Page 52 of Game Over

She’s kissing me back.

My hands find her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto my lap. She comes eagerly, her body molding against mine as if designed for this exact configuration. Her fingers thread through my hair, tugging just enough to make every nerve-ending fire simultaneously.

I freeze as her lips press harder against mine, a circuit overloading with unexpected data. Kira’s mouth moves with purpose, with knowledge I don’t possess. My hands hover with uncertainty at her waist as she takes complete control.

She angles her head, deepening the contact, and I let her lead. How could I not? This territory is unmapped in my experience—no algorithm exists for how her soft lips press and retreat, for the gentle pressure that sends electricity down my spine.

For once in my life, I’m completely out of my depth.

Her fingers grasp my hair, tugging slightly, and something clicks into place. A switch flips inside me—instinct overriding my paralysis. I pull her tighter against me, my tongue tentatively tracing the seam of her lips before pushing inside. The taste of her hits my system like a drug.

I devour her mouth now, claiming territory I didn’t know I wanted until this moment. My hands span her back, holding her against me.

A confession tumbles from my lips when we break apart before I can analyze the strategic advantage of revealing or concealing this truth.

“I’ve never...” I struggle to find the words, hating how vulnerable this makes me. “This is my first kiss.”

“Your first...?”

I look away. “Your lips are the first to ever touch mine.”

I’ve had sex. I’ve fucked and been fucked. I’ve used bodies and let mine be used, but this press of lips, this breath-sharing, was too intimate, too vulnerable to allow.

Until Kira.

“No one?” Her fingers trace my jawline with soft, languid caresses

“No one,” I confirm, feeling naked in a way that has nothing to do with clothing.

Her eyes hold mine for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in their depths. Then, to my shock, she leans forward again and captures my lips.

This isn’t happening. It can’t happen after everything I’ve done, not after Kira knows who I am—whatI am.

But her mouth moves against mine with undeniable intent, her fingers sliding into my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp. A shudder runs through me—a completely involuntary response that I couldn’t control if I tried. I’ve never felt anything like this destabilizing rush of sensation.

I continue to let her lead, uncertain of the protocols for this exchange. Her tongue darts across my bottom lip, then pushes inside when I open for her. The first slide of her tongue against mine sends electricity down my spine, and I hear a sound—a groan—and realize it came from me.

Her weight shifts on my lap, body pressing closer as her kiss deepens. This isn’t a simulation. This isn’t a calculation. This is Kira, my Kira, choosing to touch me. To taste me.

“Breathe,” she whispers against my lips, and I realize I’ve forgotten how.

I inhale sharply, then capture her mouth again, less tentative now. My hands frame her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones with a gentleness I didn’t know I possessed. Something protective— primitive even unfurls in my chest—not possession, not control, but equally powerful.

Minutes blend together as we explore each other’s mouths—sometimes deep and hungry, sometimes so light it’s barely a brush of lips. I memorize the curve of her lower lip, how she sighs when I tug it gently between my teeth, and the small sounds she makes when our tongues meet.

Her fingers thread through my hair with tender curiosity. I mirror her movements, learning the contours of her face and the softness of her skin under my calloused fingertips. For once, I’m not calculating my next move or planning three steps ahead. I’m simply... here, present in this moment.

It’s terrifying. Exhilarating.

“Is this real?” I murmur against her mouth, the question escaping before I can contain it.

“Yes,” she confesses against my lips. “It’s real.”

Two words. Simple. Direct. Yet they crash through my system like a virus I have no defense against. My fingers tighten against her skin, suddenly afraid she’ll vanish if I don’t hold on.

Her admission rattles something loose inside me. Something I’ve kept locked down tight since that first night in the internet café—the understanding that control is safety, that deviation means danger.

I’m so far off-script right now, I can’t even see the original code. None of this was in my plan. Kira wasn’t supposed to kiss me. She wasn’t supposed to look at me with those eyes—not vacant, not terrified, but curious. Searching. She wasn’t supposed to touch me with gentle fingers that burned my skin in ways my punishments never could.

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