The rain drummed a gentle, hypnotic rhythm against the wooden roof of the farmhouse. It was a sound Rowan had never truly appreciated in his previous life—a life of concrete, neon lights, and exhaustion.
Here, in the Whispering Glade, the rain sounded like a lullaby.
Rowan sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His body felt heavy, not with fatigue, but with a strange, buzzing energy. The Nurturing Touch & Harvest System was humming beneath his skin, demanding release, demanding connection.
He looked down. The quilt could barely contain the 'iron-hard length' that greeted him every morning. It was a testament to the vitality of this new body, a throbbing pillar of heat that ached for a soothing touch.
"Calm down," he whispered to himself, swinging his legs out of bed. The floorboards creaked softly under his weight, a familiar, homey sound that signaled the start of another day.
He walked to the window. Outside, the crops were drinking in the rain. The emerald stalks of the Moon-Corn swayed in the wind. They were healthy, but Rowan knew they could be better. They needed his 'essence'. They needed the energy he generated through intimacy.
A sweet, humid scent drifted through the cracks of the door. Lavender. Soap. And something muskier—the scent of warm skin.
Rowan followed the smell down the hallway, past the quiet rooms of his sisters, toward the back of the house where the washroom was located.
The washroom was filled with steam. Large wooden tubs were lined up against the wall, filled with hot water and frothy bubbles.
In the center of the haze stood Aunt Seraphina.
She was bent over a washboard, her rhythmic movements causing the water to slosh and splash. She wore a simple linen dress, but the humidity had done its work. The fabric clung to her mature curves like a second skin, turning translucent in the damp air.
Rowan froze in the doorway, his breath catching in his throat.
From this angle, he could see the heavy sway of her 'soft peaks' as she scrubbed. Her hair, usually pinned up in a strict bun, had come loose, sticking to the nape of her neck in wet, inviting tendrils.
She was the picture of a dutiful housewife, yet the scene was undeniably erotic.
"Auntie?" Rowan called out softly, not wanting to startle her.
Seraphina jumped slightly, a gasp escaping her lips. She turned, her cheeks flushed a deep crimson—whether from the steam or something else, Rowan couldn't tell.
"Rowan! Goodness, you frightened me," she breathed, placing a soapy hand over her chest. The motion drew his eyes to the deep valley between her 'heavy fruits', glistening with droplets of sweat.
"I didn't mean to," Rowan stepped into the room, the heat instantly wrapping around him. "Why are you doing laundry so early? And in this humidity?"
Seraphina sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "The sheets needed washing. And... well, I couldn't sleep. The storm last night..."
She trailed off, her eyes darting to his waist. Even through his trousers, the outline of his 'searing heat' was visible. Her gaze lingered for a second too long before snapping back to his face.
"You look... energetic this morning," she murmured, her voice dropping an octave.
Rowan moved closer. The air between them thickened, charged with the static of the Forbidden. She was his aunt. She was a widow who had mourned for years. But the System showed him the truth.
Above her head, a faint, translucent meter floated: [Thirst: 85%].
She wasn't just thirsty for water. She was parched for affection, dried out by years of sleeping alone.
"Let me help," Rowan said, rolling up his sleeves.
"Oh, no, these are heavy..."
"I insist."
He stepped up beside her. The tub was small. To work together, they had to stand close. Shoulders brushed. Hips bumped.
Rowan plunged his hands into the hot, soapy water. His fingers brushed against hers beneath the suds.
A jolt of electricity shot through him. Seraphina flinched, but she didn't pull away.
"Your hands..." she whispered, staring at the water. "They are so hot, Rowan. Even in this scalding water, I can feel your heat."
"Is it unpleasant?" he asked, his voice rough.
"No," she breathed. "It feels... filling."
They fell into a rhythm. Scrubbing the heavy sheets, their bodies moved in sync. With every push against the washboard, her arm pressed against his chest. With every pull, her hip grazed the front of his trousers.
The friction was maddening. Rowan's 'throbbing pillar' twitched, demanding attention. He shifted his stance, trying to hide it, but the movement only pressed him closer to her flank.
Seraphina paused. Her hands stopped moving in the water. She didn't look up.
"Rowan," she said, her voice trembling. "You're pressing against me."
"I'm sorry, Auntie. The space is tight."
"I didn't say stop."
The words hung in the steamy air, heavy and intoxicating.
Slowly, deliberately, Seraphina turned to face him. Her hands were still submerged in the soapy water. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, vulnerable, and hazy with need.
