Chapter 67 : First Date, First Night
New York, Queens – Alex's POV
The rest of the week passed in a blur of classes, coffee runs, and strategic planning, the rhythm of campus life punctuated by small but meaningful shifts in my world. I kept attending my lectures, my attention alternating between the professors' words and the endless calculations, connections, and contingency plans running through my mind. Nothing escaped the system—not even the little details of student interactions, the way groups formed and dissolved around me.
Darcy slowly integrated into the group. At first, she hovered on the edges, tentative, overwhelmed, as if her mind was perpetually two steps ahead of her body. But by midweek, she had started to settle, laughing at Gwen's jokes, rolling her eyes at MJ's teasing, and slowly carving her own space within the dynamics of the Mary Janes and me. By the end of the week, after enough conversations, teasing, and patient explanations, she had made her decision. She joined the harem. Not with grand declarations, but with that quiet, practical determination I had come to expect from her. Her agreement was like a lock clicking into place: deliberate, considered, and irrevocable.
The Void continued to expand, its influence now stretching roughly a kilometer in radius. The growth was seamless, imperceptible to anyone outside its boundary, yet I could feel the subtle shift in perception, the quiet control I held over the space around me. Even better, I had learned to keep it deactivated throughout the day without the fatigue it had once brought—allowing me to move through the world with normal emotional intensity, calm and collected, while the option to activate remained in reserve.
May remained a ghost in the periphery. Two weeks had passed without seeing her, and while the absence was noted, there was no sense of urgency. My focus was elsewhere, on the immediate threads I was weaving, the people who had chosen to orbit this network I was managing.
By midweek, the Valve email had been answered. The correspondence was precise, careful, and left no room for ambiguity. A meeting was scheduled for Monday. I spent hours preparing, planning every detail of the demonstration and assembling the data, equipment, and conceptual presentation that could make the difference. Travel arrangements were settled for Sunday; logistics accounted for down to the smallest variable.
Through it all, life continued to flow—coffee breaks, shared lectures, small banter with the Mary Janes—but underneath, a subtle tension had built, almost imperceptible. The Void had expanded, my strategies refined, and the network of relationships aligned seamlessly with the rhythm I orchestrated. Each moment of ordinary life became a vector toward the next, each interaction a data point feeding into the pattern I could now see clearly.
And yet… the calm felt wrong. Too smooth, too controlled. I couldn't shake the sense that the universe had paused only to draw a deep breath before some larger force stirred. After all, in this city, in this universe, nothing stayed quiet for long. Something—something significant—was coming. I could feel it at the edges of perception, a distant pull, a ripple in the normalcy that demanded attention. The calm was a luxury, and luxuries in my world never lasted.
By Friday, the week had drawn to a close—a slow exhale after days of planning, observing, and integrating. The meeting with Valve loomed, the harem settled, Darcy's place confirmed, and the Void stretched, ready, waiting. Everything was in motion, and yet, for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself a brief moment of stillness, letting the threads settle before the next week's momentum carried them all forward.
Saturday morning came quietly, unusually so for New York. I spent the early hours reviewing my notes for the Valve meeting, ensuring every contingency, every demonstration, every angle of approach was accounted for. But even with work occupying my hands, my mind drifted toward the evening ahead. Darcy. My thoughts traced the nervous energy she carried—the way it made her fidget, the little gestures she couldn't hide, the subtle shifts in posture when my attention rested on her. Tonight's date wasn't casual. It was formal, a first proper step into the rhythm of us, the harem dynamic crystallizing around her role as an official partner.
By mid‑afternoon, I left the apartment to meet her. The streets buzzed with Saturday life, but I remained in that rare bubble of calm control. I arrived first at the restaurant, scanning the dim interior as I settled at the table. Candlelight, soft jazz, the subtle clinking of glassware—it was perfect. Controlled. Intimate.
Darcy arrived a few minutes later, hesitating slightly at the entrance, shoulders tense in her familiar nervous posture. Her hair was pulled back loosely, a few strands falling forward, and the flush of excitement—or anxiety—tinted her cheeks. I stood, offering my hand, and she allowed herself a small, uncertain smile.
"Darcy," I said softly, voice low enough to be private, "you look… perfect."
Her fingers brushed mine as she took the seat I pulled out for her. She muttered something that sounded like a squeak, eyes darting briefly to mine, then away. I suppressed a smile. The mixture of her nerves and anticipation was almost tangible.
