Infinite Touch: One
Copyright© 2026 by Veiled One
Chapter 5
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 5 - He isn't meant to be touched. She isn't meant to want him. A quiet night, A touch breaks the rules no one dares to name. A girl, drawn by a pull she doesn't understand and doesn't resist, unleashes something the world wanted buried. As paths revealed, collide, desire blurs into danger. Blood flows, romance turns sharp. Loyalty fractures. Secrets surface. Some connections aren't forbidden because they're wrong, but because they change everything.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft mt/Fa Teenagers Consensual Reluctant Romantic Heterosexual Crime High Fantasy Mystery Science Fiction Extra Sensory Perception Magic Cheating MaleDom First Oral Sex Petting Size Slow Violence
Aftermath
Bejen- Warehouse
They moved through the streets slowly.
For the first time in a long while, the town seemed unusually calm, almost unnaturally so. Natlin and Balic observed this too, sharing subtle glances as if trying to recall when it had last felt this peaceful.
Inside the building, Zarius paused. The floor was spotless. Something pulled at him.
Natlin noticed his expression and placed a hand on his arm, rubbing lightly. He turned to her. She smiled, small, reassuring.
He nodded back.
“Is there something called Kaola fruit?” Zarius asked suddenly, scanning the space.
The others stared at him.
“What?” he asked.
“It’s rare,” Balic said. “Costly. You won’t find it here.”
“Oh,” Zarius said calmly. “They said it’s here.”
“They?” Glenis echoed.
“You’ll see,” Balic muttered.
Zarius approached the forest’s edge and crouched down. Moments later, the squirrels appeared, squealing softly.
Glenis froze. “What the...”
“I’m okay,” Zarius said gently, turning back to them. “They’re okay too.”
His voice dimmed. “I’m sorry for your loss. It’s my fault.”
Glenis blinked. “Is he ... talking to them?”
Balic nodded once.
The leader squeaked, and a smaller squirrel with dull eyes stepped forward.
“Oh,” Zarius murmured, rubbing its head. “I’m sorry.”
Natlin knelt instinctively, doing the same. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Her parents died protecting her,” Zarius translated quietly. “From an energy shot.”
Natlin’s breath caught.
“She says she’s glad the others are safe now, with their pack, children with their families,” he added softly.
The leader squeaked once more, this time more brightly.
“Yes,” Zarius said with a chuckle as he stood. “I remember our deal. We couldn’t find it.”
The squirrels excitedly chattered and darted forward to the far corner of the building, then stopped, pointing insistently.
“Is it?” Zarius murmured.
He shifted crates aside with ease, muscles rippling beneath his skin. Natlin’s gaze stayed a moment longer than she intended.
Two sealed crates remained.
“Wait,” he said. Opening a crate, he cracked one carton open. The scent hit them instantly.
Zarius chuckled and pulled out four pale-blue fruits, round and glowing faintly. Small in his hands.
He handed one to Balic, another to Glenis. Then he extended one toward Natlin. She hesitated before taking it, biting softly. Her eyes widened.
Zarius placed another in her hand without a word. Behind them, the squirrels munched eagerly.
“Take the rest,” Zarius said, setting the crate down. “Deal’s done.”
The leader nodded, chewing.
“One more thing,” Zarius said, crouching again. “I will give you more if you do as I say,” the leader nodded immediately. “You know the men here.”
They nodded.
“Find them. Tell your friends. If anyone even resembles them, come tell us.” He pointed toward the school. “We’ll be at the school”.
The leader squeaked, then hesitated.
“Okay,” Zarius said, understanding. “I’ll help.”
He grabbed another carton and followed the squirrel to the forest edge. In one smooth motion, he leapt, climbed, and disappeared into the branches.
Glenis exhaled. “Is he even human?”
Balic shrugged. Natlin stared into the dark. Zarius returned moments later, the leader beside him.
“Remember the deal,” he said. “And watch out for my friends in this town.”
