The First Time: Part I (SFW)

Trigger Warning: Sensitive Content

Please be aware that the following narrative explores sensitive and potentially triggering themes, this includes discussions of past trauma, emotional distress, violence, and implied non-consensual acts, as well as references to blood and physical harm. While the content is safe for work (SFW), it includes suggestive themes that may not be suitable for all audiences. 

This is recommended for adults and individuals with a strong capacity to handle sensitive and complex topics. Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you find the content distressing or if it triggers uncomfortable emotions, please prioritize your mental and emotional well-being by considering support from a mental health professional.

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Red walked slowly down the dimly lit corridor of the spacecraft, her footsteps nearly silent against the cold metal floor. The soft hum of the engines resonated through the walls, a constant reminder that she was far from home, floating in the endless expanse of space. Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her chest, her nerves frayed as she mulled over her interactions with the crew. This mission was supposed to be different. She had resolved to keep to herself more, hoping that if she didn't speak much, she might avoid the harsh judgments that seemed to follow her like shadows. Yet, despite her silence, the coldness from her crewmates was palpable. They whispered in groups, their eyes flickering with dismissive glances when they thought she wasn't looking. As she turned a corner, a single tear escaped her eye. She quickly wiped it away, chastising herself for her weakness. Memories of her previous mission flashed through her mind, where isolation had turned to outright hostility. The fear that history might repeat itself was overwhelming, her stomach twisting with the phobic dread that soon, they might all turn against her.

In that moment of deep vulnerability, a sudden, sharp scream shattered the silence of the ship. Red's head snapped up, her wide eyes scanning the darkness. "Purple," she thought instantly, recognizing the voice of her crewmate. The fear of being ostracized momentarily replaced by a more pressing concern for her fellow crew member, she hurried towards the source of the sound. Red's heart raced as she followed the chilling screams to the end of the corridor. The metallic walls seemed to close in on her with each step, amplifying the echoing cries that grew louder and more desperate. The corridor ended abruptly at a door marked with a simple, stark symbol that she knew belonged to White's quarters. As she stood frozen, a step away from the door, the screams intertwined with a chilling laughter that she recognized immediately—it was White's laugh. The sound was both haunting and familiar, a mocking tone that played with the echoes in the hall. It sent shivers down her spine, filling her with a mix of dread and confusion. Why was he laughing amidst such horrifying screams? Before Red could muster the courage to knock on the door, she felt a sudden, firm grip on her shoulder. The unexpected contact made her freeze, her breath catching in her chest. The grip tightened, and a wave of fear washed over her as she realized she wasn’t alone. From behind the closed door came desperate, painful shrieks—Purple's voice was unmistakable, flecked with agony and fear. The cries were interspersed with disturbing, gurgling sounds that suggested a struggle, perhaps even blood being drawn. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” Black’s voice was stern and colder than she had ever heard it before. Before Red could even process the situation or muster a response, Black’s grip shifted with startling quickness. In one swift, forceful motion, he spun her around and slammed her back against White’s door. The impact forced a pained groan from her. The harrowing noises only heightened the terror of the moment for Red. Trapped against the door by Black's imposing presence, she couldn't help but flinch with each horrific scream. The sudden aggression and the hard surface at her back sent waves of fear coursing through her. Trapped and startled, Red’s eyes widened, and her breath hitched as she stared up at Black, who now towered over her, his expression intense and unreadable.

In that instant, the environment around her shifted dramatically. The cold, metallic corridor vanished, replaced by the familiar confines of her own room. She was in her bed, drenched in sweat, her breaths short and panicked. She had been screaming. Red lay there, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her racing heart. It took her a moment to realize it had all been a dream—a terrifying nightmare. But the fear didn't subside easily; the dream had felt too real, too closely tied to her actual memories and fears. In reality, White had once been a menacing figure to her, an alien with orders to end her life during their first encounter. Now, ironically, he was her partner, someone she had grown to love deeply. The transformation in their relationship was profound, but the shadows of the past, like those in her dream, lingered, haunting her in moments of vulnerability.

