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Chapter 29 by Kristobal Kristobal

Is it time?

No

Emily ran her fingers lightly up his chest one last time, then leaned her forehead against his.

“We’re not in any hurry,” she whispered. “We’ve got as long as you want.”

Eli exhaled—shaky, but slower than before. Like the panic had ebbed, leaving something steadier behind. Something willing.

She smiled, then gently took his hand and rose, pulling him with her.

“Come on,” she murmured. “Let’s go somewhere softer.”

He followed her without question.

The bedroom was small—student-housing-small—but clean. Lived-in, not messy. The sheets on the bed were rumpled, but fresh. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in just enough light to see each other without shame.

Emily turned to him at the bedside and tugged him gently forward. “Lie down.”

He obeyed, stretching out onto his back, still watching her like he didn’t want to miss a second.

“I’ll be right there,” she said, lifting one leg slightly. “Just need to take these off—”

“No!”

The word came out fast. Loud.

She blinked, looking up.

Eli’s eyes were huge.

And then he turned crimson.

“I—I mean—” he stammered, voice cracking slightly, “you just—you look really good in them.”

His hands twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to hide his face or hold his breath.

Emily froze for a beat, then smiled.

Wide.

Slow.

“Oh,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Oh Eli…”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, warm and indulgent. She reached out and brushed his hair back gently, then crawled over him on all fours, the garter straps shifting with every move.

“You’ve got a thing for stockings now, don’t you?”

He made a helpless sound—half laugh, half groan—and turned even redder.

Emily kissed the corner of his mouth. “God, that’s cute.”

And then she slid in beside him, draping her body along his, one leg slipping over his thigh so he could feel the silk against his skin.

“I feel so powerful knowing that you'll think of me when you see a pair of stockings,” she whispered, her smile playful.

He couldn’t speak.

Didn’t have to.

Because when her hand found his again and their fingers laced together, it wasn’t about innocence lost or mistakes made anymore.

It was about this.

And the way she looked at him now—stockings still on, heart open, heat between them humming quietly in the sheets—it was everything he didn’t know he’d needed.

Now?

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