Soft Demian

“Now it’s my time.”

Cecil couldn’t take her eyes off Demian. She spent time lying next to him. It was the first time she had observed him sleeping so closely.

One of Cecil’s hands didn’t leave Demian’s face. She savored the free time she had gained.

“Oh my. He’s so *soft*.”

To Cecil, Demian was a man stronger than anyone else. Yet, in his sleep, he was a boy of endless tenderness. It was almost pitiful to think how this fragile boy came to bear such scars. Then she remembered the saying that if a man looks pitiful, you’ll never escape him, and she let out a small laugh to herself.

Cecil’s face slowly drew closer to Demian’s, without her conscious will.

Then, realizing what she was doing unconsciously, she shook her head.

But when she looked at Demian again, desire surged within her.

*…I don’t need a fantasy.*

Cecil pressed her lips to Demian’s cheek. Even though she knew no one was watching, her heart pounded as if she were stealing something. For a while, she clutched her chest, trying to calm her racing heart...