Aiden stood frozen in Dorm C-12, caught between a softly moaning Irie and the obsidian-framed mirror that had nearly devoured his soul.
The room's purple-rose glow pulsed faintly, the air thick with lavender oil and raw lust, his pendant humming against his chest like a warning he couldn't heed.
"Clothes off," Selene said, her voice casual, as if ordering tea. "You can keep the boots. It's a ritual detail."
Aiden's head snapped toward her, his face flushing. "W-What?"
"If you climax fully clothed, the Eye's energy disperses unevenly.
Unless you want to rupture a testicle mid-spell, strip." Her violet eyes glinted with that familiar mix of amusement and menace.
He fumbled at his robe's collar, hands shaking, all thumbs.
His cock, already half-hard from the mirror's lingering influence, twitched traitorously as he shed his layers, the cool air teasing his skin.
"Calm down. You're not fucking her," Selene added, leaning against the bedpost, her skirt shifting to reveal a glowing sigil on her thigh. "You're syncing. Your Eye reflects her pleasure. She climaxes, you process it."
"So… magical mutual masturbation?" Aiden muttered, voice cracking, his sarcasm barely masking his panic.
Selene shrugged, her lips curling into a wicked smirk. "That's one way to call it. 'Lustflow Transference' sounds more dignified on academy paperwork."
He was down to his underwear, the fabric straining painfully, when Irie whimpered and stirred on the bed.
Her silver hair clung to her sweat-damp neck, her hand rubbing instinctively between her slick thighs, fingers teasing her folds.
Her breathing hitched—half-asleep, still trapped in the mirror's climax loop, her nude body glistening under the candlelight.
"Selene…" Aiden hissed, his eyes wide. "She's… awake!"
"Barely. The mirror still has her. That's why we start now." Selene stepped forward, dipping her gloved fingers into a vial of glowing silver liquid from the Lustcraft Field Case.
It clung to her skin like molten honey, hissing with heat, its scent sharp and intoxicating.
"Ritual medium," she said, her tone clinical. "You're not strong enough to form a thread without stimulation." Her hand moved—fast, precise.
"Wai—!"
Too late.
Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, brushing the head of his cock with the cool, magical oil.
The sensation was electric, a jolt of pleasure that made his hips buck against nothing, his teeth clamping down to stifle a yelp.
His erection surged, throbbing under her touch, the oil amplifying every nerve.
"Relax. It's Lustcraft, not molestation," Selene said flatly, withdrawing her hand, leaving him panting and flushed.
"That's not reassuring!" Aiden gasped, his voice strained, his cock now painfully hard, glistening with the ritual medium.
But his Purity Eye flared to life, a white-hot pulse behind his right eye.
Golden tendrils spilled from the mirror, lacing across Irie's body like silken vines, coiling around her breasts, her hips, her parted thighs.
Each of her movements—every subtle rock of her hips, every trembling touch—sent a pulse throbbing along the vines.
One strand now bridged from her navel to Aiden's heart, glowing with a shared, intimate heat.
He was linked.
Irie gasped, her back arching on the bed, her violet eyes fluttering open, hazy with arousal and confusion.
"Who… who's… there…?" she whispered, her voice soft, dreamlike.
Aiden froze, his breath catching, unable to speak.
The thread tightened, a tug that made his cock pulse in sync with her heartbeat.
Irie's gaze drifted down, tracing the golden webbing shimmering across her nude body, her fingers pausing mid-rub.
Then she saw him—standing naked, save for his boots, his skin glowing with Lustcraft threads, panting, staring, his erection unmistakable.
She didn't scream.
She smiled, her lips parting in a shy, needy curve.
"I'm dreaming… aren't I?"
"No," Selene said, her voice cutting through the haze, her smirk unwavering.
"But if you fake it well enough, it'll work just fine."