CHAPTER 124: RACHEL’S CONFESSION AND JASON CALLED

After the raw, pounding intensity of fucking Rachel from behind, her body still quivering beneath me like a conquered territory, I collapsed for a moment, my chest heaving against her sweat-slicked back. Our breaths mingled in the master bedroom, heavy and ragged, the air thick with the musky scent of sex—sweat, cum, and her sweet arousal clinging to everything. My cock was still buried deep in her pussy, twitching with the aftershocks, her inner walls clenching around me one last time as if reluctant to let go. She was face-down on the rumpled sheets, her ass cheeks flushed red from my gripping hands, the curve of her spine arching slightly in exhausted bliss.

"Hmm~" Rachel moaned softly, her cheek pressed into the pillow, voice muffled and drowsy as I finally pulled out. The sensation was obscene—my thick shaft sliding free with a wet, sucking pop, leaving her gaping pussy lips swollen and glistening. Immediately, my hot semen gushed out of her, a thick white river spilling from her stretched hole, dripping down between her parted thighs onto the bed. From my vantage behind her, I watched it all: the creamy load bubbling out, mixing with her own juices, soaking the fabric in a dark stain. Her pussy was a beautiful mess—puffy folds red from the friction, the red curls above matted with our combined fluids, clenching emptily now as if begging for more.

I drew in a sharp, cold breath, gasping at the sight, my cock jerking back to half-hardness despite the ache in my balls. Just seeing her like that—leaking my cum, vulnerable and spent—stirred something in me.

I felt like I could continue for a few more rounds. But no, I wouldn’t. Not tonight. Guilt gnawed at me already; I’d been rough at the end, slamming into her with a force that bordered on animalistic, my hips bruising her ass as I chased my release. She accepted it, moaned for it even but now, in the quiet aftermath, I wondered if I’d pushed too far.

"This...isn’t like me..." I muttered.

Even though sex and lust could change behaviour to some extent, this wasn’t like me at all.

Standing up on shaky legs, my muscles protesting the exertion, I grabbed a wad of tissues from my bag on the nightstand. First, I wiped my cock clean, stroking it gently to remove the sticky remnants of her cream and my seed. It twitched under my touch, semi-erect and sensitive, veins prominent along the shaft. Then, turning back to her, I couldn’t just leave her like that—her pussy exposed, cum trickling out in lazy rivulets, pooling between her thighs. Kneeling beside the bed, I parted her legs wider, exposing her fully. "Easy, Rachel," I murmured, though she was too far gone to respond coherently.

Rachel twitched and moaned as I dabbed at her pussy, the tissues soaking up the mess. "Mmm... ahh..." she whimpered, her hips shifting instinctively, half-asleep in the throes of post-orgasm haze. Her clit was still engorged, peeking out like a pearl, and every light brush of the tissue made her gasp—"Hnn... feels... good..."—her voice slurred with sleep and satisfaction. I took my time, wiping the outer lips first, then gently spreading them to clean deeper, careful not to irritate the tender flesh. More cum oozed out with each pass, and I couldn’t resist tracing a finger along her slit, feeling the slick warmth, dipping just inside to scoop out a bit more. She arched slightly, a soft "Ohh..." escaping her lips, her body responding even in slumber.

Once she was as clean as I could manage without waking her fully, I rummaged through the closet shelves and found a fresh sheet, crisp and white. Pulling it over her back and body, I tucked it around her curves letting her rest in peace. She sighed contentedly, burrowing deeper into the pillow, her breathing evening out into soft snores. I slipped on a pair of loose pants I found as well and lay beside her, propping myself on one elbow to stare at the ceiling.

I closed my eyes, exhaustion pulling me under, and it seemed like only minutes had passed when I stirred again—but no, the light seemed a bit brighter. A few hours must have slipped at least.