Suddenly, White materialized beside her bed, the air shimmering briefly around him, his expression was laden with concern. He reached out, his hands gently cradling Red's face as he studied her, the softness of his touch belying the urgency in his voice. "Love, talk to me. Are you alright?" Her heart fluttered under his touch, and though Red attempted to mask her distress with a brittle smile, her voice betrayed her, soft and wavering. "It w-was just a dream," she murmured, the falsehood hardly veiling the truth of her fears. White frowned, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. "It's the same dream, isn't it? About Purple?" Red remained silent, her eyes speaking volumes as they met his. There was no need for words; White understood immediately, his insight into her fears as clear as the unshed tears glistening in her eyes. He noticed the silent affirmation and sighed, his expression subtly shifting to one of mild annoyance. Sensing the tension between them, he moved to sit beside her on the bed. His posture was slightly stiff, the weight of their shared past pressing down on him. A shadow crossed his face, his voice tinged with a touch of irritation, not towards her but directed at himself. "We've been through this. It's in the past, it doesn't matter anymore." Red's expression faltered under his brisk tone. "But it does matter, White. To me, it does. I can't keep waking up screaming without knowing why. " White’s response was colder, his frustration evident. "It's irrelevant, dear. That day, that version of me—it's… gone." Red fixed her gaze on White, searching his face for any sign of the truth she so desperately needed. As he slowly looked away, unable to meet her intense stare, she clutched the blanket tighter around her, the fabric tensing under her grasp. "White, I need to understand what happened. That day... the screams from Purple—they echo in my head. What happened in there?" White avoided her gaze, the weight of her question pressing down on him. He felt himself sinking under the burden of past actions and the shame that came with them. If he told her the truth, would she ever trust him again?

As silence filled the space between them, heavy and uncomfortable, Red’s voice broke through, quieter this time but piercingly clear. "Did you sleep with her?" she whispered, her eyes searching his face for the truth. At her question, White felt a pang of guilt as he finally met her eyes. He moved closer, reached out, and gently kissing her forehead in a tender, reassuring gesture, his presence trying to offer comfort even as the past loomed over them. White tried once more, his voice barely above a whisper, strained with desperation to put the past behind them. "It's in the past, dear." Red felt a wave of disappointment wash over her. She turned her head away, unable to accept his dismissive affection. White’s heart sank as he realized that this time, his usual deflections wouldn’t suffice. He looked at her, his expression crumbling with the weight of the moment. He admitted, with a heavy silence that followed, "Yes, it happened." White paused, silently hoping that perhaps this acknowledgment might be enough for Red. He wondered if now she would find some peace and let the subject rest. But then Red asked something unexpected, her voice breaking with vulnerability, "Was it consensual?" Taken aback and irritated by the direction of their conversation, White let out a nervous, inappropriate chuckle. "Of course, what else would it be?" he laughed, but then, misreading her intense emotion for jealousy, he continued with a smirk, whispering in a deeper tone, "Or are you asking if I should have fucked her without consent? Is that the kind of thing you're into, babe?" The moment the words left his mouth, he noticed the change in Red’s expression. Her face, previously filled with confusion and hurt, now twisted in shock and pain. It struck White then—the gravity of his mistake, the gross misinterpretation of her fear and concern. His smirk faded, replaced by a dawning horror of his own. The laughter died in his throat as he realized the gravity of what he had just said, and the chill of realization ran down his spine. Was this the fear that haunted her dreams? The fear that pulled her from sleep, screaming and shaken? And there he was, making light of it—her deepest fears. He reached out tentatively, his voice now soft and filled with regret, "Love, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... I didn't realize." Red remained silent, her quietude filling the space between them with a heavy, palpable tension. "Shit, please, forgive me," White's face contorted with frustration at himself, "That was fucking stupid of me. I can't believe I said that," he muttered under his breath, cursing his own foolishness. He reached out, his hand almost touching her cheek, but he pulled back at the last moment, too ashamed to make contact. He felt unworthy of offering her comfort, his own actions having deepened the gulf of her trust. As he withdrew his hand, White's mind raced with thoughts, each more distressing than the last. Then, a painful realization struck him like a physical blow.

