Work Text:
"..."
[Wake up, Player.]
Player groggily opened her eyes, looking up to see Batter's face close to hers. But the white expanse before her wasn't the sugar-snowing factory of Zone 3. In fact, before the blinding light, they had just defeated the third administrator: Enoch.
"...Batter, where are we?"
Player was clearly confused by her surroundings. She sat up and realized that the soft thing beneath them wasn't the corpses of the Zone 3 employees who hadn't completely disappeared, but... a double bed?
[A white room, and... there's a sign here.]
Batter surveyed the room's layout. First, he was certain this wasn't any space he'd seen before. Second...
[You seem to have a physical presence in this room, Player.] "Maybe it's just a bug? Don't worry about it for now. Anyway, you could see me at the sugar factory. Let's go see what the sign next to the door says."
Player didn't say anything more. She got out of bed, and Batter, being more agile, quickly reached the door from the other side of the bed.
[Hmm.]
"Uh..."
"A room where you can't leave without [censored]?!"
Player was shocked. What kind of situation is this? The probability of this happening in the game is extremely low, or maybe it's a bug? Regardless, why would this happen, so embarrassingly?
[...What does 'can't leave without [censored]' mean?"
Batter had never encountered this situation before, and the two boxes seemed to intentionally cover up the keywords, making it impossible to know. So he tried asking Player, but she shook her head and sighed, because she also seemed to have some vague idea of how to solve this problem. "This question is too personal!"
The moment the words left her lips, the air in the room seemed to freeze. Player instinctively took a half-step back, her back hitting the cold door panel, only then realizing she was truly physical—she could feel the door, smell the faint, sweet scent in the air, like melted icing sugar, completely different from the cloying sweetness of Zone 3.
Batter's gaze fell on her reddened earlobes. His hat brim was pulled low, obscuring the emotions in her eyes, but his brows were slightly furrowed. His tone remained steady, yet less cold and hard than before: "Personal? Does it require...something special?"
"How should I know!"
Player's voice rose slightly, then quickly fell back down.
"Haha...this weird place just popped up out of nowhere, who knows where things went wrong...maybe if we play Enoch again, we can get out of here?"
She made up excuses, but her gaze didn't dare fall on Batter. They'd fought side-by-side on the battlefield, never feeling this awkward, but now, in this pure white room, beside this double bed, even breathing felt precarious.
Batter didn't speak, but turned and sat down on the bed. The bed creaked slightly. He raised his hand, his fingertips lightly touching the sheet; the texture was incredibly soft, so different from his hands used to holding baseball bats. After a long while, he spoke, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hesitation: "You...would you like to sit for a while?"
Player hesitated for a few seconds, then walked over and sat down on the other side of the bed, a small distance away from him. The bed was wide, but this short distance felt like it was being held together by an invisible thread, making the sweet scent in the air even stronger.
“If we stay here, the ghosts outside will…” Player tried to break the silence, but Batter interrupted her before she could finish.
“No.”
His voice was soft, and he pointed to the halos following behind him.
“Alpha, Omega, Epsilon, they’re all still here, but they can’t come over for now.”
Another silence followed. Player turned her head to look out the window—everything outside was pure white, nothing at all. She suddenly remembered that since Area 2, Batter’s gaze towards her seemed to have changed. It was no longer that pure, mission-oriented look; occasionally, when she was distracted, he would steal a glance at her, and if he noticed, he would quickly look away.
Like now…
She felt his gaze on her profile, warm, with a slightly unfamiliar temperature. Player’s heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t help but turn her head, meeting his eyes. His eyes, not hidden by the brim of his hat, were a pale color, like melting snow, and her reflection was clearly visible within them.
“Batter…I…” She opened her mouth, unsure what to say.
Batter’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He slowly raised his hand, hesitated for a long time, and then gently touched her hair. His fingertips were slightly sweaty from the battle, but surprisingly hot.