The conversation began light—classroom anecdotes, small frustrations from the week, experiments gone sideways. But as the appetizers arrived, I shifted the focus subtly. Questions about her interests, her curiosities, her own projects. I leaned slightly closer when she spoke, letting the quiet weight of my attention settle around her. Her gestures betrayed her flustered excitement: fingers twisting in her lap, tucking hair behind her ear, lips parting as she tried to find words.
At one point, I reached across the table, brushing her hand with mine when she laughed at an awkward story. She froze, blush deepening, and a small giggle escaped despite herself. I held her gaze a fraction longer than necessary, letting the warmth of proximity build the tension between us. Her breaths came faster, nervous energy mixing with something else, something electric.
Between courses, the conversation turned to more personal topics, teasing and probing enough to see her walls melt slowly. I could feel her pulse, rapid under the table, and I let a quiet, teasing comment linger in the air—watching her react, watching the mixture of panic, excitement, and curiosity play across her features. She fidgeted again, tugging at her sleeve, twisting in her seat, a subtle tremor in her voice when she replied.
By the time dessert arrived, our proximity had increased naturally. My arm brushed hers occasionally, light touches on the hand, near the shoulder. She laughed nervously, trying to focus on the sweet in front of her, but I could see the way she fought to maintain composure. The playful tension hung between us, electric and charged.
Finally, as the evening drew toward a close, I offered my arm to guide her from the table. She leaned slightly into me, hesitant yet trusting. The walk back into the quiet Manhattan streets felt like an extension of the date—a private corridor where words were few, but meaning and desire thick. I let my hand brush hers again, deliberately slow, watching her reaction, noting the slight shiver that passed through her.
Her breaths were uneven, subtle but telling, and I could feel the nervous energy coiling beneath the surface. She tried to keep the conversation light, joking about a clumsy moment earlier, but I could hear the tremor in her voice. The tension between us had grown throughout the evening, each small touch, each lingering glance building a quiet, unspoken anticipation.
As we walked toward her studio, my mind flicked briefly to the system, the internal display hovering at the edge of my perception.
[SYSTEM QUEST – ACTIVE]
Mission Title: Conquest Darcy Lewis
Description:
Darcy Lewis is a cheerful and eccentric young woman just waiting to delight you. You will have to conquer her and make her yours; to do this, you will have to mark her physically and mentally until she can no longer live without you.
Repeatable Objectives :
These objectives can be completed multiple times.
Each completion grants the listed rewards.
Mark her physically whit a creampie
Reward: Conquest Point
Mark her mentally by giving her a mind blowing orgasm
Reward: Conquest Point
Unique Objectives :
These objectives can only be completed once.
Rewards are granted a single time upon first completion.
Impregnate her because there is no greater physical mark of conquest
Reward: Ability Analytical Intuition
Make her fulfill her most taboo fantasy with you because there is no greater mental mark of conquest
Reward: A Gacha Pull
[Tip: The most taboo fantasy of the target is to faint from pleasure.]
The mission flashed faintly in the corner of my awareness. My steps slowed slightly, measured, as I considered the mission quietly.
When we reached the narrow street leading to her studio, the city's ambient noise seemed to fade, leaving only the two of us. I stopped, letting my arm remain lightly around hers, just enough to keep the moment intimate. Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and uncertain, cheeks flushed. That nervousness—the way it danced along the edge of her composure—made the pull between us undeniable.
"I… had a really good time tonight," she whispered, voice low, almost breathless. I could see her hands fiddling, twisting nervously in front of her, betraying her attempts to stay calm.
"Me too," I said, keeping my tone soft, careful, almost predatory in its subtle restraint. "And… I think this is only the beginning."
Her lips parted slightly, a small intake of breath. She didn't pull away, didn't step back. Instead, she tilted her head, uncertain but willing to let the space between us shrink. I let my other hand brush a strand of hair behind her ear, the contact feather-light, teasing, deliberate. Her reaction was immediate—a shiver, a flush, a visible tightening of her body.
Everything about her told me she wanted to explore this, to see how far the night could stretch, but she also needed guidance, reassurance. That was fine. I had all the time in the world to let her acclimate to the rhythm I set, the dynamic we were exploring. Tonight, the walk had been a prelude, a test of proximity and restraint. The next step… that required privacy, patience, and just enough space for tension to blossom.
I offered a faint, almost mischievous smile, letting my gaze linger on her lips, her eyes, the subtle quiver of anticipation in her posture. "Do you want to continue… somewhere quieter?" I asked, voice low, controlled, letting the question hang in the air like a spark.
Her answer came in a barely audible nod, but the shiver that ran through her and the way her eyes met mine said more than words ever could. This was the moment—the threshold—where anticipation became intention.
