CHAPTER 32: CURING ELENA [1] [R-18 CONTENTS!]

"I have to have sex with you," I said, the words coming out in a rush before I could lose my courage entirely.

Elena froze completely when I said that.

Her entire body went rigid, and I could practically see her brain struggling to process what she’d just heard. The color drained from her face as she took several unsteady steps backward, putting distance between us as if my words had physically struck her.

"W...what..." She muttered, shock rendering her nearly speechless.

I forced myself to maintain eye contact, knowing that if I looked away now, she’d think I was lying or trying to manipulate her. "We have to have sexual intercourse so I can cure you," I repeated, keeping my expression as serious and sincere as possible despite the heat burning in my cheeks.

"No... no..." Elena’s face somehow managed to become even paler, and I could see the mix of shock and embarrassment warring in her expression. Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her chest, as if trying to protect herself from the very idea.

"I’m not joking or trying to take advantage of you, Elena. I swear on everything sacred, on my dead mother—this is the only way I can cure you," I said, desperation creeping into my voice. I wanted to tell her about Rachel, about how I’d already proven this method worked, but I couldn’t reveal that without Rachel’s permission. That was her secret to share or keep.

"This can’t be real..." Elena muttered, clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles went white. "This is insane. This is..."

"I’m sorry," I interrupted. "And I won’t force you—I would never do that. But otherwise, you’ll have to cut off your hand before the infection spreads, and I’m not even sure that will work. Even if it does, I don’t know if you’ll be capable of surviving the trip back to the library with that kind of blood loss." I reached for the knife on the floor and extended it toward her, handle first. "But either way, I’m not going to stand here and watch you transform into one of those monsters. If you don’t want to try my method, then we should really amputate your hand now, Elena."

Elena stared at the knife in my outstretched hand as if it were a venomous snake. Her breathing had become shallow and rapid, and I could see her mind racing through the impossible choice I’d just presented her with.

She reached out with a trembling hand, her fingers wrapping around the handle with obvious reluctance. The blade caught the light, and despite my attempts to clean it earlier, there were still red stains along the metal.

"You should make your decision quickly," I said, hating myself for pressuring her but knowing we might not have much time. "I’ll try to be fast and quick. It will be painful, but..."

"W...we are talking about cutting my hand, right?!" Elena suddenly burst out, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as the implications of my words hit her.

When I realized how my statement about being "fast and precise" could be interpreted in the context of our previous conversation, I felt my own face burning with embarrassment.

"O...of course I was talking about the amputation!" I replied, flustered and stumbling over the words.

Elena turned her gaze back to the knife, studying the bloodstained blade as if it might hold some answer to her impossible dilemma.

"Y...you’re not lying to me about this, are you?" She asked, still looking at the weapon rather than meeting my eyes. "About this being the only method, and about the fact that you can actually cure me..."

Even though she had witnessed me stop time—had seen something that defied every natural law she understood—she was still struggling to believe that I could cure a zombie bite through sexual contact. I couldn’t blame her for doubting. It sounded absolutely insane even to me, and I was the one with the supernatural abilities.

But it had worked with Emily, and it had worked with Rachel. I was as confident as I could be under the circumstances.

I looked at her with all the sincerity I could muster, trying to pour every ounce of honesty into my voice. "I’m not lying. I swear to you on everything I hold dear. I’m not that kind of man—I would never use a situation like this to take advantage of someone."

Elena fell silent at my words, her expression cycling through what seemed like a dozen different emotions in the span of seconds. Fear, hope, desperation, embarrassment, and something else I couldn’t quite identify all flickered across her features as she weighed her options.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she set the knife aside on a nearby chair.

"O..okay," she stuttered, the word barely escaping her lips.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?" I asked, needing to hear her confirm it one more time. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel pressured or coerced into something she wasn’t truly willing to do.

She nodded, though her entire body was trembling and her face was completely flushed with embarrassment. "I... I don’t want to die. And I definitely don’t want to become one of those things."

"Okay," I nodded. "We should start soon. I don’t know how long the curing process takes, and we need to make sure we have enough time."

She nodded again but remained frozen in place like a statue, clearly having no idea what to do next. Her inexperience was obvious—not just with this supernatural situation, but with intimate contact in general.

I looked around the small office space, trying to find the most appropriate place for what we needed to do. The floor was covered in debris, broken glass, and blood stains that I didn’t want to think about too closely. That left the furniture.

I walked toward the largest desk in the room, a heavy wooden piece that looked sturdy enough to support our weight. The surface was cluttered with the detritus of whatever chaos had erupted when the outbreak began—scattered papers, overturned coffee cups, a computer monitor that had been knocked over, various office supplies that had been scattered in someone’s desperate flight.

I swept my arm across the desk, clearing everything off in one motion. Papers fluttered to the floor, pens scattered, and the computer monitor hit the ground with a dull thud that seemed unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

When I was finished, the rectangular wooden surface was clear and ready. It would have to do—I’d managed to do Emily in a smaller table after all.

"Here." I placed my hand firmly on the edge of the table as I met Elena’s eyes.

She froze, gaze flicking from my hand to the table, then back to me. Her entire body trembled, her breath visibly catching in her chest. A deep flush crept up her neck, blooming over her cheeks like wildfire, and her hands fidgeted at her sides as if unsure whether to run or reach for something to steady herself.

"Elena..." I called her.

"I... I know!" She let out, her voice choked with nerves, almost tearful. She stepped hesitantly closer to the table, each step unsteady, driven by something beyond fear—something deeper. "Now?"

"Yes. Sit on the table," I said.