[There seems to be some icing from the sugar factory on your hair…wait a moment.]
“Ah, oh.”
Player froze, afraid to move. His fingertips were light, like a feather brushing against her, with a cautious gentleness. This was completely different from the fierce swings he made, yet it made her feel that this was the true Batter, hidden beneath his mission-driven exterior.
[The words on that sign…] Batter’s voice was low, almost a whisper, [Could it be…]
He didn’t finish, but Player seemed to understand something. Her face instantly burned, and she abruptly turned her head away, unable to look at him. "Don't...don't guess!"
"...A kiss?"
His voice was as light as a feather, falling into the air and startling the sweet atmosphere of the room.
Player's face instantly burned, even her earlobes turned bright red. She shrank back abruptly, her back hitting the door with a soft thud.
"Uh, haha! Is that so..." Her voice trembled with panic, her gaze darting around, avoiding his eyes. "It must be something else...it's not...something childish!"
[Oh my god, Player, what are you saying?! What do you mean it's not this? If it's not this, then what is it...do you really want him to do this with me?!] Player's mind raced with these wild thoughts.
Batter didn't speak, just looked at her. His fingertips were still suspended in mid-air, the soft touch seemingly lingering where they had just touched her hair. His eyes, beneath the brim of his hat, were as shallow as a lake reflecting melted snow, mirroring her flustered state. There was no mockery, only a faint, earnest question.
“Is it childish?” he asked softly. “But besides this… I can’t think of anything else.”
He leaned forward, instantly closing the distance between them. Player could smell the faint scent of smoke on him, mingled with the sugary aroma in the room, becoming exceptionally clear. Her heart pounded as if it would explode; her hands, gripping the hem of her dress, were sweating, yet she couldn’t move her feet.
“We’re partners,” Batter added, a hint of barely perceptible stubbornness in his voice. “If this is the condition for getting out, then…”
He didn’t finish, but Player understood. She looked at his face, so close to hers, at her reflection in his eyes, and suddenly remembered all the little moments they'd shared—how he'd instinctively turn back to look for her after a fight; how he'd ask her "What's wrong?" when she was sulking and silent; how he'd whisper "Thanks" after she warned him to dodge an ambush.
Those subtle moments, deliberately ignored by her, now surged up like a tide, washing over her heart.
"Partners...don't have to do this, do they?" Her voice trailed off, growing weaker and weaker.
Batter's fingertips lightly touched her cheek, cool with a touch of sweat, yet burning hot, making her shiver. His movements were gentle, careful, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.
"But..."
He looked into her eyes, saying each word slowly and deliberately. "I want to try..."
A surge of emotions welled up, washing over them both, coating their inexplicable feelings with a warm, sugary sweetness. Player's heart pounded in her chest. Looking into his earnest eyes, she suddenly felt that even if this was a trap, it wasn't so terrible after all.
For Player, wasn't this a wonderful thing? It was impossible for her not to have feelings for Batter throughout their journey. She had witnessed almost every "purification" battle Batter had fought; his image was etched into every corner of her mind. Every time, she wanted to hold him, wanted him to see her, wanted him to...
She pursed her lips, slowly raising her hand to gently touch the hem of his shirt. "...Just a touch," her voice barely audible, "Don't push your luck."
His breath hitched, as if he hadn't expected her to agree. His fingertips lingered on her cheek, the cool sweat mingling with the warmth of his palm, making her skin burn.
He didn't move closer, only lowered his head slightly. The brim of his hat brushed against her forehead, the fabric slightly rough to the touch. His breath gently caressed her face, carrying a faint scent of mineral dust and icing sugar.
Player blushed and moved closer to him, slowly tilting her head until she felt Batter's lips touch his. At that moment, she froze, as if a pause button had been pressed.
Batter didn't move slowly either, quietly rubbing their lips together. Player could feel Batter's breathing become noticeably rapid; his usually steady chest was now heaving. His hands, used to gripping bats, carefully cupped her cheeks, the calluses on his knuckles brushing against her burning skin, sending a slight shiver down her spine.