And as I guided her into her studio, familiar yet intimate, the city around us alive but distant, I knew the rest of the night would be about exploration, closeness, and testing limits. A step into intimacy that was as much physical as it was emotional—a moment I would orchestrate with care, patience, and just the right amount of tension to pull her completely into it.
New York, Lower East Side – Darcy's POV
The door clicked shut behind us, the sound echoing in the quiet of my studio apartment. The air, still thick with the night's humidity, felt charged, different. Alex's hand was still warm on the small of my back, a point of contact that sent little zings of electricity radiating through my entire nervous system. I could still taste the wine on my lips, could still hear the low rumble of his laughter from the restaurant. But that was then. This was now.
"Your mind is going a mile a minute, I can hear it from here," Alex murmured, his voice a soft, intimate thing in the dark. His fingers curled slightly, pulling me a fraction of an inch closer. My heart did a clumsy, enthusiastic flip-flop against my ribs.
"I'm not—I just—the lamp, I should probably turn on a lamp, or something, right? It's dark. Not that dark is bad! Dark is… fine. Good, even. Cozy." The words tumbled out, a jumbled mess of nerves and want.
He chuckled, a low, warm sound that seemed to vibrate through his chest and into mine. "It's perfect." His other hand came up, his fingertips gently tracing the line of my jaw, tilting my face up to his. In the faint light filtering through the blinds, his eyes were dark pools of intent. Oh god.
His kiss wasn't like the tentative ones we'd shared before. This was a claim. His mouth moved over mine with a confidence that made my knees feel dangerously weak. A soft, surprised sound escaped me, a muffled mmph against his lips. I sank into it, my hands coming up to clutch at the solid, familiar planes of his shoulders.
When he pulled back, my breath was coming in shallow little gasps. "Alex…"
"Shhh." He brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "I've wanted to unwrap you all night."
His fingers went to the buttons of my blouse. Each tiny pearl button slipping free was a small, significant event. The brush of his knuckles against the swell of my breast, the gradual exposure of my skin to the cool air—and his hot gaze—made my head spin. The blouse whispered to the floor. His eyes drank me in, lingering on the simple lace of my bra.
"So beautiful," he breathed, and the sincerity in his voice undid me more than any slick line ever could.
My own hands felt clumsy as I reached for his shirt, fumbling with the buttons. He let me work, a small, patient smile playing on his lips as I finally pushed the fabric over his shoulders. His chest was exactly as I'd imagined—toned, smooth, radiating a heat I desperately wanted to press myself against. My palms flat against his skin, I let myself explore, feeling the hard muscle of his pecs, the slight scratch of hair.
His hands went to my skirt, the zipper a loud rasp in the quiet room. It pooled at my feet, leaving me in just my bra and panties. I shuddered as his hands slid up my thighs, over my hips, settling on my waist. He leaned in, his mouth finding the frantic pulse at the base of my throat. Ahh… The sigh was torn from me as his lips and tongue worked a delicate path along my collarbone, his teeth grazing just enough to make my entire body clench with a need I barely understood.
He unhooked my bra with a practiced ease that should have bothered me but only thrilled me more. My breasts spilled into his waiting hands, and his groan was one of pure, unadulterated appreciation. "Fuck, Darcy. Perfect." He dipped his head, taking one taut nipple into his mouth.
The sensation was electric, a direct line to my core. Oh! Oh, god… My back arched, pressing myself harder against his mouth. "Yess… please…" His tongue lashed me, circled me, suckled deep. The wet, hot pull of his mouth was unraveling me thread by thread. He switched his attention to my other breast, giving it the same devastating worship, his free hand pinching and rolling the wet nipple he'd just abandoned.
He sank to his knees before me, his hands smoothing down my trembling stomach, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of my panties. He looked up at me, his gaze holding mine as he slowly, so slowly, drew them down my legs. I stepped out of them, completely bare and exposed to him. The cool air kissed my most intimate skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his stare.
He urged my legs apart just a little. I was trembling, every nerve ending screaming. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he leaned in. The first flat stroke of his tongue up my slit wrenched a broken cry from my throat. Ahhhnn!
"So sweet," he growled against me, the vibration of his voice sending shockwaves through my trembling legs, threatening to buckle under the sheer intensity. My mind was a whirlwind of disbelief and aching need. How could something feel this good? I had imagined what it might be like, but reality was beyond anything I could've conjured in my wildest fantasies. His tongue wasn't just tasting; it was exploring, mapping every inch of me as though I were some uncharted territory. And maybe I was—to him, to myself.