Her movements were stiff, almost mechanical, as she obeyed. She perched on the edge, legs tight together, shoulders curled slightly inward. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor, lashes lowered, fists clenched tightly in her lap as though holding herself together.

"You don’t have to do anything," I told her, stepping closer, my hand brushing lightly over her clenched fists, trying to ease their tension. "You don’t have to look, or touch, or move. I’ll do everything... Just lie back for me."

Her chest rose sharply with a breath, but after a long pause, she nodded once. Then, with effort, Elena reclined slowly on the table, the wooden surface cool against her back, her breathing shallow and quick. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the swell of her breasts under her shirt visibly heaving, each breath catching in her throat.

I paused, swallowing the knot rising in my own throat, trying to find the words for what came next.

"Right... I need you to take off your underwear," I said awkwardly, my voice cracking slightly at the edges. "So I can... do it."

Elena’s entire body jerked in a shiver at my words. Her face turned even redder, and she gave a small nod, her fingers trembling as they reached beneath the hem of her skirt. Slowly, hesitantly, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties.

Light blue. The delicate fabric caught on her thighs as she tugged them downward, her breathing stuttering. She didn’t look at me—not even once—as she slid them down one leg and then the other, finally letting the panties drop silently to the floor beside the table. Then, wordlessly, she lay back again, her legs pressed tightly together, her hands clutching at the edge of the table, knuckles white.

I watched her, sensing every tiny tremble in her limbs, every breath she held back.

When I felt she was ready, I stepped between her knees and placed my hands gently on her thighs, her skin warm and slightly damp under my palms.

"W..wait!" she gasped, lifting her head quickly. Her eyes were wide and glistening. "I... I don’t think I’m ready. I need... I need more time..."

"Elena." I locked eyes with her seriously. "I’m going to cure you. This is the only way to stop the transformation. Just think of that....think only of that. Trust me."

She bit her lip, her gaze fixed on mine, searching for something in my face—reassurance, certainty, safety. She swallowed hard and, after a long, silent moment, she slowly lowered her head back down, her body still trembling beneath my hands.

I exhaled slowly and slid my hands again up her thighs. Her skin was soft and hot to the touch, slick with a fine sheen of sweat. My fingertips traced slow, measured lines up along the inside of her thighs, pressing gently, feeling the way her muscles twitched under the contact.

"Mmn..." Elena let out a muffled, almost surprised sound—part gasp, part whimper—as I brushed closer to the juncture of her thighs. Her legs parted slightly on instinct, her breath hitching, and I took the opportunity to lift her skirt, revealing her fully.

I froze for a moment, eyes fixed on her—mesmerized. Her pussy, slightly flushed, the lips already parted faintly, glistened under the low light. It was delicate, almost shy, and yet breathtaking. I couldn’t help but stare, captivated by it.

It was different from Emily’s and Rachel’s but all three were truly beautiful.

I swallowed, heat pooling low in my gut, but I kept my voice level.

"Are... are you done?" Elena whispered.

I looked up, catching her gaze. "Do you know what sex actually involves, Elena?" I asked, unable to hide my disbelief.

"J..just do it already!" She blurted, turning her face away, her cheeks burning red.

I breathed out slowly. "Not yet. I can’t just enter you without preparing you first. It would hurt too much. You’re not ready."

I hesitated, watching her. My fingers could do it, but for a first time—for her—I knew what she needed most.

"I need to get you wet," I murmured, stepping closer. "The right way."

She turned sharply, eyes wide. "Wh...what do you mean—what are you—?!"

I didn’t answer. I knelt between her legs, already catching the faint scent of her—something intoxicating, a mixture of sweat and something softer, muskier. The heat of her body pulsed against my face, and I could feel the tension in her thighs.

I leaned in.

Her breath caught sharply. "W...wait! That’s—"

My tongue flicked out, slowly dragging over her folds.

"Hyaaah!" Elena cried out, her body jolting upward, hands flying to her face as if to hide from the sudden jolt of sensation. She raised her face and stared down at me in shock, eyes wide, her mouth open in disbelief. "Wh...what are you doing?!" She stammered out in shock.

I met her gaze, lips wet with her taste, breathing slowly. "Making you wet. Otherwise, Elena, it’s going to hurt. A lot."

Her eyes darted away, face burning, her hands clenching again at the edge of the table. Her legs trembled on either side of me.

"But... licking me there... that’s... th...that’s too embarrassing!" She protested weakly, her body betraying her as it arched slightly toward my mouth, trembling with each breath.

I said nothing, just met her eyes briefly, then dipped my head again. My tongue slid slowly over her slit, dragging heat and wetness from her skin.

"Haa... n-no! I... I told you!" Elena’s hands flew to her face again, but her glare peeked out from behind splayed fingers, cheeks flushed crimson, eyes wide in indignation.

I looked up from between her legs, my hands resting lightly on her trembling thighs. "Do you want to get hurt that badly?" I asked quietly.

"N...no, but!" She protested, tears threatening at the corners of her eyes as her gaze darted away, lost in the tangle of her own thoughts. "This is... it’s weird and..."

"It’ll be fine," I said. My fingers traced light, soothing circles on her skin. "I’m just licking it."

"It’s not just...!" She choked out.

"Besides... you smell amazing." I smiled faintly, trying to ease her nerves, though I meant every word. That scent—faint sweat, her natural musk, her arousal—it pulled at me, urging me to dive in deeper.

Elena drew a sharp breath and then, with a soft, half-defeated noise, she let herself fall back onto the table with a dull thud, arms splaying slightly as if she’d collapsed under the weight of her embarrassment. "D...do it quick..." She mumbled, face turned to the side, neck flushed all the way down to the collarbone.

I didn’t hesitate. That was all I needed.