When their lips truly touched, Player was surprised to find that Batter's lips were much softer than she had imagined. At first, it was just a fleeting touch, tentative and hesitant. But when she unconsciously pursed her lower lip, Batter suddenly tightened his arms around her waist.
"Ugh...!"
Player's gasp was muffled by his words. Batter's kiss suddenly became aggressive, as if long-suppressed emotions had finally found an outlet. He deepened the kiss, awkward yet passionate, with the tenacity and focus characteristic of a baseball player. Player could taste the lingering sweetness on his lips, mixed with the unique metallic tang of battle; this contradictory flavor made her dizzy.
But before she could react, Player felt herself being violently pulled up. She felt as if Batter had forcefully pressed her onto the bed, and she tried to understand the ominous situation.
"...What's wrong with you?"
[...I feel like if we just do this, it's a bit too simple.]
Batter tried to unbutton his clothes, as if he had already prepared something.
"Huh...?"
[Besides, the door still isn't open, is it?] Player's breath hitched. She seemed to realize that struggling was futile. Her back was buried in the white sheets, and Batter's body heat radiated from him, almost burning her. She could almost see the black, tight-fitting shirt he wore underneath clinging to his collarbone, outlining his neck perfectly.
[And I think if we haven't succeeded after kissing, then it must be *that* thing.]
Player was more panicked than ever. Batter seemed serious; he was now trying to undo his belt.
[Damn it, what do I do?! Ugh!] Player's mind raced. Was she nervous? Or was she experiencing a series of pleasant surprises, or was it going as she hoped? She didn't even dare look at Batter again; it seemed that this was the first time this had happened, and she was still too nervous. But after a long while, Batter still didn't seem to move. Player slowly half-closed her eyes, trying to see why he had stopped. She was startled when she opened her eyes, while Batter seemed quite puzzled.
Player didn't dare say much about his size, but instead, she took the initiative to unbutton and remove her clothes.
[What's wrong?]
"Uh… well, how about you do some foreplay? It's my first time."
[Why?]
"You're too big!"
Batter snorted, as if he had heard something interesting, his expression softening.
[Teach me.]
But Batter didn't really listen to her. Instead, he slowly pulled Player's black dress up, hooked her panties down, and placed them on the corner of the bed. The cool touch made Player feel uneasy; she tensed up.
[You can relax.] "How could that be... I wouldn't dare with that 'I'm going to kill you all' look on your face."
[Then try not looking at my face.]
"Huh?"
Batter sighed, slowly touching her clitoris with his fingers. He glanced at Player, who lay slumped on the bed; she seemed to be silently watching his long performance, and was starting to get aroused. Batter tried to pry open her vulva with his thumb and ring finger, then smoothly inserted two fingers along their pads, gradually widening the opening.
The feeling of being directly shoved in wasn't much better than being penetrated directly, Player thought, but the passage already seemed to betray her, tightly gripping his fingers, overly enthusiastic.
[So tight, not quite what I imagined.]
"You act like you're not hard."
Player rubbed her thigh against him, and Batter jolted, immediately grabbing her soft thigh with his other hand. The pink and soft feel immediately convinced him that what he was about to do would not disappoint.
[Don't be so impatient, didn't you say you wanted more foreplay?] [However, Batter seemed to realize something was amiss. After all, the soft flesh inside her seemed to be getting increasingly wet and slippery from the rubbing, growing increasingly eager. Player was probably already somewhat unable to resist, given how he was looking at him like that. Perhaps it was just because he couldn't bring himself to say it… So he tentatively asked:
[Or do you feel you're ready or unable to resist?]
"It's clearly you who can't take it anymore!"