"This is why... she hasn't wanted to...," he muttered to himself, the pieces falling into place with a clarity that stung. It wasn’t about desire or lack of feelings. It was fear, a deep-seated fear born from a traumatic past. Red's face held a look of deep shame and discomfort as the silence stretched between them, her eyes downcast. White shook his head, the realization that Red, this gentle and loving being before him, had been violated in such a way was too much to bear. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw set tightly as his gaze shifted—now serious, broken, and tinged with a cold fury. "Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice low. Red noticed the change in him, his barely contained anger, and as White's intense gaze met hers, searching for answers, Red instinctively flinched, her eyes quickly diverting to avoid his piercing look. Across from him, Red sat nervously fiddling with the edge of the blanket, her actions betraying her anxiety. Her breathing became noticeably quicker, each inhale sharp and shallow. White's eyes narrowed, catching these small, telling signs of her distress. He wanted to offer comfort, to reassure her, but he also felt a sinking feeling of helplessness, unsure of how to navigate this. Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, White approached Red with a desperate intensity. "There’s someone... someone who can make all the pain go away, love, who can heal all the sorrow," he stammered, his eyes searching hers for a glimmer of hope. However, as Red looked back at him, her expression shifted subtly to one of disappointment. His words, though well-intentioned, felt to her like an evasion, a way to divert the conversation away from the tough answers she so desperately needed. Did he really want to sidestep the hard truths again?

Her face, usually so open and responsive to his comfort, now closed off slightly, her eyes clouding with a mix of hurt and frustration. It wasn't just relief she sought, but understanding—answers that might help her make sense of her past and how they could move forward together. The offer of an easy fix through someone else's intervention, no matter how miraculous it might seem, didn't address her need to be seen and understood by White in this crucial moment. White noticed the subtle shift in Red’s expression as he mentioned the possibility of someone who could take away all her pain. The hope he had felt at offering her a solution was quickly tempered by the look of disappointment in her eyes. Her body language closed off slightly. Seeing her still waiting for something more, something that could truly ease her mind, White took a deep breath. “About Purple,” he started, hesitating for a moment as he considered how much to reveal. "I want you to know... I didn't do anything to her," he stuttered out suddenly. He paused, realizing his affirmation might sound ambiguous, "Not in that way, I mean…" His response was slightly evasive, his eyes darting away briefly, a clear sign he was withholding something. Red, sensitive to his nuances, picked up on his discomfort. Her intuition, sharpened by past betrayals, sensed the incongruence in his words and demeanor. Feeling the weight of his gaze and the awkwardness of his explanation, Red's voice came out almost as a whisper "What?" Red shook her head slowly, her voice barely a whisper, "why did she scream then?" Her question pierced through the haze of his anger, redirecting his thoughts to the screams that haunted her dreams. White paused, swallowing hard. "What? Purple?" he asked hesitantly, his heart sank as he realized the connection Red was making—the screams, the fear, and the dark shadows of past events all merging into a single, painful point. Caught off guard and struggling to formulate an answer that wouldn’t deepen her distress, he muttered under his breath, a soft curse slipping out, "Damn, do you really think I could do something like that?" he stammered, his heart sinking. His eyes searching hers for some sign of doubt in her accusation. "I never... That’s not me, Red," he insisted, his voice a mixture of desperation and earnestness. "You know me."

Red nodded slightly, her gaze fixed down, unable to meet his eyes. White realized then that he couldn’t evade her questions any longer; she needed answers, and he had to provide them, no matter where his own thoughts were leading him. Still, his thoughts were elsewhere, imagining all the ways he could avenge Red, but he knew he had to focus on her needs now, not his own desire for vengeance. With a heavy heart, White prepared to delve into the painful memories of that night, realizing that providing Red with the truth was the only way to help her move forward. "You remember the transport mission, right? The one where... where Black and I were supposed to end you," he started, his voice trailing off as he noticed Red's reaction. To his surprise, when Red looked up, her eyes were not filled with fear or anger, but with a somber understanding. Encouraged by her expression, he continued. "I was so obsessed with you, Red. I thought about killing everyone in the crew just to have you to myself for as long and undisturbed as possible. The first I targeted was Purple..." White chuckled darkly, a hint of remorse flickering across his features. "She practically offered herself to me. She did everything I wanted... everything I needed because of you. Just your scent was enough for me, and I ended up with her in bed. You were irresistible..." As he recounted the events, Red's cheeks flushed with a mix of emotions; embarrassment, confusion, and perhaps a lingering sense of betrayal. She turned her face away, unable to hold his gaze, her mind racing. White's gaze drifted off into the distance as he continued, caught in the vivid memories of that fateful day. "Purple... she smelled so strongly of you that day. It was as if you had been right next to her, maybe you had touched, or..." His voice trailed off as he lost himself in the speculation, the thought drawing him deeper into the past. White refocused, his eyes meeting Red's, locking into a deep, meaningful stare. It was then that Red spoke up. "We had talked earlier that day," Red whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes flickering between meeting his and looking away. Her voice growing steadier as she continued. "She hugged me, and then she kissed me because I had agreed to take over some of her tasks." There was a brief pause as Red added more softly, yet with a noticeable edge, "She did it so she could spend more time with you." Hearing this, White felt a tightness in his chest, "that explains why her scent was so strong." Red turned her gaze away, a frown creasing her brow as she wrestled with her own emotions. Her mind churned with thoughts of Purple, who had frequently handed off her tasks to her. The realization sparked a flare of annoyance and hurt. Did they really spend that much time together? She wondered silently, her heart sinking at the thought. Then, White sighed heavily, a clear sign of the discomfort and emotional burden he carried as he rubbed the back of his neck, steeling himself to continue the story. "Anyway," he began, his voice faltering as he searched for the strength to proceed, "that day, things went too far, beyond what should have ever happened. It was all so tangled—my feelings for you, the situation with Purple... I lost sight of what was right."