The squirrel nodded and vanished.
“Let’s go,” Zarius said.
“Wait,” Natlin said, pointing at the crates. “The kids will love this.”
Balic nodded. “We should take them.”
“How?” Zarius asked.
Glenis grinned. “Hook them behind your bike.”
Zarius raised a brow. “Really?”
Glenis nodded.
“Okay.”
They loaded the crates, twenty-five cartons per stack, minus two, and secured them behind the bike. Slowly and carefully, they moved them to the school building.
By the time they arrived in the basement, it was almost three in the morning. Exhaustion took over, and for now, the town was asleep.
Sleep eluded Zarius. He left the basement and rested on the ground at the forest’s edge, hands behind his head, staring up at the twin moons.
Minutes passed. Then he sensed her.
Natlin couldn’t sleep. Her body lay still, but her mind refused to settle, circling the same moments over and over, recalling everything that had shifted in a single day, after him.
The night before surfaced uninvited. She had been wandering down the roads, letting habit guide her steps. Searching for something worth stealing. Supplies were running low, and the gang had become wary of her recently.
The ghost, they called her. She preferred it that way. She found nothing. Then she stopped. Not because she chose to. Because something pulled.
It wasn’t physical at first, just a sudden pressure behind her chest, sharp enough to take her breath away. Her Node reacted instantly, its rhythm faltering, beating too fast and uneven. It hurt in a way she wasn’t used to.
“What...” she whispered. Her feet moved, neither hurried nor panicked, but steady.
Step by step, she was drawn toward the edge of town, the entrance. Her Node throbbed more intensely with each step, as if recognising something before she did.
Then she saw him enter the town.
He stood out immediately, too tall, too solid, moving as if the street belonged to him even as it swallowed him. He appeared worn, not careless. Haggard, but in a way that only sharpened his presence. The kind of exhaustion that makes a man dangerous, not weak.
He kept going without slowing down. He didn’t look around the alleys or pretend to be cautious. She thought he was naïve or arrogant.
She looked down at his hand, noticing a chain and a ring, too delicate, too costly, and mismatched for him. It seemed more like something a girl would wear, she thought.
His face was undeniably handsome but dull. His eyes were red, not bloodshot or weary, hollow as if he’d seen more than he should have. She started following him.
He stepped into the shell of an abandoned house and instantly lay down on the bare floor, no scan, no hesitation.
She watched longer than she intended. Then she left, unwillingly. She marked the spot for the next night.
After that, her node wouldn’t settle. It hadn’t changed, and she was sure of that. She hid it well, especially when near him, when he was close enough to feel the weight of his presence without actually touching it.
But it reacted the same way as before, his looks, his tone when she was near Arnon, too even, too controlled. That brief smile. Her Node tightened.
Her thoughts returned to the present. She stood suddenly and stepped outside. She didn’t know how she knew; she just did. He was out there. She moved quietly, instinctively.
She saw him lying there and paused to watch. He didn’t turn; he already knew. She stopped beside him and looked down. He finally shifted his gaze to her, his red eyes steady and unreadable.
She sat too close. Neither of them moved away. She placed a fruit in his hand. He took a bite and nodded once. She watched his face, noting the scars behind his eyes.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he said at last.
The words hung heavily in the air. She nodded, refusing to look away. He stared back at the moons.
“Who is she?” Natlin asked softly. He followed her gaze to the chain on his wrist.
“I ... I don’t know,” he said after a moment. “I left her in a town.”
“Regret?” she asked, fingers brushing the metal.
“She has someone else,” he replied, searching her face.
Something tightened in her chest, but she didn’t pull her hand back.
She said quietly, “We thought he was dead when he didn’t come back.” There was a pause before she added, “So, we moved on.”
Silence stretched.
Her hand rested on his chest, feeling the slow, powerful rise and fall beneath her palm.
“He’s hiding something,” Zarius said finally, not looking at her.