Player certainly didn't have much patience, but more than that, the initial situation might determine how he would treat her in the future. Although this wasn't an interview, if the first impression wasn't good, even if she got hired later, it would only be a weakness…
Of course, it was also for the sake of self-esteem; what woman wouldn't want to be without this?
Player's body tensed abruptly, her legs involuntarily intertwining. Batter's fingers slowly moved in and out of her body, sometimes advancing a little further, producing shameful wet sounds.] She could clearly feel the calluses on his knuckles scraping against her sensitive inner walls—marks left from prolonged gripping of the rod, now the most agonizing source of stimulation.
"Wait, wait a minute… ah… your hand…" Her voice trembled, her fingertips gripping the sheets tightly.
Batter's gaze was fixed intently on her flushed face, as if trying to etch every subtle reaction into his memory. His breathing became noticeably rapid, yet he maintained his composure: [Not enough?]
"It's not not enough—it's… too… too much…" Player bit her lip, her toes curling in shame.
Batter's Adam's apple bobbed, and he slowly withdrew his fingers. His wet fingertips glistened in the light. He looked down at them, then back at Player, his eyes darkening.
[…very wet.] "You bad guy! Don't say things like that..." Batter pressed his finger to Player's lips, forcing her to close her mouth. He suddenly leaned down, his warm tongue replacing his finger. The soft, wet touch made her gasp, her toes involuntarily curling.
[But it tastes good.] When he looked up, his lips were still glistening with moisture, but his expression remained terrifyingly calm, as if the person who had just buried his face between her legs wasn't him. But his taut jawline and reddened earlobes betrayed him.
[So, can I begin?]
His hand soothingly massaged her lower abdomen, but his voice was more ferocious than ever. Batter's voice was much deeper than usual, his breathing heavy as if he had just finished a fierce battle. With one hand, he folded Player's legs to his chest, a position that completely exposed her buttocks to the cool air, her pink vulva twitching slightly with tension. Player could clearly see the pale blue veins on the inside of her thighs, and the light red marks left on her skin by Batter's well-defined knuckles.
"Ugh...!"
Player instinctively tried to resist, but the sudden increase in the thickness of the fabric in her mouth silenced all her protests. The hard part of the hat brim pressed against her canine teeth, and the leather strap rubbed against her tongue, producing a faint metallic taste. She then noticed how abnormal Batter's condition was—his usually calm, light-colored pupils were now shrunk to pinpoints, and beads of sweat rolled down his taut jawline, soaking the collar of his black turtleneck with dark stains.
[Because even if you try to endure it... it will still hurt.]
His Adam's apple bobbed violently as he spoke, his left hand gripping his erect penis and rubbing it against her inner thigh. Player was horrified to discover that its size was simply appalling; the purplish-red tip was already oozing clear pre-ejaculate, stretching into thin, silvery threads on her skin. When the cool touch pressed against her sensitive inner thigh, she shuddered, her toes curling involuntarily.
Batter suddenly leaned forward, the rough fabric of his baseball uniform brushing against her bare nipples. Player, stimulated by the double sensation, jerked her head back, her skull slamming against the headboard with a dull thud. The movement caused her hat to slip slightly from her mouth, which Batter immediately pushed back in with his thumb. The lingering liquid on his fingertips mingled with the salty scent of sweat, creating a dizzying effect.
"...Ugh!"
Player's pupils contracted sharply. Without warning, Batter thrust forward, his burning tip forcefully forcing open her tightly closed opening. The pain of being forcibly stretched made her vision blur, tears instantly welling in her eyes. The rough baseball cap creaked under her teeth, even the whimper escaping her nose vibrated with the friction of the fabric.
[Deep breath.] Batter's voice was hoarse and barely audible, yet his hand gently caressed her spasming lower abdomen. Player realized she had been holding her breath, the burning pain in her lungs even overpowering the discomfort in her lower body. She gasped for breath, feeling the foreign object inside her penetrate deeper—Batter was pushing in at a maddeningly slow pace, each inch sending shivers down her spine.