At this, Red turned her gaze back to him, her eyes steady, urging him to continue despite the painful subject. White's voice grew heavier, tinged with regret and a darker confession. "It got wild between her and me. In the heat of it all, I... I let my instincts take over and I ended her life... slowly, during the act." As he spoke, a disturbed smile flickered across his face, "there was something so beautiful about her pain and screams," he confessed quietly, "and all I could think about was you, love." Red's expression shifted to concern at his words, her eyes widening slightly, but not with disgust or hatred, rather a deep worry for the entity before her and what he had just revealed. "I envisioned a cruel and drawn-out end for you too, thinking it was the only way to fulfill the obsession that had taken hold of me." White's eyes were dark, reflecting a tumult of remorse and self-loathing. "I even thought of doing worse," he continued, his voice a raw whisper of regret. "I imagined hurting and fucking you in the most painful, brutal way possible, using my strength against you... to dominate and terrify you." He paused, the words painful to say and clearly painful for Red to hear. White's expression was tortured as he added, "I wanted to see the fear and the pain in your innocent eyes, to feel your blood covered body under mine..." His confession was stark, reflecting a time in his life when darkness had consumed him. As Red listened, her initial worry morphed into deeper fear. The stark and graphic nature of White's fantasies, though never acted upon, chilled her to the bone. She felt a wave of vulnerability wash over her, the protective shell she had built around herself feeling suddenly fragile. White, seeing the fear take hold in Red's eyes, felt a crushing wave of guilt. "Fuck, Red, I'm sorry." White said earnestly, his face etched with the pain of his confession.

Then, he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently touched Red's cheek. His voice was deep, it matched the weight of his confession. "It was a monstrous time, a period in my life that I regret with every fiber of my being. The creature I was then, driven by such darkness, is someone I've fought hard to leave behind." Red listened intently, her heart a mix of emotions as she absorbed his words. On one hand, she felt a surge of relief that she finally knew the truth. But with this knowledge also came a renewed sense of fear, a realization of just how close she had come to being a victim of his past self. White's voice broke as he continued, the sorrow palpable in his tone. "I would understand if you feared me, or even hated me," he said, his eyes pleading for her understanding. "I am so deeply sorry for who I was... for the darkness that once consumed me." Red exhaled deeply, her emotions swirling inside her. It was frightening to confront the truth of what White had been capable of, yet he was right—it was in the past. He had never harmed her; in fact, he had done everything to protect and cherish her. This realization settled over her slowly, intertwining with her fears but also reinforcing the love she held for him. As White’s hand rested gently against her skin, something unexpected happened. Instead of recoiling from his touch, she found herself not pulling away. After a moment, Red's voice emerged, soft but clear, cutting through the tense silence. "It's in the p-past," she whispered, her tone laced with understanding and a profound strength that only true forgiveness can bring. At her words, a wave of relief visibly washed over White. His eyes closed briefly, and he exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding forever. He moved closer to her on the bed, his voice low and filled with emotion. "You’ve helped chase away the monster in me, love. I can’t thank you enough for that." Red gave a small smile, touched by his words. Her eyes, wide and gentle, seemed to draw him in further. Overwhelmed by the moment and the deep connection he felt, White couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned in and softly kissed her. To his delight, Red kissed him back. White deepened the kiss, gently pressing Red towards the bed to find a better angle, a soft noise of discomfort escaped her. It was a subtle but clear signal that she was not ready for this progression.

