Sampling

He only noticed the laboratory after Chevreuse had gone cross-eyed.

Her belly sat faintly rounded where he had packed her, womb taking the order Navia had spoken into the room and holding it like evidence. The captain’s gaze would not quite line up. Aether eased out of her, a thick spill chasing him, and that was when the smell of solvents and glassware cut through the sex.

Emilie had turned the dining table into half a workshop.

Vials in a neat rank. A small burner. Droppers, labels already written in a hand too clean for a bungalow. A notebook open to a page that said, without embarrassment, volatile fraction / subject: Traveler. She looked up from a stopper as if he had walked into her studio at a scheduled appointment.

“Don’t mind me,”
she said. Then, because he was staring:
“I do mind you. I would like a sample.”

Aether wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. Chevreuse made a wrecked little sound and did not get up. Navia was still stroking her hair like a woman congratulating a successful purchase.

“A sample of what.”

“You.”
Emilie capped a vial, set it down, and finally gave him her full attention.
“There is a scent under all of this. Not cologne. Not sweat. Something the women in this room keep answering to before you touch them. I want to know if it can be isolated. If it can be bottled.”
A faint, professional smile.
“A perfume that makes a woman want to be owned by a specific cock would sell for millions of mora. I would be a fool not to test the hypothesis while the source is in front of me.”

She held out a small square of wrapped something.

Aether took it because she put it in his hand. He turned it over. Thin. Slippery. Utterly foreign.

“…What is this.”

Emilie blinked once, the way a perfumer blinked at a client who had never heard of bergamot.

“A condom. For collection, not protection. I need the ejaculate contained or I will be scraping it out of a bodyguard, which is less hygienic and less precise.”
She watched his face change and added, milder,
“You have never used one.”

“Never needed one.”
Raw had been the only method since he had woken in this version of Teyvat. The idea of putting something between him and a cunt felt like being asked to fuck with gloves on.

“I am not asking you to deny me the act,”
Emilie said.
“I am asking you to finish in the reservoir so I can take it home. You may refuse the rubber. You may not refuse the curiosity. I will get the sample either way, and the table is already set.”

He did not refuse.

He also did not know how to put the thing on. Emilie saw that immediately, sighed through her nose like a woman who had just added a step to the protocol, and came around the table. She tore the packet with her teeth, rolled the condom down his slick length with two practiced fingers, and smoothed it to the base until the empty tip sat waiting.

“There. Now you may be as generous as you like. Try not to tear it. I only brought three.”

Then she hopped onto the edge of the nearest clear stretch of table — vials carefully out of kick range — and spread her legs with an energy that did not match the lab coat composure. No long seduction. No Navia flourish. Just a perfumer offering her pussy because it was the most efficient vessel she had on site.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQnVA9)
(artist: miyuka)

“Whenever you are ready,”
she said, already a little breathless, already watching the way the rubber sat on him like it was another instrument.
“I want everything you can put in it.”

The condom made her silent.

Not from composure — from the way he used her. Aether held her thighs and drove into the muted, wrong heat until Emilie’s mouth locked into a soundless O, glasses slipping, the professional line of her gone slack. He was doing what she had asked. He was filling the reservoir. It just felt like fucking through a wall.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQnfpX)
(artist: miyuka)

Dull. Smoothed-out. The little catches and textures that usually told him where a woman lived were blurred under latex, and he kept missing the spots he could have found blind in anyone else. When he buried himself the way he always did, the finish had nowhere honest to go. He came hard anyway, out of stubbornness and the three days of noise in his blood, and felt the condom swell at the tip instead of her womb taking him. A small, insulting balloon where a creampie belonged.

Emilie came twice getting that much out of him.

The first one surprised her into a bitten sound. The second left her shaking on the table edge, still trying to count pulses like they were drops in a formula. Then she pulled off him with both hands, careful of the seal, and held the thing up between them.

It was not a discreet sample. The reservoir sagged, heavy, a significant cloudy weight that made Navia whistle softly from the bed. Chevreuse, still cross-eyed and sloshing, did not comment.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQnz18)
(artist: miyuka)

“Good,”
Emilie panted.
“More than good. This will do.”

She did not wait for a second round.

She slid off the table, condom pinched closed like a prize, and scurried back to her vials with her dress still rucked around her waist and her cunt shining. Stoppers came out. A dropper. The notebook. She was already labeling before her breathing had settled, the perfumer vanishing into the work as if the man who had just been inside her had completed his function and could be filed.