Just as Player finally adjusted to the initial throbbing pain, Batter suddenly gripped her chin. His hands, calloused from years of holding a rod, held her with perfect control, neither allowing her to break free nor leaving bruises. Player was forced to look up, meeting his face so close—this ever-meticulous Purifier now had disheveled hair, sweat clinging to his forehead in dark clumps, his light-colored pupils swirling with a dark undercurrent she had never seen before.
All sobs were silenced by a sudden kiss.
As Batter's bloody tongue forced its way through her teeth, Player tasted the metallic rust. Those weren't marks from a fight—they were marks from when she'd bitten his perfectly shaped lower lip in excruciating pain. This realization sent a shiver down Player's spine, and Batter seized the opportunity, gently nibbling at her trembling tongue with his canines, like a wild beast preying on its prey's most vulnerable spot.
The crumpled baseball cap was deftly swept away by her tongue, landing with a dull thud at the foot of the bed. Player vaguely saw the black fabric spread out on the floor, its lining still glistening with her saliva. This sight shamed her more than her naked body, as if some solemn symbol had been utterly defiled.
"Ugh...!"
A cry of pain suddenly escaped their intertwined lips. Batter's penis was pressed against the most sensitive fold inside her, rotating slightly with the angle of their kisses. Player's nails immediately dug into his back, creating messy wrinkles in his white baseball uniform. She could feel the taut muscles of his back beneath the fabric, like a fully drawn bowstring, ready to be released.
The kiss was fierce, like some kind of declaration. Batter's fangs occasionally grazed her swollen lips, a slight, punitive sting. But when he noticed Player starting to pull away, the force would immediately soften, turning into a feather-like lick—like the way he would carefully wipe away the bloodstains with a coarse cloth and then polish his beloved baseball bat to a shine with a velvet cloth after a war.
"Ha..."
Player's protests were shattered by the impact. Batter suddenly began thrusting, the first few strokes tentatively restrained. But as she uncontrollably contracted her inner walls, the rationality in his light-colored pupils crumbled instantly.
The third thrust completely changed the mood.
Player's vision exploded with colorful flashes. Batter's attack was incredibly fast, each thrust precisely grinding against the soft flesh protruding inside her. The rough baseball uniform fabric rubbed against her bare nipples with each movement, the metal zipper leaving tiny red marks as it scraped against her collarbone. Player tried to grab something to steady herself, ultimately only clutching his open shirt—the collar of his black turtleneck was torn and deformed, revealing an old, light-colored scar on his collarbone.
"Slower... Ahh!"
Player's pleas turned into a high-pitched moan. Batter suddenly changed angle, the sensation of his glans scraping against her sensitive spot making her insteps tense. This reaction clearly aroused him; she clearly heard suppressed breathing above her head, followed by an even more ferocious penetration.
The sticky, wet sounds were exceptionally clear in the enclosed space. Player was ashamed to find that her body had already betrayed her will; the secreted fluids were flowing down from their point of contact, soaking the sheets with dark stains. Even more terrifying was the speed at which the pleasure was building—Batter's fingertips had somehow pinched her erect nipples, his rough fingertips mimicking the rhythm of his thrusts.
[Keep screaming!]
"No...there...!"
Player's cries were nasal. As Batter's thumb pressed and swirled around her nipple, a current of pleasure shot straight to her lower abdomen. Her internal walls spasmed violently; this unexpected orgasm came quickly and intensely. In the flash of white before her eyes, she saw Batter's Adam's apple bobbing—he was swallowing the sweet sounds she made in her loss of control.
In the afterglow of her orgasm, Player vaguely felt Batter slow down his pace. Before she could even catch her breath, she realized he was preparing an even more terrifying attack. His fingers, slick with bodily fluids, suddenly touched her swollen clitoris, circling and pressing it while his lower body began a new round of thrusts. This double stimulation made Player spring up like a fish out of water, only to be firmly pinned down by Batter's body.