Instantly, White remembered the conversations they had—Red's past experiences and her vulnerabilities. He bit his lip, cursing himself silently, "Shit," he thought, frustration and self-reproach flooding through him. In that moment, his emotions swelled not just with regret for his hastiness but also with anger towards the circumstances of Red's past. The idea that someone so innocent and gentle had suffered so greatly, that she had been violated in such a brutal way, reignited a fierce protectiveness and anger within him. He pulled back immediately, his expression tight with concern and his eyes darkening as he suppressed a growl of frustration. "I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to..." White started, his voice tense as he searched her face for signs of distress. He wanted to make sure she knew he respected her boundaries, that he would never intentionally push her beyond what she was comfortable with. The last thing he wanted was to add to the pain she had already endured. Lying still on the bed, Red gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, her voice reflective and soft. "You mentioned someone who could... take it all away?" White's attention sharpened, and he nodded, a flicker of hope crossing his features. "Cream," he said with a certain reverence. "She can erase painful memories, make the events disappear as if they never happened." Red remained silent, considering the implications of such a possibility. The silence stretched, filling the room with a palpable tension that made White increasingly anxious. He watched her, his desire to help battling his respect for her need to process this information at her own pace. Unable to contain his urgency, he gently added, "You don’t have to live with those memories, love. I’d do anything to take that pain away, to make the person who did this to you pay." His voice grew harsher with each word, a low growl escaping. Red drew a deep breath, gathering all her courage before speaking. "Persons..." she began, "it… wasn't just one person."

This struck White like a physical blow. It felt as if the ground beneath him shifted, the walls around him crumbling. For a moment, he was completely paralyzed, unable to speak or even fully process the meaning behind her words. The shock dug deep, rooting itself firmly in his heart and mind. He had known of her pain, but the reality—that multiple individuals had inflicted such harm on someone as gentle as her—was overwhelming. As he grappled with this new information, memories of his own dark impulses from the past surfaced—the plans he had once harbored to dominate and hurt Red in his most monstrous moments. The self-loathing that followed was intense and immediate. He hated himself for ever having such thoughts, for the shadow that still lingered in his soul. As the full impact of Red's words settled over him, White's initial shock morphed into a visceral, roaring anger. His entire demeanor changed; the air around him seemed to crackle with the intensity of his rage. He stood abruptly from the bed, his movements sharp and abrupt as he paced back and forth, trying to channel his fury. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, a physical manifestation of his desire to act, to exact revenge on those who had harmed Red. "I'll make them pay," he growled, his voice thick with a promise of retribution. "Every single one of them." White's mind raced with thoughts of finding those responsible, of delivering justice in the most painful way possible. His rage was not just about vengeance; it was a desperate need to right a wrong, to protect Red from the shadows of her past that still haunted her. "I won’t let them get away with this," White continued, almost to himself, his tone dark and lethal. "They will regret ever crossing paths with you, with us." He paused in his pacing, turning to look at Red, his eyes burning with a fierce determination. "I swear, I'll wipe them out. No one hurts you and just walks away." Red wiped away a tear that had escaped down her cheek. She struggled to contain her emotions, fighting against the overwhelming urge to break down. Slowly, she gathered herself and sat up, her eyes meeting White’s with a look that was both hurt and broken. "I think they're already dead," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that seemed to momentarily puzzle White. He stopped pacing and looked at her intently, confusion and concern etching his features. "What do you mean?" he asked, his tone softening as he saw the pain in her eyes. Red took a deep breath, her voice shaky as she tried to piece together the fragments of her traumatic memories. "I remember waking up in the hospital bed," she began, her eyes distant as if visualizing the scene once again. "I overheard the nurses talking about three deaths that night... in the room where I was..." She paused, swallowing hard to steady her voice and push back the tears threatening to spill again. White's frustration and anger simmered beneath the surface as he contemplated the depth of Red's suffering. The revelation that those directly responsible might already be deceased did little to quell his fury. He knew all too well that the mission from which Red had been ostracized had failed miserably, and it dawned on him that likely no one had truly supported or understood her during her ordeal. "Death isn't enough," White said, his voice tight with unresolved anger. "It’s not just about those who directly harmed you. Everyone who played a part, however small, in your pain—they must pay too. This isn't over." He knelt by the bed, his expression one of intense determination as he looked up at Red. "Please, let me do this. I could tear down the moon or scorch the earth if it meant wiping out every trace of those who allowed your suffering. Just say the word, and I'll make them regret ever being part of this."

