"Lily, are you alright?!"

Marcus stumbled forward, panic cutting through his drunken haze. He dropped to his knees beside his wife, grabbing her trembling hands.

Her skin was warm, her pulse racing under his fingertips. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, hair a tangled halo, lips parted as she tried to speak.

A weak smile tugged at her mouth—fragile, exhausted, almost guilty.

"It's okay," she whispered, voice barely a breath. "I'm… fine."

Marcus's chest clenched. She was with him. That was all that mattered now.

Whatever madness had just happened in this cursed house—whatever Alex had done—it was over. He would protect her, he'd keep her safe. No more of this insanity.

He turned, jaw tightening, and glared at the other man.

Alex sat at the far end of the couch, shirt clinging to his chest with sweat, posture relaxed like he owned the damn place.

His lips curled into that same insufferable, smug smile. The kind that screamed I win.

Marcus's blood boiled. "You—"

Alex lifted a lazy hand, waving like they were old friends at a barbecue. That single gesture set Marcus off. He lurched forward, teeth grinding, fists clenching—

And then—

Thud.

The lights blinked once, twice, then vanished completely. Darkness swallowed the room whole.

"Lily?!"

Marcus shouted, voice cracking. He reached out—nothing. The warmth of her hands was gone. The empty air mocked him.

"Lily! Where—where are you?!"

Silence. A heartbeat. Two.

Then it began again.

Plap~ Plap~ Plap~

The sound crawled through the dark, obscene and unmistakable. Wet, rhythmic, merciless.

Marcus froze, eyes wide though they saw nothing. The sound was closer this time, heavier, faster, like the walls themselves were breathing. His drunken mind spun, trying to deny it, trying to explain it away.

"No… no, this isn't real… it can't be…" he whispered, voice breaking into a desperate laugh.

But the noise didn't stop. It only grew louder, the wet rhythm echoing in the dark.

Plap~ Plap~ PLAP~

Each slap hit him like a punch to the gut. The air felt heavy, charged with heat and sin.

He could almost feel it—the movement, the closeness, the impossible truth unraveling right in front of him, hidden only by the dark.

Marcus's heart pounded, breath quick and shallow. He wanted to move, to scream, to stop it—but his body refused.

He just stood there, trembling, the sound filling every corner of his mind until all he could do was whisper again, brokenly:

"...Lily?"

Then—bam!—the lights came roaring back like they had something to prove.

Marcus blinked, eyes adjusting, heart hammering. And once again—somehow, somehow—the two of them weren't in any compromising position. At least, Alex wasn't.

Lily was right there on the couch in front of him, looking like she'd just returned from a rollercoaster straight to hell.

Her face was flushed tomato-red, drool glistening on her chin, hair sticking out like a busted feather duster.

Two buttons on her blouse had gone missing in action, and her skirt had hiked up high enough to start a scandal in any decent neighborhood.

Her whole body twitched like she was still riding aftershocks from an earthquake only she could feel.

"L-Lily… my Lily…"

Marcus's voice cracked as he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around her like he could shield her from whatever cosmic nonsense had just happened.

He glared at Alex, who was lounging at the far end of the room like a smug cat that had just eaten the world's most forbidden canary.

"What did you do to her?!" Marcus barked.

Alex blinked. Pointed at himself. "Me? Nothing. Why?"

"Don't lie to me! I know you did something to her!"

Alex's lips twitched into that maddening smirk, the one that said, Yeah, I could ruin you, but why bother? He leaned back, elbows draped casually over the couch, then locked eyes with Marcus. That gaze alone hit harder than a sermon on sin.

Marcus's anger faltered for just a moment. His stomach flipped. Something about the confidence in Alex's stare made him feel… small. Inferior. Like he was standing barefoot in front of a lion and praying it wasn't hungry.

Alex tilted his head, voice low and lazy. "Did you… see anything?"

Marcus swallowed hard, throat dry. "N-no…"

"Then what," Alex said with a smile that could curdle milk, "exactly are you accusing me of?"

Marcus gulped, throat tight. "It's just…"

He couldn't say it. Couldn't even form the words. He didn't have proof, but every bone in his body screamed that something was off. Something he couldn't see but definitely felt.

Alex chuckled, a deep, lazy sound that made the air around them heavier. "Then go on," he said, smirking. "Ask Lily. Ask her if I did anything bad."

He stretched his arms with a casual roll of his shoulders, the motion pulling his shirt tight against his chest. Muscles rippled like he'd been carved out of arrogance itself.

When he stood, he loomed over the couple—towering, confident, radiating that "alpha villain energy" that made Marcus feel like a rabbit staring up at a very smug wolf.

"N-n-no, husband…" Lily's shaky voice cracked the silence. "Alex didn't… do anything wrong… ngh~"

Her words came out slurred, breathy—too breathy. She looked half-melted, her face flushed, her eyes glassy, her legs still trembling from invisible earthquakes only she could feel.

She was still riding the highs of his dick. Even after him releasing her poor pussy from his monster, she was feeling the after shock. Her walls were throbbing as it had expanded too much.

Marcus's stomach twisted. "L-Lily, but…"

He trailed off. There was no point. Whatever he said, whatever he thought—Lily wasn't here. Not mentally, anyway. She was floating somewhere between reality and pure afterglow, and no argument in the world could drag her back down.

Alex's grin widened, sharp as a knife. "See? I told you. I didn't do anything wrong. And yet, here you are, accusing your savior."

He started walking toward them—slowly. Each step echoed. Confident. Mocking. The kind of walk that made weaker men sweat bullets.

"Is that how you show gratitude, Marcus?" Alex's tone was smooth, teasing. "What do you think I'm gonna do, huh? Snatch your wife when the lights go off?"

Marcus froze, shuddering. "N-no… it's just… I'm sorry. I was being paranoid."

He sighed deeply, defeated. He couldn't prove a damn thing. All he could do was hold Lily close—his trembling arms around her soft body—and swear to himself that he'd never, ever let her go again. Especially not when the lights—

Poof!

Darkness swallowed the room once more.

And from the shadows… came that familiar, soul-shattering rhythm.

Plap~ Plap~ Plap~

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