"Damn it, kill...me..." Player's nails scratched at the back of his neck until they bled. Batter chuckled softly, panting as he bit her earlobe: [This is...just the beginning.]
As he finished speaking, Player was suddenly lifted up. This position allowed his penis to penetrate even deeper, the tip almost touching her cervix. She screamed and clung to Batter's neck, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist—then realized with horror that this action only made her sink deeper. The front of Batter's baseball jersey was completely soaked with sweat, and through the damp fabric, she could feel his chest muscles heaving violently.
"Put me...down..." Player's protest was weak, almost like a plea. Batter, however, began to thrust up and down, his penis grinding against her most sensitive spot with each shove. Player's vision blurred; the pleasure built up too quickly, almost painfully sharp.
When Batter suddenly stopped, Player let out a dissatisfied whimper. But the next second she understood his intention—he unbuttoned his baseball jersey with one hand and tossed it aside, revealing his muscular upper body encased in a black turtleneck sweater. Player stared, mesmerized, at the muscle lines outlined by sweat on the tight-fitting garment, until Batter grabbed her hand and pressed it against his chest.
"Count my heartbeats."
He commanded in a hoarse voice. A thunderous vibration resonated beneath Player's palm, each beat synchronized with the pulse within her body. This realization reignited her recently subsided desire; she twisted her hips restlessly, but Batter held her hips firmly.
"If you want it, move yourself."
This provocative whisper sent a chill down Player's spine. She bit her lip, trying to lift herself, but gravity brought her crashing back down. The intense pleasure caused them both to groan simultaneously, and Batter's fingertips immediately dug into her buttocks as a reward.
After a few clumsy attempts, Player found her rhythm. She clung to Batter's shoulders, rising and falling, watching sweat drip from his dark eyelashes onto her chest. This sense of control brought a strange excitement, until Batter suddenly gripped her waist and began thrusting in rhythm—the rhythm instantly crumbled, and Player, overwhelmed by pleasure, threw her head back, her neck forming a beautiful arc.
[I'm...I'm going to come...]
She declared, her voice trembling with tears. Batter suddenly pulled away, flipping her over in Player's bewildered gaze. This position left her buttocks high in the air, completely exposed to his view. Player buried her face in the pillow in shame, but as Batter re-entered her, she let out a wanton moan that even she herself didn't recognize.
The final thrust was like a storm. Batter's hands gripped her waist tightly, each thrust carrying a crushing force. Player was pushed forward relentlessly, her knees chafing red against the sheets. As she climaxed, the way she bit the pillowcase was strikingly similar to how she had bitten that baseball cap, only this time the tears welling in her eyes weren't from pain.
Player felt Batter's movements growing increasingly rapid in the afterglow. His sweaty body pressed against the back of her neck as he leaned down, his breathing heavy like that of a wounded beast. When the scalding liquid finally entered her, Player vaguely heard him call her name indistinctly—this was the first vulnerability exposed by the Purifier, who never let his guard down in battle, while fully conscious.
As the semen slid down Player's trembling inner thighs, it left a semi-transparent stain on the sheets. The viscous fluid, still warm from Batter's body, sent subtle shivers down her sensitive skin. Batter's fingertips were running through her sweat-dampened hair, the movements as gentle as disassembling a fragile circuit board—a stark contrast to his earlier aggressive, conquering manner, as if the man who had gripped her hips and pressed her against his genitals was merely an illusion.
Player turned, panting, and crashed into a pale gray mist. Batter's irises now possessed an unusual translucency, like metal melted by desire, the edges still shimmering with lingering passion. Dark red scabs clung to the wound on his lower lip, his lips opening and closing slightly with his rapid breathing, revealing a glimpse of moist teeth. Player, almost unconsciously, reached out and pressed her thumb against the wound, immediately feeling his held breath—this warrior, capable of shattering monster skulls without flinching, was now tense at the slightest touch.
