm gonna—!"
And He came.
Celeste straddled him with flushed cheeks, breathing unevenly as she whispered,
"I'm at my limit."
Ash blinked, his heart pounding like thunder in his chest.
"Huh—?"
Without waiting, Celeste reached over to the bedside table, grabbed the small silver wrapper, and tore the wrapper with her teeth—still keeping her eyes on him.
Ash's face turned scarlet.
But Celeste froze for a second, caught off guard as Ash gently pushed her back onto the bed. His hands were shaking slightly, but his eyes held a quiet determination.
"W-What?" she asked, breathless.
Ash looked down at her, cheeks flushed but gaze unwavering.
"I'll… take the lead," he said, voice soft but sure.
Celeste blinked in surprise, then gave him a teasing smirk.
"Okay then, Mr. Modesty." She handed him the small silver wrapper she'd just torn open, her fingers brushing his.
His ears turned red, but he nodded, taking it gently from her. He turned his back for just a second—quiet, careful.
There was a subtle motion, his hands fumbling a little, and he exhaled as he adjusted it properly.
Celeste tilted her head, amused.
"You've done this before?"
Ash glanced at her over his shoulder, flustered.
"N-No. I just… read about it."
She laughed softly.
"You're so polite even now."
He gave her a look—half embarrassed, half grateful—and once he was done, he turned back to her, a little more composed.
Ash took a deep breath as he moved slowly, carefully—treating her like she was made of glass. Celeste could see how nervous he was, and that made her smile softly, touched by how much he cared.
He hovered over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair back, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth and eyes full of worry.
"If anything hurts," he whispered, "tell me. I'll stop right away."
Celeste reached up and cupped his face.
"Even if it does… don't stop," she said softly, eyes honest. "I want you."
Ash's breath caught.
"Cel…"
As he began to move slowly, carefully, her hands gripped the sheets, pausing when he felt her tense beneath him.
"Cel…" he whispered, panic in his voice. "Does it hurt?"
She nodded once, biting her lip—but her eyes didn't waver.
"A little," she admitted, voice strained but honest. "But it's okay."
He searched her eyes for any sign of doubt, but all he saw was trust.
"You're… kind of bigger than I expected," she whispered, cheeks flushing.
Ash's face turned redder than ever.
"S-Sorry—"
She shook her head quickly. "Don't apologize. I want this. Just… give me a second."
"I'll go slow," he promised.
She nodded again, squeezing his hand as he continued, inch by careful inch. The discomfort was real—but so was the closeness, the warmth in Ash's eyes, the gentle way he held her like she might break.
Celeste exhaled shakily and whispered,
"I'm okay. Just… keep holding me."
Ash leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.
"Always."
___________