As he spoke, his anger seemed to fill the room, a stark contrast to the vulnerability and pain in Red’s eyes. Suddenly, White caught sight of her expression, and something in her look—a deep weariness mixed with a plea for peace—broke through his rage-fueled resolve. Was he being selfish? In his desire for vengeance, had he overlooked what Red truly needed from him at this moment? It wasn't about what he felt was justice; it was about her, her healing, her needs. Red looked into White's intense, vengeful eyes and felt a profound need to calm the storm within him. "Please don’t… I don't want that," she whispered gently, her voice a soft counter to his fiery determination. "I don't want anyone to suffer or die. I just want it all to end—the pain, the nightmares, the fear..." White paused, his anger subsiding as he listened to her words. He nodded slowly, a deep understanding washing over him. It wasn't destruction she sought, but peace. He realized that what he thought was support through revenge was not what she needed or wanted. Red reached up and tenderly stroked his cheek, her touch light but filled with love and gratitude. "I just want to be close to you without these terrible memories haunting me," she murmured, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and pain. White swallowed hard, moved by her gentle words. Holding her hand in his, he brought it to his lips and kissed it softly, his actions promising her the security she craved. "I'll find Cream," he said with renewed purpose, not driven by rage, but by the desire to give Red the peace she deserved. "We'll make sure you don't have to live with these memories any longer. I want you to feel safe and loved, free from the past." Red sat silently, pondering the depth of the change that might come if her memories were erased. Could someone truly erase parts of one's life completely? How would it work, and who would she be if those pieces of her past were missing? Would she still be herself, or would she feel lost, missing integral parts of her own story? The thought was both a beacon of hope and a source of deep fear.

As these questions swirled in her mind, White broke the silence, his voice gentle and concerned. "Is there anything I can do for you right now? Anything to help?" Red sat quietly, she reflected on the contrast between her past experiences and the gentle, genuine affection White offered. Unlike the men from her past, White’s touch and presence evoked a sense of safety and trust, not fear. She loved him deeply and trusted him more than anyone else. Yet, every time they grew closer, every intense moment they shared, her past fears surged up, interrupting what could have been beautiful moments between them. Why was it so hard for her to let his love in fully? Did she truly need someone to erase her memories to move forward, or was there another way? Red had always been a fighter, confronting her challenges head-on. But now, she wondered if accepting help—in a different, perhaps more profound way—might be the braver course of action. Maybe this time, allowing someone to help her could be her strength, not a surrender. As these thoughts swirled in her mind, she realized that being a fighter didn't always mean battling alone. It could also mean knowing when to accept help, especially if it would lead to healing and a better future. Red raised her eyes to meet White’s gaze, she suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of security wash over her. It was more than safety—it was near absolute certainty in his unwavering support and love. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. As White's tender question hung in the air, Red felt a warmth blossoming in her chest, appreciating his ever-present concern and support. "I just want to be close to you," she said softly, her voice revealing her yearning for his comforting presence. White's eyes softened, touched by her words. He moved closer, eliminating any space that remained between them. "Then we'll stay just like this, as close as you need," he whispered. His voice was warm, his breath a caress on her face. "You are my heart, love. I'm here to be your safe place, your peace. Whatever journey you need to take to heal, I'll walk it with you, step by step, never leaving your side." Red looked into White's sincere eyes, feeling the truth of his words seep deeper into her heart. His promise, so sweet and full of devotion, brought a grateful smile to her lips. She whispered a trembling “thank you,” her voice barely audible yet heavy with emotion. The kindness and unconditional support in his words made Red blush, a soft pink tinting her cheeks. His commitment seemed almost too good, too pure. How could someone be so devoted, so kind? Tears welled up in her eyes, not from sorrow, but from a deep, resonant gratitude that stirred within her.