I glanced toward Rachel and saw that she was already awake, watching me with a soft smile that made her green eyes seem to glow in the gentle light coming through the opened windows. Her red hair was still slightly damp from our unexpected swim, spread across the pillow like spun copper, and her cheeks held a flush that spoke to the intimacy we’d just shared.

"You’re awake," I said softly.

"Just for a few minutes," she replied.

The silence stretched between us.

"Listen, Rachel," I began, feeling the need to address what I perceived as my own loss of control. "I think I may have gotten carried away near the end. I’m sorry if I was too—"

"I don’t mind it," she interrupted gently, her hand reaching out to touch my arm with reassuring warmth. "You don’t need to apologize for anything that happened."

"But still," I persisted, guilt gnawing at me despite her reassurance. "I should have been more careful, more considerate of—"

"Ryan," she called with an mused smile. "It felt different from what I expected, but it felt wonderful. More intense, more connected. And it’s not like I said no and you ignored me. You were attentive to how I was feeling the entire time."

I turned my gaze toward the ceiling, processing her words while trying to make sense of my own conflicted emotions. "Right..."

"And I know you would never hurt me willingly," Rachel continued, chuckling. "You’re not capable of that kind of cruelty, even in moments...like this."

This woman seemed too good for me, too understanding and accepting of complexities that would have driven most people away. The guilt I felt wasn’t just about our physical encounter—it was about the broader situation she was willingly entering, the emotional complications that came with my abilities and the relationships they necessitated.

"About my confession earlier..." I said carefully, turning back to meet her eyes with apprehension tightening my features.

Rachel’s expression grew more serious, but her smile remained gentle. "I love you too, Ryan. Completely and without reservation."

"But..." I started, knowing there had to be conditions, complications, reasonable objections to what she was saying.

"I know you have feelings for Sydney and Elena as well," she said, her voice steady despite the difficulty of the topic. "I’m not entirely sure about Cindy yet, but I suspect your connection with her goes deeper than you’ve admitted. And I think you might develop feelings for other women in the future. Your abilities make such emotional complications almost inevitable."

Her understanding was both a relief and a source of additional guilt. "Rachel, that’s not fair to you. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart, not someone who’s emotionally scattered across multiple relationships."

"Having repeated intimate contact with different people makes it nearly impossible to control your emotions," she continued, as if I hadn’t interrupted. "The physical connection leads to emotional attachment—it’s basic human psychology. I don’t blame you for developing feelings for the women you’ve had to cure and stabilize. And they all seem genuinely happy with you, so I have no right to judge the situation or demand exclusivity."

She paused, her fingers tracing patterns on the sheet as she gathered her thoughts. "But I really do love you, Ryan. Even knowing that you love other women, even understanding that I’ll be sharing you with them. So... I don’t mind being one of your many lovers, along with Sydney, Elena, and Cindy."

"You don’t?" I asked, my heartbeat quickening as I tried to process what she was saying. "You’re really okay with that kind of arrangement?"

Her face flushed with embarrassment, but she nodded. "Maybe morally it’s unconventional, but I can’t imagine being with any other man. After everything we’ve been through together, after the connection we’ve built... I’d rather share you with others than lose you entirely."

I turned my body toward her, bringing my face just inches from hers, close enough to see the sincerity in her eyes and the way her breathing had become slightly unsteady. "So... you’re my girlfriend now?" I asked, feeling a surge of joy and disbelief that I’d never experienced before.

Rachel’s eyes darted around nervously. But after a moment of internal debate, she nodded slowly. "Yes... "

I couldn’t contain the smile that spread across my face as I leaned in to kiss her lips, pouring all my gratitude, affection, and growing love into the contact.

"Hmm!" Rachel made a small sound of surprise at the kiss, but then melted into it, her arms wrapping around my neck as she pulled me closer.

The kiss was different from the passionate urgency we’d shared earlier. This was soft, tender, and pure—an expression of love rather than desire, a promise of commitment rather than just physical attraction. We lost ourselves in each other’s embrace, exchanging gentle touches and whispered endearments without any agenda beyond the simple joy of being together.