"Does it hurt?"
She asked, stroking the edge of the wound. The lips beneath her fingertips were softer than she had imagined, trembling slightly from the heat of the moment. Batter didn't answer, but gently nibbled at her fingertip with his canines, his tongue swirling around the salty sweat remaining on her knuckles. This warning gesture made Player notice that his ears were burning red—even the Purifier, without his baseball cap, could reveal such a vivid vulnerability.
Player suddenly sat up. The movement caused the remaining semen to slide from her groin to the back of her knee, the cool, wet touch making her moan softly. Batter's gaze immediately followed the silvery trail, his Adam's apple bobbing as the veins on his neck bulged. She deliberately bent her legs, watching the drop of liquid dangle precariously from her knee: "Aren't you going to clean me up?"
The air froze for a moment. Batter's pupils contracted sharply, his right hand unconsciously gripping the crumpled sheet.
[Ugh...]
Batter's muffled groan seemed to come from deep within his chest. His hand gripped Player's nape tightly, a pressure somewhere between confinement and caress. Player straddled his waist, immediately feeling his renewed desire pressing against her soft, wet thighs. This realization made her feverish—the ever-calm Purifier's recovery time was actually much shorter than she had imagined.
"Still shy? It's like the monster who was just going crazy in bed wasn't you."
Batter suddenly rolled over, pinning her back onto the mattress. This time, his movements carried a post-coital languor, the open fabric of his baseball uniform enveloping Player's body like wings. As his lips slid down her neck, Player realized this seemingly restrained man was collecting salt from her skin with the tip of his tongue, from her collarbone to her nipples, then down the curve of her ribs to her lower abdomen. The mark-like tremor made her clutch the sheets; the tearing sound was exceptionally clear in the silence.
"You...hey!"
The protest turned into a short scream. Batter's canines suddenly grazed the sensitive skin below her navel, while two fingers unexpectedly probed her still-open vagina, like a silent resistance.
Player could clearly feel her bodily fluids mixing with his semen, creating a gurgling sound; this lewd noise made her toes curl up in shame. Batter, however, seemed oblivious, focused as if performing some kind of purification ritual, even precisely calculating the angle of his knuckles.
"Let me clean you up."
As his fingers brushed against a crease, Player arched her back sharply. Batter immediately caught this reaction and began to simultaneously rub her clitoris with his thumb. This dual stimulation caused a burst of colorful noise before Player's eyes; she grabbed him haphazardly, but he took the opportunity to deepen the penetration.
"Enough...too...ah..."
Player's pleas were shattered by the thrusting. Batter suddenly withdrew his fingers, the fluid trailing behind him drawing long, thin strands of silver in the air. He stared at his wet fingertips for two seconds, then suddenly put them in his mouth. He performed this erotic act as if savoring communion, his drooping eyelashes casting fan-shaped shadows on his face, concealing the turbulent emotions surging in his eyes.
Player's heart was pounding in her chest. She watched Batter straddle her, beads of sweat dripping from his nose to her nipples, sending a shiver down her spine. A sense of danger made her want to escape, but he grabbed her waist and pulled her back. When Batter finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, as if sanded: "[Next time...]" He pressed against her wet entrance, "[It'll be more comfortable.]"
It sounded more like a declaration than a promise. Player vaguely thought, amidst the overwhelming pleasure, that Batter had indeed become more skilled, as he said—this time entry was much smoother, the swollen passage fully opened, greedily devouring every inch of hard heat. His thrusts were mathematically precise, each withdrawal leaving a tip stuck at the entrance, deliberately grinding against that maddening sensitive spot before fully penetrating.
What was deadly was Batter's expression. Gone was the coldness of battle, gone was the awkwardness of their first time together, replaced by a near-honest focus that Player had never seen before. His pale pupils reflected her aroused face, suppressed breaths escaping her chapped lips. As Player convulsed from the continued climax, he suddenly lowered his head and kissed her, embracing her once more.
