Hello everyone, this is a continuation of a harem romance story. Check it out if you'd like. Things are getting juicy for Jack!
Apologies for the delay in the chapters! I had some stuff going on that would bore you! I'll try to adhere to a chapter a month from now on, as I work full time and am also writing a non-smutty novel!
"Would you get the door?" Sagra had insisted that she be the one to carry his things to her place, and she had her hands full with his essentials and some expensive tech from his apartment. Her insistence that he stay with her was met with argument from the angels and his parents. In the end, the angels had things to do, and his parents recognized that he would be safer with the Nephilim.
"Sure." Jack set down the suitcase and grocery bags and unlocked the door with the key that Sagra provided. Turning the knob and pushing, the door did not give.
"You gotta put your shoulder into it," she said, embarrassed. Sagra's neighborhood had a bit of a reputation for being a bit...battered. The building was old, and in mild disrepair, but once they entered her place it was...not at all what he expected. The wooden floorboards groaned beneath her density as she laid her apartment bare to him. Everything from the chairs to the rugs was...fluffy. All her furniture was soft, which made the dichotomy with the far wall all the more jarring. Long pages of handwritten, framed poetry joined beautiful landscape paintings to decorate her walls. Where one might put an entertainment center sat a crude mannequin adored with light, strappy armor, reminiscent of the gladiators of old. Behind the armored display, a sword hung on the wall, its blade set through a lumpy weapon Jack didn't quite recognize. It looked like a ring that went around all four of your fingers, like brass knuckles, but with a larger surface area.
"Wow," he said.
"Wow?"
"Yeah! Your taste is...not what I expected."
She blushed furiously, her tanned skin turning rosy. "I will not apologize for good taste," she managed, smirking.
The groceries and suitcase forgotten, he approached the wall. "What's with the armor?"
"It's...uh, it's mine, actually." He gave her a blank stare, and she realized that he expected more information. "It's...uh, it's a rite of passage...at the Enclave. When you become an adult, your parents pay to get you fitted with armor, the finest money can buy. You have weapons forged based on your personal preference."
"And yours was a sword and a..."
"Cestus." She mimed a haymaker with casual perfect form. "For punching."
"Wow, that's intense, and super cool." She looked taken aback by his statement, so he pressed her. "Oh, come on! You have to know that swords and stuff are cool!"
She blushed. "They are pretty cool..."
"Can I hold it?"
She laughed at him. "Let's get you settled first, then we can talk about my messed-up childhood."
And they did. For hours, Sagra regaled him with stories from her upbringing. From the time her parents made her fight her sister with a knife to her long training sessions with a combat instructor. She had been trained in not just sword fighting, but archery and hand-to-hand combat as well. They were taught the Judeo-Christian bible, and that they were indeed the Nephilim of legend. Everyone in the Enclave secretly knew that it was bullshit, but no one ever said anything. Their physical superiority to the rest of humanity provided them with a sense of camaraderie and purpose that created a tight-knit community, one that rarely needed trade or transport from the outside world. The truth was, while the Nephilim were physically superior to humans in every way, they fell intellectually short, especially when it came to innovation. They were a traditional people who seemed to be stuck in a past that they never truly lived. Sagra seemed to recognize this and became visibly more upset the longer she talked about the Enclave.
"It really sounds like you wanted out..." Jack said, his hand over hers.
"I needed out. It wasn't unheard of for us to leave and seek our fortunes when we came of age. But when I told my dad I wanted to be an artist, he... overreacted. We got into a huge fight and, long story short, I left home and never looked back..."
"But...?" He pressed her.
She leaned on him, resting her cheek on the top of his head. "But they're my family. I miss them sometimes." Her words vibrated through his head.
Jack intertwined their fingers and sighed. The weight of the last few days settled on them both, and they each melted a bit into Sagra's couch. He didn't say anything. He simply ran his thumb across the back of her hand.
"Can we put my things away in the morning? Ack!"
Sagra lazily tipped over, pinning Jackson to the couch beneath her. She exaggerated a snore, and they shared a laugh. He was well and truly pinned. She turned into his neck, her breath sending goosebumps over his skin. Her weight on him was pleasant, but heavy; he couldn't extricate himself even if he wanted to. He ran his hands along her muscular shoulders, and she sighed in contentment. She giggled as he struggled to adjust his position beneath her, but he eventually straightened his legs, and they both lay together on her massive couch.
"Are your...wings okay?" His new appendages were splayed at odd angles, but he wasn't uncomfortable. He nodded and ran a free hand through her thick curly hair. She ran a gentle finger along the top of his wings. "Can you feel this?"
Nodding, he squeezed the mighty woman on top of him. She peppered him with gentle kisses as the stress of the insane day bled away.
"Let's worry about things tomorrow..." she whispered.
They fell asleep together, shifting around throughout the night into a more comfortable position.
.....
Jack found himself floating. At first, his eyes captured no light, and he feared that he had gone blind. There was no sound. Minutes passed, and he slowly began to regain his sight. He was in a deep red void, floating above nothing, towards nothing. Every direction saw more empty space, and Jack knew that if he remained in this place for long he would go mad.
There was a firm tap on his shoulder, and Jack spun to see a beautiful blonde woman with her eyes closed. One of her hands grabbed his shoulder, the other covering his eyes. She ran two fingers down over his eyelids, then covered his eyes again. He nodded in understanding, and they blindly began to float downwards. His toes touched solid ground, and a force deposited them gently on the ground. He felt strange grass between his fingers, before his other hand was grabbed by the strange woman. The back of his hand met her lips, which began to move erratically, as though she were speaking. Several moments passed before he heard her voice in his mind.