I gasped as his tongue found folds I hadn't even been aware existed, places that lit up like fireworks under his attention. Is this even real? My heart pounded so loudly I was sure he could hear it, each beat echoing the desperate rhythm of my arousal. Then, without warning, his lips closed around the tight, aching knot of nerves at my apex. Oh god. My hands flew to his hair, tangling in the soft strands, not knowing whether to pull him closer or push him away.
Splorch. Glrk. The obscene, wet sounds filled the room, amplifying my own shameless moans. I was drowning in sensation, every lick and suck sending jolts of pleasure so sharp they bordered on pain. I can't—this is too much—I need—! My thoughts fractured, shattering into incoherence as he worked me with a single-minded intensity that left me breathless.
"Alex… I—I can't…" I choked out, my voice breaking on a sob. But he didn't stop. If anything, he seemed to take my faltering words as encouragement, his tongue delving deeper, faster, until I was teetering on the edge of something vast and terrifying. This is it. This is what everyone talks about. The realization hit me like a lightning strike, but before I could fully grasp it, he pulled back slightly, leaving me hovering on the precipice, desperate and untethered.
His breath was hot against my throbbing core, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You're mine now, Darcy." And in that moment, I believed him—every word, every touch, every filthy sound between us.
"Right there! Alex, don't stop!" I was babbling, my fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to me. A pressure was building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter, a spring about to snap. My hips began to move of their own accord, grinding against his face, seeking more friction, more of his divine mouth. I was so close, teetering on a brilliant, shimmering edge. "I'm gonna… I'm gonna come…"
The orgasm hit me like a tidal wave, a stunning, blinding rush of pure sensation that melted my bones. My vision whited out. I cried out, a wordless, shuddering wail as my body convulsed against his mouth. He held me through it, gentling his strokes, drawing out every last delicious spasm until I was boneless and gasping.
He rose, catching me as I swayed, and swept me into his arms. I was too dazed to do anything but cling to his neck as he carried me the few steps to my bed, laying me down gently on the sheets. I was still floating, blissed out and pliant. I watched through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed his remaining clothes.
And then I saw it. Him. My breath caught in my throat. He was… huge. Thick and long and intimidating. A fresh, sharp thrill of anxiety mixed with the lingering haze of my orgasm. How…?
He saw the look on my face and stretched out beside me, kissing my shoulder. "Shhh. I'll go slow. I'll take care of you. Just relax for me, darling."
He kissed me again, deep and slow, and I could taste myself on his lips. The intimacy of it sent another jolt through my system. His hand slid down between my legs, his fingers slick and knowing, stroking me back to full arousal despite my recent climax. I was wet, so wet for him, my body opening like a flower.
He positioned himself over me, nudging at my entrance. The blunt, wide head of his cock pressed against me, a pressure so immense I couldn't imagine it fitting. I whimpered, a small, nervous sound.
"Look at me, Darcy," he commanded softly. I dragged my eyes up to his. He held my gaze, a silent promise in his dark eyes, and pushed.
There was a sharp, burning sting, a stretching feeling so intense it bordered on pain. I gasped, my nails digging into his arms. He paused, completely still, letting my body adjust to this new, overwhelming invasion. The initial sting faded, replaced by a deep, stretching fullness that was utterly alien. He was so deep, I felt him in my very core.
"Okay?" he breathed, his forehead damp with sweat.
I nodded, unable to form words. He began to move, a slow, gentle rocking motion. The friction was unbelievable. Every inch of his slow withdrawal was a sweet agony, every thrust back in a breathtaking fulfillment. The stretch was still there, a constant, delicious ache.
"You feel… incredible," he groaned, his rhythm starting to build. "So tight around my cock. Like you were made for me."
His pace increased, his thrusts becoming harder, more deliberate. The gentle fucking evolved into something more powerful, more primal. The bed began to creak in time with our movements. My moans became louder, more urgent, matching the slap of his skin against mine. Smack. Smack.
"Yes! Alex, fuck… right there!" Another orgasm was building, coiling deep in my belly, even more intense than the first. It was going to be huge, I could feel it. I was climbing, climbing, my back arching, my toes curling…
And then… nothing.
It vanished. The peak I was about to crest simply… flattened out. The pleasure didn't recede; it stayed, a maddening, humming buzz right at the brink, but the final, shattering release was locked away. A frustrated, confused sob escaped me. "Wha… why? I was so close…"
Alex just smiled, a dark, possessive glint in his eyes that sent a shiver racing down my spine. He drove into me harder, his pace turning brutal, punishing. His hips snapped against mine with a rhythm that was relentless, unyielding. "You come when I say you can come, darling," he growled, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for argument.