This kiss was gentler than any before. Batter's tongue slowly traced the shape of her lips, as if memorizing the outline of some precious treasure through touch. Player tasted the rusty flavor of the dissolved blood clots on his lips, the lingering sweetness of sugar in his breath, and some unnamed emotion unique to Batter. As he released inside her, Player vaguely heard him mumble something, but it was drowned out by the roar of blood.
The feeling of being filled with semen again made Player slightly dazed. Batter didn't immediately withdraw, but instead pulled her into his arms in that connected position. His heart was pounding so fast it hurt Player's eardrums. The baseball uniform, stained with both of their bodily fluids, was finally removed, revealing a body covered in scars—Player felt those uneven marks so clearly for the first time, each a cruel badge of honor from her Purifier career.
"This is..."
Her fingertips stopped on a gruesome scar on the back of Batter's neck. It was a shallow mark left from a mistake he made during the battle before Zone 3, the stitches still faintly visible. Batter suddenly grabbed her wrist, leading her to run his fingers over each of his old wounds, finally stopping at his left chest—a strong, erratic throbbing pulse beneath his palm.
"I know you've been watching all along."
He whispered, and Player heard the uncertainty in his voice for the first time, "Because of you."
The room remained pristine, as if nothing had happened, but Player suddenly felt less cold. She nestled in Batter's arms, listening to his breathing gradually steady, her fingertips unconsciously toying with the Zone 1 pass badge that had fallen from her baseball uniform. The metal surface gleamed from the friction, tiny numbers etched along the edges—she later learned it was the date of their first meeting.
Batter's lips pressed against hers again, this time just a simple touch, as light as a snowflake falling on a wound. Player, half-asleep, heard him say a second sentence, this time she heard it clearly:
[…]
These words carried Batter's characteristic awkward promise, making Player smile in her sleep. She knew that when the morning light reddened the Zone 3 mist, the cold-blooded purifier would don his baseball cap again, transforming back into the fearsome killing machine. But now, her black hair was tucked between his fingers, her wound etched on his lips, and their bodily fluids were drying in the same shape on the sheets—this vivid evidence was enough to sustain them until their next encounter. —
This might no longer be lust, but something much more intense. In a daze, Player vaguely realized they might be crossing a line: from partners to comrades, from comrades to each other's Achilles' heel. Like the never-ending sugar furnace of Zone 3, they were forging a bond stronger than the Purification Protocol with their most primal desires.
Player stared at the flickering light on the ceiling, at Batter's reddened earlobes beneath his short white hair, and suddenly reached out and snatched the baseball cap he had been holding. As the black fabric fell to the foot of the bed, she saw her reflection in Batter's light-colored pupils—a bite mark on her neck, her body reeking of his scent, yet smiling more brightly than ever.
"Don't take it off," Batter's voice held a barely perceptible panic as he reached for the hat.
Player pressed down on his wrist, her fingertips tracing the calluses on his palm. "Just stay like this for a little while..." she kissed his sweaty forehead. "Batter without his baseball cap... I like him too."
[...If you keep saying that, I'm going to get hard again.]
"Hey."
[But speaking of which, what's our relationship now? Doing this kind of thing can't be considered a normal partnership anymore, right?]
"Huh?...Uh, a couple?"
Batter's movements froze completely. Player could feel his body trembling slightly, even his thrusting slowed a beat.
[I thought it was a more intimate relationship...]
When he lowered his head again, Player secretly smiled, silently thinking that perhaps the door would never open. But at this moment, who cared about that?
The sounds of water at their point of union continued, intertwining with their breaths to create the most beautiful melody in Zone 3. Batter's short, white hair brushed against her cheek, carrying the bitter taste of shampoo and the salty tang of sweat, while their bodily fluids dried in identical patterns on the sheets—vivid evidence enough to prove that they had briefly possessed each other in this pure white cage.
(The End)