Aether stood there with the rubber gone and the annoyance landing late.

Ignored. Used for a bottle. Left half-finished in the only way that mattered.

He came up behind her at the dining table, set his hand between her legs, and stretched her open with two fingers, then three, without asking. Emilie’s dropper stuttered. A soft, startled sound escaped her. She did not stop him. She also did not put the vial down.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQnniD)
(artist: miyuka)

“I am in the middle of—”

He lined up and drove into her raw.

The difference hit both of them at once. Heat, grip, the wet clutch that had been missing under latex. He bottomed out against her cervix on the first stroke and stayed there, grinding, giving her cunt the destination the condom had stolen. Emilie’s voice broke into a mess of sounds she would never have put in a report — high, punched, then low, then something like a laugh that could not decide if it was protest.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQnJXY)
(artist: miyuka)

“That’s—” Another thrust. “—not protocol—”

“You got your sample,” he said against her ear, and fucked her through the next sentence.

He pounded her the way the island had taught him to pound a woman who had decided he was an ingredient. Deep. Unkind in the specific way she had earned. Her cervix took the head of him over and over, the raw drag making her fingers smear ink across her own neat labels. A vial tipped and did not quite fall. Emilie braced on the table with one hand and tried, heroically, to keep pipetting with the other, and failed the moment he hooked her hip and changed the angle.

She made every kind of noise after that.

Sharp ones when he kissed her cervix. Wet, helpless ones when he pulled out just far enough to slam back in. A wrecked little moan when his fingers, still spreading her around his shaft, rubbed her clit like an afterthought. The lab coat composure died on the wood. Her dress stayed exactly as ruined as she had left it. Behind them Navia had sat up to watch with bright, scandalized delight, and Chevreuse had covered her face with one arm and was listening anyway.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQn4b4)
(artist: miyuka)

Emilie came again with a dropper still in her fist, forehead nearly on her notebook, and Aether did not pull out to be polite. He kept using the cunt he had been denied, raw and deep, until the perfume of the room was no longer solvents and hypothesis but the plain, honest smell of a woman getting fucked on her own experiment.

The condom had been a teaspoon.

What he left in Emilie was the rest of the bottle.

Aether ripped the last of her clothes off without caring where the seams went. The dress tore. Whatever she had been wearing under it followed. He fucked her through it, hard enough that the table legs stuttered and a vial finally did go over, rolling in a wet arc toward Navia’s discarded glove. Emilie tried, once, to save the notebook. Then he buried another load in her and the thought went wherever the professionalism had gone.

He did not stop at one. Or two.

Her cunt went tender and then past tender, swollen around him, overflowing every time he pulled back. He packed her until her lower belly sat heavy and the excess ran down over her ass in thick, wasted ropes. When even that hole could not hold what he was still offering he shifted, pressed the head of himself to the tighter ring he had already stretched with his fingers, and took her ass with the same blunt intent. Emilie made a thin sound and took it. He filled that too, until the overflow from one end met the overflow from the other and the perfumer was just a body leaking on her own dining-table laboratory.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQne7q)
(artist: miyuka)

By the time he pulled her onto her back she was not answering.

Unresponsive was not the same as unwilling. She was still breathing, still twitching when he dragged the head of his cock over her lips, still opening on instinct when he pushed into her mouth. Aether fucked her throat in slow, finishing strokes, using the last of the heat while her eyes sat half-lidded and distant. Cum spilled from both ends of her — a slow seep from her ruined, overflowing cunt and ass, a wet overflow at the corner of her mouth each time he bottomed out. She looked occupied in every available space. Used. Catalogued. The hypothesis could wait.

He eased out of her mouth. A last string connected them and broke.

(https://im.ge/i/QQQ4MAp)
(artist: miyuka)

Emilie stayed where she was, glasses crooked, dress in pieces, the most expensive experiment on the island dripping onto the floorboards.

Only then did Aether look at the last of the four.

Lynette had not moved from her patch of wall. Ears angled. Hands folded. The same unreadable face she had worn when Navia was still giving a presentation and Chevreuse still had a spine. She had watched the whole wreck the way she watched a stage trick — counting the steps, noting the misdirection, waiting to see if she was part of the act.

Aether’s attention landed on her like a hand.

Her ear flicked once.