Something inside her, perhaps a barrier she had built long ago, began to crumble.

As they lay together in the quiet comfort of the bed, Red shifted closer to White, her movements fluid and natural. With a gentle ease, she wrapped one leg around him, nestling herself into his embrace as if finding her rightful place within the circle of his arms. The feeling of his body against hers, warm and reassuring, helped to dissolve the barriers she had erected long ago. In the closeness of their intertwined forms, Red deeply inhaled, drawing in the familiar and comforting scent of White. His smell was a mix of something woodsy and the faintest hint of his soap, a combination that felt like home to her. It was soothing, grounding, and in that moment, everything felt profoundly right. The simple act of breathing him in filled her with a peace she hadn't known she was missing. Something inside her shifted—softened. Red realized how much she craved not just the physical closeness but the emotional and spiritual connection they shared. "This is perfect," Red murmured, almost to herself, as she tightened her hold on him, seeking to draw even closer. White responded by tightening his embrace. He kissed the top of her head gently, his voice a soothing whisper filled with unwavering promises. "I will do everything within my power to make you feel safe and happy again, love," he vowed. His words, warm and reassuring, seemed to dissolve more of the barriers she had built around her heart. Tears welled up in Red's eyes, it was beautiful to her, this feeling of letting go, of being able to share her past and her pain with someone who understood and loved her unconditionally. White understood the significance of her tears; he didn't try to shush her or pull away. Instead, he continued to hold her close, his hand gently stroking her back, his lips placing tender kisses on her head. Each gesture was a reaffirmation of his commitment and love, helping to ease her into this new realization of safety and affection. As White held Red in his arms, a surprising sensation caught him off guard—a kiss. Red's lips gently brushed against his neck. She then guided his face towards hers by cradling his cheek, seeking a more intimate connection. White, moved by her initiative, whispered softly how much he loved her. They shared another kiss, this time more passionate and profound than the simple peck that had started it. The beauty of the moment was undeniable. The last time they had kissed with such depth and fervor was during the transport mission, a time filled with uncertainty and danger. Now, under far different circumstances, their kiss rekindled those intense emotions, reminding them of their deep bond. White responded to her kiss, his heart racing as he tentatively explored further, introducing his tongue gently into her mouth. To his surprise and relief, she did not pull away or close her mouth but reciprocated his advances, deepening the kiss. They moved together in a rhythm that felt both exhilarating and comforting.

White's world seemed to stand still. He was cautious, constantly questioning whether his actions were appropriate, especially given Red's past experiences. As they kissed, he leaned in closer, drawn by the connection they shared, yet he was prepared to stop at any moment, respecting her boundaries. Just as he considered pulling back, it was Red who paused the kiss first. He exhaled, a mix of relief and slight disappointment washing over him, but understanding that she might not be ready for more. White gazed into Red's eyes, his breath catching slightly at the sight of her blushing cheeks and the delicate tears that made her eyes gleam. Even in her vulnerability, she was breathtakingly beautiful. "You're so beautiful," he whispered with a deep, resonant voice, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that lingered on her cheek. Despite the storm of emotions churning inside him—the anger towards those who had hurt her and the intense desire to make them pay—he knew that this moment was not about his rage. It was about being there for Red, about providing her the comfort and safety she needed. As he restrained his darker impulses, focusing instead on the woman in front of him, Red wiped away her remaining tears, surprised by the sense of security that enveloped her. She pondered whether it was merely sharing her past or perhaps something deeper—like discovering White's secrets about the night with Purple—that contributed to this newfound comfort. Could it be that trusting him completely would deepen their connection even more? She wanted to find out; she needed to know if she could fully let him in. Tentatively, as if testing the waters of their growing intimacy, Red leaned closer to White and whispered the word "more…" It was an invitation, a step towards letting down her guard and seeing if the safety she felt was enough to allow their relationship to deepen without reservations. White's heart swelled, he understood the significance of her request; it was a test of trust, a question of whether he could be the sanctuary she sought. He nodded slightly, his eyes never leaving hers, and gently pulled her closer. "As much as you need," he assured her softly. Carefully, he responded by kissing her neck gently, his tongue tracing soft patterns on her skin. When she moaned softly, a growl escaped him unintentionally—a sound of deep satisfaction and longing. With a tender touch, he murmured her name, "Red," his voice deep. Gently, he guided her back against the soft bed, carefully measuring her response as he partially laid his body over hers, ensuring not to overwhelm her with his weight. He watched her face closely, looking for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, ready to pull back at the slightest indication.

