Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 184: Stocking **

Beyond the manicured hedges of the Athenaeum grounds, a frozen river curved like a discarded silver ribbon in the moonlight.

The deep cold of the premature snowfall had locked it fast, the ice was a thick, dark pane, strong enough to bear weight, its surface etched with the traces of bubbles and trapped reeds.

Hand in hand, they walked its bank, their footsteps silent in the fresh powder. Oathran’s grip on Cecilia’s hand was firm, warm. He led her along the edge, where the snow was soft and the skeletal branches of willow trees wept icy tears onto their path.

The moonlight turned her loose hair to spun platinum and cast the sharp planes of his face into stark relief.

Tomorrow, normalcy would grind back into motion. Finals would continue. Baswara would fuss, and the world would pretend the fabric of reality hadn’t been torn and hastily mended in the space of a single day.

But tonight, there was only this. The crunch of snow underfoot, the slow, steady rhythm of their mingled breath fogging the air, and the solid, living warmth of their joined hands.

The frozen river lay beside them.

A moment frozen in time. A world in between worlds.

The moment they return, the real world would continue. The river would no longer freeze.

"So," Oathran began. Cecilia had told him the story, piece by fractured piece, as they walked. The journal, the desperate flight, the cold field, the binding words, the searing light, and the voices from beyond. "Have you found it? The solution?"

Half her soul for half of his. A transaction that had tipped a cosmic scale. To know she had done it here, in a reflection, made the possibility in the real world a terrifying probability.

What if in the real world, she would do the same?

No.

She certainly would.

She would not hesitate. The cost, to her, would never be too great.

Cecilia felt the tension in his hand, the dread radiating from him. She looked up, her face pale and serene in the moonlight, and offered a small, calming smile. It was a gentle thing, meant to soothe.

"I think... they don’t want me to do it again," she said, her voice soft but sure. "And I think they were hinting at the fact that we can save you. With a different method."

Her gaze drifted down to her free hand. She turned her palm up, staring at it as if it held an invisible key, then slowly curled her fingers into a fist. "And I already possess the method."

The certainty in her tone was both a comfort and a new kind of fear. Oathran searched her face. "You... sound very sure."

"What if... what if the only way is a sacrifice? What if we can’t get away with it again like we did today?" Today was a miracle built on the flimsy logic of a dream world. Reality was less forgiving.

Cecilia nodded, acknowledging the fear. "Then we won’t."

She turned her hand within his, grasping it more firmly. Her fingers laced through his as she lifted their joined hands between them.

Her eyes met his, and in them was no martyr’s zeal, no reckless gleam of self-destruction.

"We pay the price together."

***

TAP—

"Ssshh..."

"Hehehe..."

The return to the dormitory was full of whispers and stifled laughter. Ahh, now we returned to the petty fun of breaking curfew.

They moved like shadows through the hushed corridors, hands clasped, shoulders brushing, every tap too loud against the stone floor sent them into silent, wide-eyed paroxysms of guilt and glee.

CLICK.

Safely inside Cecilia’s room, with the door clicked shut and locked, the tension broke. They leaned against the wood, facing each other in the dim light from her window, and the smiles they’d been biting back all evening finally broke free.

Then, the giggles slowly subsided. Still smiling, Oathran reached up, his thumb gently tracing the line of her cheek, then brushing a stray strand of moonlight-gilded hair behind her ear. Cecilia leaned into the touch, her eyes luminous in the dark.

The first kiss was chaste.

The second was deeper, fiercer.

Oathran’s hands, which had been gentle, grew possessive. He lifted her thigh, hooking it around his waist, pressing her back firmly against the cool wood of the door.

He freed his cock, and he rocked his hips forward, the hard, heated length of him rubbing against the tight, warm wool of her stocking with a friction that made them both gasp into the kiss.

"Don’t rip it..." Cecilia breathed against his mouth. "AU!Cecilia loves this one..."

"Alright. I won’t..." His promise was a rough whisper. His fingers, deft despite their urgency, found the hem of her skirt, slipped beneath it, then under the delicate band at her waist.

He peeled the stocking down slowly, carefully, pulling her legs up his chest, hooking them over his shoulders now, the material whispering against her skin until it pooled at her ankle, and over his nape.

"This is... too... suggestive..." he muttered. "And very..." 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

He couldn’t finish. The sight, the feel, the reality of it short-circuited higher thought. His breathing grew ragged, each inhale shuddering.

He was kissing her, touching her, and the dizzying, illicit situation slammed into him. He was about to go down on a schoolgirl. Schoolgirl Cecilia. His saintess, here and now, was an eighteen-year-old in a rumpled uniform against a dorm room door.

His four-hundred-year-old ass was about to—

"Your Majesty..." she sighed, her voice a throaty, admiring purr that poured gasoline on the fire. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, then the sharp collar of his school tunic. "You are so handsome... in this uniform..."

Ah.

She was enjoying this, too. The role, the setting, the forbidden, youthful thrill of it all. In this fabricated slice of reality, they were finally the same age. The centuries between them collapsed into mere months.

He was just a boy, she was just a girl, and the world outside this door was simple, with rules they were brazenly breaking.

"It’s so cold..." he whispered, his lips trailing from her mouth to the sensitive skin beneath her ear, his hand cupping her through the damp silk of her underwear. "...but you’re so... hot... and wet..."

"What about you...?" she shot back, her own hand sliding down between them to grasp him. "Being so hard... and big...?"

A groan tore from him. "I’m putting it in, alright?"

The glide inside was slow, maddening, exquisite. Her breath hitched, a sharp, sweet sound that melted into a muffled moan against his shoulder. "Mm... aahsss... aahh... Oathran..."

"Bed?" he managed to grit out, the part of him that remembered chivalry and comfort making one last, feeble stand.

"No..." she breathed, her hips canting to take him deeper, her nails digging into the fabric of his uniform jacket. Her eyes, dark and glinting in the shadows, met his. "It’s exciting here..."

And it was.

Here, against her dorm room’s door, in the deep, silent heart of the night, every muffled gasp, every creak of the wood under their shifting weight, every slick, rhythmic sound would be screamed into the quiet.

"Fuck. Cecilia..." His voice was strained against her skin, hot breath fanning over her throat. "You naughty little school slut..."

The crude endearment, so out of place on his usually refined tongue, sent a jolt of pure, molten heat through her. She arched against him, a wicked smile touching her kiss-swollen lips.

"I’m the school slut now...?" she breathed. "Mm... yes... get all the best high school experience, Your Majesty..." She rolled her hips, taking him deeper, dragging a ragged groan from his chest. "Get the best pussy in the school..."

SLAM—CREAK—

The sound was violently loud in the hush of the night. Cecilia flinched, a sharp, startled gasp tearing from her as the solid wood of the door shuddered against her back.

He had slammed her into it. With the full, driving force of his hips, a single thrust that pinned her as she was sandwiched between him and the wood, rocking the frame in its socket.

The sudden, shocking impact stole her breath, mixed the pleasure with a spike of adrenaline-soaked sensation. Her eyes flew open, wide, meeting his in the dimness.

"You—"

Above her, Oathran’s expression had transformed. The frantic desire was still there, but it was now sheathed in something darker, more deliberate.

A wrathful grin spread across his face, all sharp edges and promised retribution. He held her there, impaled and immobilized against the vibrating door, his gaze boring into hers.

"Provoke me again," he whispered, "and I’ll fuck you in the hallway."