When we finally broke apart, Rachel’s eyes were bright with tears she was trying to hold back. "I never thought I’d be able to say those words to you," she whispered. "I’ve been carrying these feelings for a moment, watching you struggle with your responsibilities, wishing I could help carry some of your burden."

"You do help," I replied, brushing a strand of damp red hair from her face. "You’re the heart of our group, the one who keeps everyone together when things get difficult. I don’t know what any of us would do without you."

"But now I can help in other ways too," she said with a loving smile. "As someone who loves you completely, not just as whatever leader you are speaking about or housemate."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked one more time, needing to be absolutely certain she understood what she was signing up for. "The jealousy, the complications, the way other people will judge us if they find out?"

Rachel’s expression grew more serious. "I’m sure, Ryan. We’re living in a world where the old rules don’t apply anymore. We’re building new ways to survive, new ways to find happiness and meaning. If that means creating unconventional relationship structures based on genuine love and mutual respect, then that’s what we’ll do."

Sydney said something similiar as well.

She traced her fingers along my jaw. "Besides, I’ve seen how you care for Sydney, Elena, and Cindy. You don’t take anyone for granted, you don’t play favorites, and you genuinely want everyone to be happy. If I have to share you with other women, I’m glad they’re people I trust and respect."

"I love you, Rachel," I said, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "And I promise I’ll never take your trust for granted."

"I love you too," she replied, pulling me down for another kiss that tasted like hope and new beginnings.

Outside the abandoned house, the sun was climbing higher into the sky, and we knew we’d need to return to Jackson Township soon to deliver the frequency data to Mark. But for now, in this quiet moment of intimacy and newly declared love, the rest of the world could wait.

°°°

That same night - Municipal Office Building

Jason jolted awake in a cold sweat, his heart hammering against his ribs as if trying to escape his chest. The makeshift sleeping area arranged in one of the converted office rooms felt suffocating, the air thick with an oppressive weight that hadn’t been there when he’d gone to sleep hours earlier.

Something had woken him. A sound—no, not exactly a sound. More like a vibration that seemed to resonate directly through his skull, bypassing his ears entirely. He sat up on the thin mattress he’d salvaged from the building’s break room, wiping perspiration from his forehead with a trembling hand.

The sensation came again—a low, haunting call that seemed to whisper his name in frequencies just below human hearing. It wasn’t coming from inside the building. The pull was external, drawing his attention toward the darkened windows that faced east.

Jason... Jason... come...

He stood unsteadily, his bare feet finding the cold floor as he moved toward the window. The voice—if it could be called that—grew stronger, more insistent. It wasn’t threatening exactly, but it carried an authority that made resistance feel impossible.

Moving like a sleepwalker, Jason left his makeshift bedroom and padded silently through the corridors of the Municipal Office. The building was quiet except for the distant sounds of other survivors sleeping—soft breathing, the occasional rustle of bedding. None of them seemed to hear what was calling to him.

The main entrance stood before him, secured with multiple locks and barricades that the community had installed for nighttime protection. But his hands moved of their own accord, systematically removing each obstacle with mechanical precision. The locks turned easily under his fingers, the barricades sliding away.

Cool night air washed over him as he stepped outside, his bare feet making no sound on the concrete steps. The voice was clearer now, a melodious whisper that seemed to come from every shadow, every breath of wind.

Come to us, Jason. You are needed. You are chosen.

The defensive perimeter of abandoned cars that surrounded the Municipal Office building posed no obstacle. He moved between them like a ghost, his white pajama shirt catching the pale moonlight as he walked steadily eastward through the empty streets of Jackson Township.

Behind him, the Municipal Office grew smaller, its lights fading into the darkness.

Jason walked on through the night, drawn by a call that promised answers to questions he hadn’t known he was asking, his bare feet carrying him deeper into a darkness that welcomed him with open arms.

Until he stood in front of it.

He raised his gaze and saw the Radio Station in front of him.