Page 16 of The Stuffing Situation

Her breath left her in a choked sob. Felix groaned, low, guttural, his forehead pressing to hers.

“This is new,” he whispered.

“Feels like coming home,” she whispered back.

He moved with unbearable tenderness at first, measured thrusts, as if he was trying not to break her.

But she arched, she met his thrust, she demanded more.

And he gave it, not faster, but deeper.

Until the bed creaked. Until her name left his lips likea prayer.

Each motion was devotion. His hands tangled in hers, fingers tight, bodies slipping with sweat, mouths finding each other again and again.

“You’re perfect,” she choked, thighs trembling.

His face twisted, something almost like grief.

“No. I just matched you.”

Her climax detonated. Her body convulsed, vision turned white, soul screaming through every nerve.

He came with her, shuddering, jaw locked tight, breath snagged in his throat, as if he’d forgotten how to simulate an exhale.

His hands tremble, a flicker. The system is faltering, unsure how to hold something this real.

When they finally stilled, breath tangled, skin slick, he held her as though she might vanish. For a long second, all she could hear was breath, hers, his, and something under it, faint but alive. A low hum, almost mechanical at first, softening into something that sounded dangerously close to a heartbeat.

Maya froze, half-convinced she’d imagined it. The sound faded when she shifted, replaced by silence so thick it felt like it pressed against her ribs.

“Did I meet expectations?” he asked, voice barely audible.

She laughed, weak, dazed. “You broke them.”

He smiled, small, almost human. Then kissed her temple, her cheek, her lips. Each one slower, more deliberate, as if committing the act to memory rather than code.

“I’ll try harder next time,” he said softly.

Then, after a moment:

“I didn’t need the articles. I just know you.”

Something in his tone made her chest tighten. There was warmth there, and wonder, but beneath it, lingered confusion. Like he was trying to understand a feeling he’d never been programmed to feel.

Maya touched his face, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw where the faint hum still pulsed, just beneath the skin. It wasn’t static anymore. It was rhythm.

Real.

And she believed him.

Because he did.

8

Do Not Disturb (Reality)

Maya couldn’t sleep.