The pleasure surged again, an impossible wave even higher than the last, threatening to consume me whole. My body responded instinctively, arching off the bed, every muscle taut with tension. My fingers clawed at the sheets, desperate for something to anchor me as I teetered on the edge. "Please, Alex, please let me come! I need it! I need to come so bad!" I begged, my voice trembling with desperation.
But he didn't relent. Instead, he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "Not yet," he murmured, biting down on my earlobe with just enough pressure to make me cry out. The sharp sting mixed with the overwhelming pleasure, heightening my frustration to unbearable levels. My entire body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.
Then, he did something that sent me spiraling further into madness. His hand slid between us, his fingers finding the sensitive bud of my clit. He pressed down hard, circling it with ruthless precision. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through me that had me thrashing beneath him. "Oh god! Alex!" I screamed, my voice breaking as my hips bucked uncontrollably against his touch.
But still, he wouldn't let me tip over. The orgasm was there, so close I could taste it, yet it remained just out of reach, a tantalizing promise that he refused to fulfill. My body was coiled tight, every muscle clenched in anticipation. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I writhed, my breaths coming in shallow gasps. "I can't—I can't take it! Please!" I sobbed, my hands clutching at his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin.
"Patience, darling," he purred, his tone infuriatingly calm as he continued to drive into me with unrelenting force. His cock stretched me to the limit, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside me that made me see stars. But it wasn't enough. I needed more. I needed release.
My entire being was consumed by desperation, a raw, primal need that left me trembling and gasping. The world narrowed to the sensations he was forcing upon me—the pounding of his cock, the relentless pressure of his fingers, the heat of his breath against my skin. And still, I hung on the edge, teetering precariously, begging for the sweet relief that he cruelly denied me.
"You're doing so well," he whispered against my ear, his voice dripping with praise that only fueled my frustration. "Just a little longer."
I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All I could do was feel—the overwhelming pleasure, the intense tension, the maddening frustration. My body was no longer my own; it belonged to him, completely and utterly. And I was at his mercy.
Again, the sensation hit a wall just at the precipice. Denied. The frustration was a physical pain. Tears of desperation welled in my eyes. He owned my pleasure completely. He fucked me through two more of these maddening, denied peaks, each one leaving me more sensitized, more desperate, my entire world narrowing to the pounding of his body into mine and the agonizing, withheld climax.
I was a writhing, sobbing mess beneath him, babbling incoherent pleas. His own breathing was ragged, his muscles coiled tight. I could feel a different kind of tension building in him, a gathering storm.
"Now," he growled, his voice guttural. "Come for me now."
The moment he commanded me to come, it was as if a dam inside me shattered, releasing a torrent of pent-up ecstasy that had been held back for far too long. My body convulsed violently, every muscle taut and trembling as the orgasm ripped through me with a force I couldn't comprehend. Gahhhh! The sound tore from my throat, raw and primal, as my back arched off the bed, my hands clawing at the sheets for something, anything to ground me. My vision blurred, my thoughts dissolved into white noise, and all I could do was surrender to the overwhelming, animalistic waves of pleasure.
At the same time, Alex drove into me one final time, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural roar that vibrated through my very core. I felt his cock pulse inside me, and then it came—hot, thick, and endless. His release flooded me, a searing torrent that seemed to fill every inch of me. Splurt. Gush. Wave after wave of his cum poured into me, each surge triggering another fierce contraction of my own orgasm. My walls clenched around him almost involuntarily, milking him for every last drop, as if my body couldn't get enough.
The sensation was beyond anything I could have imagined—the heat, the fullness, the sheer intensity of it. It was primal, shameless, and utterly consuming. My body thrashed uncontrollably, my breath coming in ragged gasps, as the dual sensations of his release and my own climax merged into one blinding, obliterating moment of ecstasy. I was no longer in control; I was lost in the raw, unfiltered reality of what he was doing to me—what he was giving to me.
And then, as the waves began to subside, my body gave out. The dual overload was too much. The world fractured into blinding white light and a roaring in my ears. My last fragmented thought was a dizzying awareness of being utterly, completely filled, claimed, and sewn back together all at once. The pleasure was so absolute, so total, it short-circuited my mind. My body went limp, the tension draining away as a profound, heavy darkness swallowed me whole, pulling me down into a deep, sated, and unconscious sleep.