Yes he does

The urge consumed me. My carefully constructed walls of resistance crumbled. I lunged forward, my mouth crashing onto his, a ****, hungry kiss that tasted of fear and friendship and something else, something darker, something born of this insidious curse. Liam stiffened for a moment, surprised by my sudden aggression, then, hesitantly, he began to kiss me back. His hands came up, settling on my waist, pulling me closer. The feel of his body against mine, even through our clothes, was electric. My new, alien anatomy sang with a chorus of illicit sensation.

We stumbled towards my bed, a tangle of limbs and ****, confused desire. Clothes were shed with frantic, clumsy haste. My pajama top, his t-shirt, my bottoms, his jeans. Skin against skin. Male against... almost-female. He laid me back against the pillows, his body covering mine, his eyes searching mine, still wide with a mixture of shock and a dawning, **** arousal. “Ethan...” he breathed, his voice rough.

“Just... do it, Liam,” I whispered, my own voice trembling. “Please. Before I lose my mind.”

He hesitated for a moment longer, then lowered his head, his lips finding mine again, softer this time, more tentative. His hands began to explore my body, tracing the new, subtle curves, the unfamiliar smoothness of my skin. When his fingers brushed against my flat chest, then drifted lower, towards the shocking, undeniable reality between my legs, he flinched almost imperceptibly. But he didn’t stop. He positioned himself, his erection pressing against my thigh, hot and hard. I closed my eyes, bracing myself, a terrifying cocktail of fear, shame, and a sickening, undeniable anticipation churning within me.

Then, he entered me.

The sensation was... shocking. Alien. A stretching, tearing fullness that made me cry out, a sound that was half pain, half... something else. Something my cursed body registered as pleasure. He moved slowly at first, tentatively, his breath harsh against my ear. I wrapped my legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him deeper, the urge, the curse, overriding everything else. He began to move faster, finding a rhythm, his initial hesitation giving way to a more primal urgency. My body responded on autopilot, arching against him, meeting his thrusts, my hips bucking with a need that felt both deeply ingrained and utterly foreign. Moans spilled from my lips, soft at first, then louder, more ****, sounds I didn’t recognize as my own.

It was... happening. I was having sex. As... this. With my best friend. And a terrifying, shameful part of me, the part infected by this insidious curse, was undeniably, overwhelmingly, enjoying it. When it was over, when we both lay panting, slick with sweat, the silence in the room was deafening. Liam rolled off me, his face pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and something akin to guilt. He didn’t look at me. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my body aching, my mind numb. The urge had receded, leaving behind a cold, hollow emptiness. And a new, dawning horror.

Because I could already feel it. The change. A subtle tingling in my chest. A new, deeper ache in my hips. The curse was real. And I had just fed it.