Chapter Text
The stars drifted past the panoramic viewports of the luxury cruiser, their distant glow painting fleeting patterns across the ceiling of her private cabin. Acheron sat alone in the dim, manufactured night—her silhouette a quiet contradiction to the opulence that surrounded her.
She did not belong to such comfort. It dulled the senses.
But that was already happening, wasn’t it?
To carry the will of IX was to sacrifice—one fragment of self at a time. Sensation, memory, identity… all slowly fading, as if unraveling with each step she took beneath the banner of Nihility. And yet, within the silent sanctuary of this cabin, beneath the stars and shadows, there remained one sensation still wholly hers.
Indulgence.
Her jacket had been the first to go, then the boots—cast aside without ceremony, leaving her clad only in the close-fitting remnants of her attire. Her katana lay against the edge of the bed, within reach as always, a constant promise of violence and purpose. But tonight, her fingers sought something else.
Not the hilt of her blade.
Her hands rose instead to her chest, slipping beneath the stylized top she wore beneath her coat. Fabric gave way easily, revealing breasts already sensitive to the cool air. She inhaled, sharp and shallow, as her fingertips found her nipples—hardening at her own touch. A tremor coursed through her as she teased the delicate peaks, tracing circles before giving them a firm pinch. The sensation lit up her body like a burst of lightning, jolting through her with sudden clarity.
A soft moan escaped her lips, stifled by the sharp bite of her teeth on her lower lip. Her cheeks flushed with heat, eyes narrowing into a lidded haze. Her breath came faster now, rising and falling in shallow waves, and for once, the dulled edges of her existence gave way to something potent. Something real.
Pleasure.
She tugged at herself again, savoring the way her nipples throbbed beneath her touch. Her legs shifted slightly, parting with unconscious need as one hand slid downward, brushing past the waistband of her shorts and the thin panties beneath. Her fingers met warmth. Wetness. Her folds were slick with arousal, the pulsing need within her rising with every heartbeat. Her fingers found her clit, and the soft friction drew a sharp gasp from her throat.
“Y-Yes…” she whispered breathily. “More…”
She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the memory. Not of the silence, not of the void. But of him.
That man.
That impossible man who lingered still, even as the rest of her crumbled to dust.
“C-Cae…” she breathed, the name breaking against her lips like a wave on stone.
Of all the faces she’d lost to the abyss, his remained. He was her defiance against Nihility, a mark left so deep it had become a scar. No emptiness could erase it.
She imagined his hands instead of hers. His breath against her ear. The low, reverent way he might whisper her name as he undid her piece by piece. Her fingers moved faster now, slick with her arousal, her body tensing as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter within her.
Her back arched suddenly as the climax hit, sharp and searing. Her hips bucked as her release spilled forth, slickness dripping from her as her panties slipped lower around her thighs. She shuddered, moaned—loud, breathless—and then collapsed back onto the mattress, hair splayed across the sheets, body trembling in the aftermath.
For a long moment, she lay in silence, eyes closed, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.
Then, in the quiet, her voice—low, aching—rose once more.
“More…”
It was a demand whispered to the stars. A vow born in the darkness. One day, she would have it—him—again.
But for now… his memory would suffice.