Incubus Living In A World Of Superpower Users-Chapter 291: I’m Here
Not because they had to, or even wanted to.
Because they were choosing him.
And maybe that was the difference.
The whole difference.
For a moment, the world beyond the room didn’t exist. No cities. No demands. No exams or monsters or cults. Nothing is trying to pull him apart or make him prove something.
It was just him, the twins, and the quiet beat of a heart that didn’t feel burdened anymore.
"I’m here," he whispered, the words barely above breath, as if he spoke them too loudly, they’d float away.
Evelyn answered first, her voice quieter than the breeze coming in through the window, but more solid than anything he’d heard all day.
"We are, too."
A beat.
A pause.
Like a song before it swells, that still second where you can feel something real coming.
"Don’t worry," Everly added, her fingers brushing lightly across his chest. "We’re not going anywhere."
His eyes closed again.
Not to escape.
Just to let it settle.
"That’s right," he said. Not dramatic. Just honest. The kind of thank you you don’t say out of politeness, but because it aches in your chest if you don’t let it out.
His body still felt tired.
But the weight wasn’t there anymore.
Instead, something else had filled that space.
Something warmer.
Something quieter.
The silence that returned wasn’t hollow or uncomfortable. It didn’t stretch awkwardly or beg to be filled. It was whole.
Shared. The kind of silence you only get with people who know how to hold space, not just for themselves, but for each other.
Eventually, they moved.
Not quickly. Not in response to anything.
It was just time.
Their limbs shifted, the rhythm of their closeness unfolding like the tide rolling in—soft, consistent, without edges.
No one gave orders.
No one asked what to do.
They simply... fit.
Not like puzzle pieces. That was too rigid.
More like gravity.
Like warmth drifting toward warmth.
Ethan leaned back fully, head against the soft pillow, the feel of the bed beneath him grounding, but light.
Evelyn’s hand found his jaw, a slow trace down to his neck, not teasing, not claiming. Just there. Real.
Everly’s palms spread across his chest, warm and sure, her touch steady and calm, moving in long lines—not searching, but remembering.
They had touched before. Hugged. Held. Sat close for hours.
But this was different.
The space between touch and closeness had vanished, not suddenly, but gradually, like light rising over water.
The breeze slipped in through the open window again, brushing over bare skin. It gave me goosebumps and a little shiver, but none of them pulled away.
If anything, they leaned closer.
Hands moved gently. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚
Clothing shifted.
There was no rush.
No grab, force, or frantic pulling.
Just quiet hands unbuttoning, lifting, easing fabric aside, letting the layers fall like petals from something that had already bloomed.
They didn’t undress like lovers trying to impress.
They undressed like people who had finally reached a space where nothing had to be hidden anymore.
The kind of undressing that meant I see you, not I want something from you.
And beneath the layers, there was only skin.
Warm skin, soft gasps, shared heat.
Ethan didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
He just let himself feel—her hand at his shoulder, her leg sliding against his, her breath near his ear, steady and warm.
The rhythm was slow.
And that was enough.
They weren’t chasing anything. They weren’t trying to cross a finish line.
They were just staying.
The soft glow of the bedside light brushed their skin in amber.
Their silhouettes blurred against each other, fingers trailing paths that felt more like memory than motion.
Every touch was deliberate, but never demanding.
Ethan didn’t move to take control.
He didn’t need to.
He was already part of something—something shared, unspoken, equal.
And in that stillness, when their bodies pressed together, when breath met breath, and fingers curled in instinct more than thought, there was no confusion.
Only ease.
Trust.
Not the loud kind.
The kind that says, I’m not afraid to be here.
Their mouths met—soft, exploratory, slow. A kiss that wasn’t chasing a reaction. Just offering presence.
Evelyn’s lips moved with grace, quiet but unyielding. Her body closed against his like a second heartbeat.
Everly’s breath warmed the side of his neck, her hand still resting at his chest, fingertips moving in small, soothing circles.
And for a long time, that was it.
No words.
Just skin against skin.
Just time unfolding, slow and unmeasured.
Their bodies weren’t tangled. They weren’t rushed.
They just moved.
Like they’d always known how.
Ethan let his hands move along Evelyn’s back, over Everly’s waist, not greedy, not nervous, just there, as if reminding himself they were real.
He could feel their pulse, hear the tiny shifts in their breathing, taste the quiet resolve in every press of their bodies.
And still, no one said more. No one needed to.
Because more was already happening.
Without a single word.
The night stretched outside, stars watching from behind clouded glass, but no one in that room cared.
They were together.
That was all.
And it wasn’t about lust.
It wasn’t even about need.
It was about the moment.
About being seen and still accepted.
About opening your chest and not having anyone flinch at what’s inside.
Their movements slowed again—not because anything ended, but because nothing needed to be proven.
It was enough.
To breathe like this.
To touch like this.
To exist like this.
Eventually, they would sleep.
Or maybe not.
But that didn’t matter.
Because as their limbs settled, and their hands stilled, and their eyes stayed open just long enough to memorize the curve of a shoulder, the shape of a cheek, the softness of breath—
They knew.
This wasn’t the beginning of something wild.
It was the return to something true.
And as Ethan lay there, his arms gently holding them both, their bodies resting against his like they’d always belonged, the thought crossed his mind—not as a fear, not even a question, but as a quiet certainty.