“I know,” Natlin replied. “I just hope he isn’t like them.”
“For the children’s sake,” she added softly.
His chest shifted under her touch. He nodded. A strange feeling ran through her. A sound rustled from the trees. She pulled her hand back instinctively, but he didn’t react, his eyes still fixed on her.
The small squirrel, who had lost her parents, stepped out and climbed onto his chest, squeaking.
Zarius touched her gently. “Okay. Thank you.”
Natlin watched, surprised.
“There are two men in the forest, hiding,” Zarius said, eyes still on Natlin. “And one dangerous one escaped. That man, I think.”
Natlin nodded once. The squirrel squeaked again.
Zarius didn’t glance at it this time, his eyes fixed on Natlin. “Yes. She’s beautiful,” he said softly. “No. She isn’t my mate.”
Natlin’s breath caught. The squirrel tilted its head, then nodded.
“What are you doing with a squirrel?”
All three jumped.
Trista stood there, wide-eyed. She scooped up the squirrel before anyone could stop her. Even Zarius was startled, too focused on Natlin to sense her approach in time.
Natlin tried to stand. A hand grasped her waist. She froze. Zarius didn’t look at her, his attention fixed on Trista, but he didn’t remove his hand either.
“Trista,” Natlin said carefully. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I woke up feeling sad,” Trista said simply. “I went looking for you, then I knew you were here.”
Natlin blinked. “You knew?”
Trista shrugged. “Yeah. Both of you.”
Natlin mouthed both? Toward Zarius. He said nothing.
“Can I keep her?” Trista asked, hugging the squirrel.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Natlin looked at Zarius. He nodded.
“Not tonight,” he said, sitting up. “Tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Trista said immediately, placing the squirrel down.
The squirrel squeaked at Zarius, who nodded and darted back into the trees.
“I want a pet too,” Tristan’s voice floated from the dark. “But not a squirrel.”
Zarius laughed quietly. Natlin groaned and rubbed her face.
The night breathed around them, uneasy, charged, unfinished.
Town Wavin-Forest
Lija woke with a sharp gasp. Her eyes snapped open, and breath tore from her chest as her Node throbbed violently, tightening, constricting, with pain piercing through her ribs. She clutched her chest and sat up abruptly.
The wooden cabin, with its familiar walls and the stillness, made her swallow hard, and she forced air into her lungs.
It had become a routine now: training in the forest, returning here, spending time with Rody, then heading back to town. Today was no different. She trained until exhaustion seeped into her bones, collapsed onto the bed ... and then,
Something. She extended her senses, but found nothing. Her hand moved to her throat, fingers trembling. Then, why does it hurt?
She stood and paced the small space, her legs weak, her body drained but otherwise unharmed. The pain made no sense, a warning without a signal.
Her thoughts twisted, inevitably, to him. Zarius. Is he in danger? The idea hit her hard enough to stop her mid-step. She shook her head. How would I even know?
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the pressure eased. Her Node slowed, settling back into its familiar rhythm.
She exhaled shakily.
“What was that?” she whispered.
Her watch chimed, and Danson’s holo-image flickered on. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh.
The Academy
Velina stood by her bed, fixing her hair in the mirror, ready to go to sleep.
Her Node suddenly flared. The reflection caught it first, with light pulsing beneath her dress. She gasped as the sensation followed, a tight, unfamiliar pressure gripping her chest.
Not again. It had been nearly a week since it started, since she’d left that town, since him. The surges had been subtle, manageable, elevated cycles, brief spikes.
But this, this felt wrong. Familiar. Her eyes widened. Is he here?
She reached out immediately, extending her senses beyond the room and past the academy walls. Nothing. The pulse faltered, then stilled. Her Node dimmed, returning to normal as if nothing had happened.
Velina sank onto the bed, fingers curling into the sheets.
“What was that?” she murmured.
And more importantly, where are you? She lay back, staring at the ceiling, sleep suddenly far away.
Red ghost
Bejen-Old School