"It's been so long since a man stood this close to me," she confessed, her guard crumbling. "Since your uncle passed... I've felt like a dried leaf. Brittle. Empty."
Rowan reached out, his wet hand cupping her cheek. Her skin was incredibly soft, slick with steam and sweat.
"You aren't brittle, Seraphina," he said, dropping the honorific. "You are beautiful. You're blooming."
A whimper escaped her throat. She leaned into his touch, nuzzling his palm.
"Help me, Rowan," she whispered. "I'm so dry. Make me feel... alive again."
Rowan didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, closing the gap completely. His 'hardened steel' pressed firmly against her stomach, separated only by thin, wet layers of linen.
She gasped, her head falling back, exposing the creamy expanse of her throat.
"So big..." she moaned. "Is this what the farm food does to you?"
"It's what you do to me," Rowan growled.
He moved his hands down her back, tracing the curve of her spine, stopping just above the swell of her hips. She was trembling in his arms, her body responding to his proximity like a flower turning toward the sun.
"I shouldn't," she panted, her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "I'm your aunt. It's wrong."
"Does it feel wrong?" Rowan asked, grinding his hips forward slowly, a primal rhythm taking over.
Seraphina bit her lip, suppressing a moan. Her hands slid down his chest, over his stomach, until they hovered just above his belt.
"No," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It feels like... rain after a drought."
Her hands, slick with warm soap, slipped beneath the waistband of his trousers.
When her fingers wrapped around his 'searing heat', Rowan hissed, his head spinning. Her touch was tentative at first, shy, but the moment she felt the pulse of his life force, her grip tightened.
"Oh my," she murmured, looking down. "It's magnificent."
She didn't need instruction. Instinct, dormant for years, took over. She began to move her hand, the soapy water acting as the perfect lubricant. Up and down, slow and worshipful.
Rowan braced himself against the edge of the wooden tub. The sensation was overwhelming—the heat of the water, the scent of lavender, and the forbidden touch of his aunt's hand stroking his 'throbbing desire'.
"Auntie..." he groaned, his hips snapping forward to meet her rhythm.
"That's it," she cooed, watching his face with hungry eyes. "Give it to me, Rowan. Let it flow. I need to see it."
She picked up the pace. Her other hand crept around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It wasn't a chaste peck. She devoured his mouth, her tongue dancing with his, tasting him, drinking in his breath.
The pleasure built rapidly, a tidal wave of sensation. The System flashed in his mind: [Vitality Exchange Imminent].
"I'm close," Rowan warned, breaking the kiss to gasp for air.
"Good," Seraphina panted, her hand moving faster, milking the 'iron-hard length' with desperate eagerness. "Fill my hands. Don't hold back a single drop."
With a final, guttural groan, Rowan released.
A torrent of 'hot lava' erupted, mixing with the soapy suds in her hand. It was copious, thick, and potent—the concentrated essence of his cheat ability.
Seraphina watched the 'milky release' spill over her fingers with fascination. She didn't wash it away. Instead, she brought her hand to her face, inhaling the scent deeply, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy.
[System Alert: High-Grade Vitality Absorbed by Partner 'Seraphina'.]
[Reward: Aunt's 'Moisture' Level Restored. Crop Growth Speed +10% for 24 Hours.]
The silence returned to the washroom, save for their heavy breathing.
Seraphina slumped against him, her legs weak. Rowan held her close, stroking her damp hair. The tension in her body had vanished, replaced by a boneless, melting relaxation.
"Thank you," she whispered into his chest, smearing the mixture of soap and 'life essence' onto his skin as if it were a sacred oil. "I feel... watered."
She looked up at him, a mischievous, youthful glint returning to her eyes. She traced a circle around his navel with her finger.
"But now... my dress is all wet again," she said softly, tugging at the soaked fabric that clung to her 'wet sanctuary' below. "And the water in the tub is getting cold."
Rowan smirked, feeling his 'searing heat' twitch, already recovering its strength.
"We should probably warm you up then," he suggested.
Seraphina bit her lip, glancing toward the door, then back at the large, inviting wooden tub.
"The door has a lock," she whispered.
Question for the Reader - 👇👇👇
Aunt Seraphina has tasted the first drop of rain, but the storm is just beginning.
For the next chapter, how should they "warm up" in the bath?
A) The "Sponge" Treatment: She asks Rowan to clean her 'hidden valley' using only a soft sponge and his fingers.
B) The "Floating" Lesson: She claims she forgot how to float, requiring Rowan to support her body... leading to a 'friction' focused bath.
Comment your choice below!