I moved.
Slow at first, drawing back until only the tip stayed inside her, then pushing back in until our hips met. Naomi's legs locked behind my back, her heels digging into my spine, her body rising to meet each thrust with a rhythm we'd built over six weeks of learning each other.
I lowered my mouth to her breast and drank as I moved.
The dual sensation hit her the way it always did. Milk drawn from one end, me buried in the other, her nervous system trying to process two sources of pleasure at once and failing. Naomi's head fell back against the towel. Her hands scrabbled at my shoulders. Milk flooded my mouth in time with my thrusts, each stroke pushing a fresh pulse from her breast that I swallowed before it could spill.
The System pinged. Twenty-five points. Then twenty-five more. Then more. My lifespan counter ticked upward and I felt the extra days settle into my chest like warmth from a hearth, but that wasn't why I was doing this and both of us knew it.
