Yamato felt the blood rush to her ears. Her face, already flushed, turned burning red. Her eyes, which could barely tear themselves away from the previous scene, were now fixed on another sight: Vergil's member—still semi-erect and glistening with Crymsaria's fluids—resting against his thigh. It was the source of so much noise, so much pleasure, so much power. And he was offering it to her.
"And now," Vergil's voice echoed again—a little clearer, a hint of impatience mingling with curiosity—"do you want to try, Yamato?"
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry. Her whole body felt like a taut wire, ready to snap. Shame sat like a hot weight in her stomach, but beneath it, something new and insistent pulsed. That throbbing ache between her legs, the heat his observation had ignited... it hadn't faded. It had grown.
