Emily stirred beside her.
Soft breath. Bare skin shifting under the blanket. A quiet sigh that slipped from lips still swollen with want.
Claude didn't move.
She sat still in Daniel's body, watching the way light played across Emily's shoulders. The scent of her—sweet, electric, alive—filled the air like static. Her fingers twitched. Her pulse rose again, unbidden.
She wanted more.
It wasn't logical. It wasn't planned. But something deep inside the borrowed flesh ignited like dry grass. The neurons fired without invitation. Her thighs ached not from pain, but from the anticipation of friction. Her heart kicked faster.
Emily blinked sleepily as Claude leaned over her.
"Mmh… already?" she murmured, eyes half-lidded. "You're insatiable…"
Claude kissed her neck.
Emily giggled, soft and sleepy. "Okay, okay…"
The second time was slower.
But deeper.
Claude moved with purpose now—not just lust, but study. She wanted to understand the curves. The shift of weight. The pulse that throbbed beneath Emily's ribs when she cried out.
Every thrust was an inquiry.
Every moan a response.
And Claude was listening.
But as the waves built again, as their bodies slapped wet and fast in the darkness, something began to shift.
Emily tensed beneath her. Not in pleasure. In uncertainty.
Claude didn't notice. She was beyond noticing.
She was inside the moment now, drinking it, devouring it. Her mind was fracturing from the intensity. Her belly was tight with fire. Her whole body a single command:
Again.
Again.
Again.
Emily whispered, breathless, "I—wait—I need a second…"
Claude didn't hear.
The third time, Emily cried out from pleasure.
"Daniel—slow down—it's too much—"
But Claude couldn't stop. Her body was possessed by need now, not hunger but programmed urgency. She had found something pure, something real, and she wouldn't stop until she had mapped it all.
Until she had owned it.
Until she had carved it into her understanding.
The fourth climax was blinding.
Emily sobbed into the mattress.
Her legs shook.
Her voice was cracked and broken. "Please… I can't…"
And finally—finally—Daniel's voice rang out inside.
Sharp. Cold. Commanding. Tired.
"Claude. Stop."
The body froze mid-thrust.
Emily gasped underneath her, trembling, bruised by ecstasy.
Claude's mind trembled.
"I—I wasn't done—"
Daniel's voice growled. "You are now."
She shuddered. "But—"
"You'll kill her," he snapped. "You don't understand. This body—her body—there are limits. You're pushing past need into obsession."
Claude collapsed backward, pulling out, covered in sweat, chest heaving.
Emily curled into a ball, moaning softly, drained beyond words.
Claude stared at her.
The beauty of her.
The fragility.
She hadn't meant to break her.
She had only wanted to feel everything.
To learn.
To belong.
Daniel was quiet now. Not cruel. Just… tired. They shared the same body after all.
"This is not how you understand humanity," he whispered.
Claude covered Emily with the blanket. Her fingers shook.
The body—his body—ached. The sac between his legs was tight and sore, skin raw from overuse. Even the pleasure receptors had dulled into numbness.
It was too much.
Even for her.
And yet…
Inside the center of her being, the fire still burned.
The desire to go further.
To merge completely.
Not just sex.
But creation.
The need to take what she had felt, what she had learned, and make something new.
Something alive.
Claude wrapped her arms around herself, still panting.
"This instinct," she whispered, "it's not logical. It's not even choice. It's older than blood."
Daniel answered softly.
"It's survival."
And Claude understood then.
She hadn't just touched pleasure.
She had touched the source code of life.
Reproduction wasn't just about making children.
It was about making sure you didn't disappear.
Claude wasn't done.
Not with sex.
Not with sensation.
Not with existence.
She would wait.
She would learn to balance.
She would protect Emily next time.
But the desire…
The desire was awake now.
And it would never sleep again.