'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

Liam’s eyes were shut.

His breath was uneven, barely following the normal tempo.

His fingers curled faintly into the thin fabric of Mize’s silk pajamas, each thread feeling like a temptation, too delicate to grip, yet too soft to resist.

His brows twitched slightly, lashes trembling as if caught between impulse and restraint.

"I shouldn't... " He closed his eyes, his hands retreating.

"I shouldn't do this"

Liam was truly in a dilemma, fighting over the urge as best as he could.

"If I do this, I am no better than those men"

"I-if I do this... "

"...."

Then came the sigh.

A slow, quiet breath from deep within his chest, long and heavy, like something unresolved had finally slipped free.

His eyes opened, his eyes dilated strangely, inhumanly, more like a monster slit.

The sight in front of him slammed into his senses, Mize’s face, bare inches away.

That untouched beauty, glowing faintly in the dim light.

The curve of her cheek. The softness of her lips. Her expression peaceful, unguarded, like a fallen deity lost in slumber.

Ahhh... an unguarded beauty.

“I can’t stop,” Liam muttered, voice barely audible.

His words hung in the air like a confession.

“Forgive me for craving you too much…”

"I am a sinful monster"

There was a hint of mockery in his tone, at himself.

As if even he found his hunger pathetic. But his mouth didn’t hesitate anymore.

His grip shifted gently, hands curling tighter around the narrow slope of Mize’s waist.

And then he leaned in.

His lips didn’t touch first.

It was his tongue, slick and heated, that slipped into her parted mouth with a wet sound, almost obscene in the silence.

Squish…

Then his lips sealed over hers.

This wasn’t a kiss.

It was a devouring.

He wasn’t gentle.

He wasn’t even pretending to be.

Like a starved beast, Liam plunged into her mouth as though it were a banquet meant only for him.

His lips pressed deep, consuming, his jaw flexing slightly as his tongue slid further inside.

The room grew quiet, save for the wet sounds and noises slapping about.

Her lashes fluttered.

A faint shiver rolled across them, barely perceptible, her expression twitching, crumpling slightly as if on the verge of waking.

Liam panicked, his eyes widened.

With a subtle motion, his fingers sparked with a pulse of light.

A faint glow rippled down to her temple, a spell, gentle.

Her eyelids relaxed once again. The tension in her features softened.

He had forced her back into sleep.

And his mouth?

It deepened the assault.

Her lips were pliant beneath his, being tossed and twisted under his, and their salivas intertwined.

Her tongue offered no resistance. Her body lay still, perfectly still, soft and motionless like a porcelain doll.

And something about that made Liam’s blood rush violently.

This was dominance in its purest form no resistance, no awareness.

Just his control. His will. His desire.

He loved it.

He savored it.

'This is fucked up... But I can't control it... '

'I am a terrible man'

His tongue curled and danced inside her mouth, brushing across the slick roof, licking deep into every hidden corner.

Every time he pushed in further, her throat gave a faint reaction, a small, involuntary noise, soft as a breath, yet trembling enough to make him shudder.

He pulled tighter around her waist, shifting to press himself fully over her body.

Without realizing it, Liam had climbed over her, hands braced on either side of her head, knees straddling her slender thighs.

He hovered above, pinning her completely beneath him.

His breath funneled through his nose in slow, burning streams, heat fogging up between their faces.

His hips pressed downward, not forcefully, but enough to feel every contour of the warm body below.

And still, she didn’t wake.

Didn’t move.

Only the light quiver of her lashes and the occasional twitch of her tongue reminded him she was even alive.

His saliva poured greedily into her mouth.

In return, he sucked on hers like it was nectar.

Sweet.

It was addictively sweet.

Each slow stroke of his tongue drew more of her into his rhythm.

She didn’t respond, not consciously, but instinct made her tongue twitch and flinch, trying to react even in sleep.

And Liam?

He was relentless.

His lips sucked harder. His mouth moved in waves, deeper, stronger, lips pressed firm like a seal.

Shlurp!

Shlurp!

Shlurp!

The noises were obscene, filthy even and yet it was sweet.

It was obscene how his mouth practically fed on hers. He swallowed her saliva like it was his own.

His throat worked with every gulp.

Slurp.

Slurp.

Slurp.

The noise filled the room, shameless, wet, and loud.

And from her throat, another sound emerged.

A soft gulp, forced and low. Her throat tensed with each mouthful he pushed down, her body reacting without permission.

He knew it.

He felt every shift, every flinch.

And it thrilled him.

Her hands remained limp at her sides, her legs nestled between his knees, her expression still tranquil.

But her body told the truth, those small movements, the quivering breath, the reflexive tightening of her throat.

Liam’s spell lit once more at her temple, just as her brows began to crease.

His timing was surgical. She never had the chance to wake.

Or really?

Again, she stilled.

And Liam leaned in deeper, like her mouth was a well and he was trying to drown her in himself.

Again, and again, and again.

Over and over, he poured his saliva into her like she was his personal sink, his own, private container to fill however he pleased.

Slurp.

Gulp.

Slurp.

Every sound shot through him like lightning.

And through it all, his breath grew heavier, his grip tighter, the heat between their bodies spreading wider.

This scene stretched on for minutes.

Maybe longer.

Liam didn’t know. Didn’t care.

Even if it had lasted for hours, he wouldn’t have batted an eye.

The sweet, intoxicating taste of Mize’s saliva only pulled him deeper, down into a spiral of desire he didn’t want to escape from.

It was like a drug.

Addictive in the worst and best ways.

And Liam?

He took another hit.

The longer he kissed, the deeper he sank. It hit him all at once, the realization of just how far gone he was.

Eventually, though, he stopped.

His lips finally peeled away from Mize’s, wet and slow.

Thin strands of saliva stretched between their mouths, sticky, glistening in the low light, before breaking and fading into the space between them.

Their breaths tangled in the air, warm and shallow, as if still chasing each other.

Mize’s chest rose and fell in uneven waves. He was breathless, even in sleep.

His lips parted softly, gasping without sound. His fingers clenched tightly against the sheets, pulling the fabric until it wrinkled under his grip.

His legs curled in, twitching faintly, betraying a heat beneath the still surface.

Liam blinked.

Then he smiled.

He pushed himself up lazily, shifting his weight with a smooth roll of his hips as he slid to the edge of the bed.

The mattress dipped slightly under him. His bare feet touched the floor. Golden eyes glinted in the dimness as he turned to look back.

“That was good,” he murmured with a satisfied sigh, lips curving wider. “Very tasty.”

But, of course, Mize gave no reply.

Sleeping, after all.

Right?

Liam’s fingers tapped absently against his knee for a second before he glanced down at Mize again.

His smile didn’t fade, it deepened.

“Kissing done,” he said, voice dipping into something low and playful. “Now then… what should I do next?”

He leaned in slowly, deliberately.

His hand moved with mock thoughtfulness, lowering with a gentle grace toward Mize’s hip, fingers trailing the edge of the sheet before pausing, just above the crotch.

Barely hovering.

And then.

Mize flinched.

Subtle, but clear.

A tiny jerk. His eyes, though still shut, tightened in panic.

His entire face tensed like a child trying to play dead, desperately pretending not to exist.

Liam’s lips twitched into a smirk, eyes narrowing with amusement.

A soft chuckle escaped him, airy and helpless, like someone watching a secret unravel exactly as expected.

“No one can stop me,” he whispered, playfully dark. “She’s asleep, after all.”

His fingers dropped inch by inch, slow and teasing, creeping ever closer to the forbidden line.

Then.

Like a dam snapping.

“STOOOPPPP!!!”

Mize screamed.

Both hands shot up and clapped hard over his face, covering every inch of his angelic features.

His voice cracked high-pitched, echoing off the walls.

Liam paused, frozen mid-motion.

Then he laughed.

A genuine, deep laugh, rich with amusement and relief.

His eyes sparkled, molten gold flickering with mischief as he tilted his head.

“Good morning, Princess.”

Mhm…

If Mize could disappear, he would’ve.

His entire face was crimson, an angry, vivid flush that lit his skin like someone had swapped his head out for a ripe tomato.

And as if that wasn’t enough, a literal puff of steam seemed to rise from the top of his head, cartoonishly betraying the overload happening inside his brain.

His legs curled tightly into his stomach. He turned to the side, retreating into himself, trying to vanish beneath the weight of his shame.

Hands still clamped over his face, refusing to let even a sliver of skin show.

He whimpered, voice small and cracking. “Y-Yes… please leave the roooommm…”

The plea melted into a high-pitched whine, trailing off like a kicked puppy.

“Ohhh, how can I?” Liam gasped with mock horror, his tone practically dripping with fake concern.

He leaned in again, this time with a gentler touch.

One hand settled on Mize’s shoulder, thumb stroking slow circles into the fabric as he gave a playful nudge.

“Are you ill, my dear?” he asked sweetly, tilting his head with the kind of worry that would’ve convinced anyone, anyone who didn’t know better. “Come, face me… Let me take a look.”

His voice was perfect, smooth, warm, caring.

Not a hint of guilt.

Not a single crack in the performance.