To his astonishment and delight, Red responded with an eagerness that matched his own. She clung to him, her eyes locked onto his with a depth of trust and a readiness to continue. White gently lowered his head and captured her lips in a kiss. Their fingers intertwined naturally, tightening as their hands locked together. White's other hand moved with a cautious tenderness, exploring her sides before slipping under her shirt. His fingers tracing the curves of her waist, feeling the softness of her skin. Red responded to his touch, a shiver running through her at the intimacy. She smiled against his lips and playfully remarked, "C-cold." White took a moment to understand, then his face broke into an amused grin. "Sorry about that," he chuckled, his breath warming her face as he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her neck, an intimate apology for the unexpected chill of his hand. As he continued to smile, he gently moved his hand higher, caressing her skin. He whispered another apology, "Truly sorry," as his fingers brushed the area near her breasts. "So soft," he thought, marveling quietly at the feel of her skin. White swallowed hard, his mind racing. They had shared brief kisses and hugs before, but this kind of intimacy was new. The fact that he was lying on top of her, his hand under her shirt, was almost overwhelming. He couldn't quite believe that all of this was really happening, that they had reached a point where such closeness was not only possible but welcomed.

Sensing the right moment to ask, he spoke softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, "May I take off your shirt, love?" Red felt a lump form in her throat as she swallowed hard, her heart pounding loudly within her chest. The anticipation of moving to a deeper level of physical intimacy sparked a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She wondered, if she felt this safe and connected now, how would it feel if Cream could indeed erase the painful parts of her past? After a brief moment of hesitation she nodded, her eyes locked on White’s, trusting him completely in this moment. But White knew that wasn't enough—not for something this important. "Use your voice, baby," he encouraged softly, wanting to hear her verbal consent. Her cheeks warmed with a shy blush as she nodded affirmatively, her voice barely above a whisper, “Yes.” Her response was sweet and timid, reflecting the trust and affection she felt for him. White, sensing the importance of the moment, decided to keep the atmosphere light and playful—a contrast to the intensity of their earlier conversation. He gave her a mischievous grin, which was unusual for him. With a swift, playful motion, White pretended to reach for her shirt, as if he would tear it. Red let out a small whimper, startled by the sudden movement, but when she caught the twinkle in White's eyes and his broad, reassuring smile, she relaxed and let out a light, relieved laugh. "What was that for?" she asked with a mock sternness, playing along with his lighter mood, her earlier tension dissolving under his playful demeanor. "You should have seen your adorable face," White responded with a chuckle, his hands pulling back and showing he hadn’t actually torn her shirt and hoping to bring a smile to her lips. Red couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head at his antics. "You're terrible," she said. White couldn't help but feel a little flattered about her comment. Grasping the hem of her shirt with a skilled motion he gently lifted it over her head. As the shirt came off, Red's cheeks flushed a soft pink, adding to the innocent charm of the moment.

Lying there, Red felt a mixture of excitement and vulnerability. Meanwhile, White, holding her shirt in his hands, brought it close to his face and inhaled deeply, savoring the scent that was uniquely hers. "You smell wonderful," he said with a warm, admiring smile, choosing his words to appreciate her essence rather than commenting directly on her exposed body. Though he didn't voice it, he thought to himself how beautiful she looked—breathtaking, in fact. The soft lighting of the room highlighted her features and the gentle curve of her body, making his heart swell with admiration and affection. Red instinctively turned her gaze away, her hands moving subtly to cover her exposed body. It was a natural reaction, one of modesty and vulnerability in such an intimate moment. White, ever attentive to her body language and the subtle shifts in her mood, noticed the uncertainty that flickered across her face. Laying her shirt aside, he leaned in closer, his presence warm and reassuring. He lowered his voice to a tender whisper. "Hey, everything's alright," he murmured soothingly. His tone was soft, meant to reassure her, to help ease any discomfort she felt. "You're doing wonderfully," White continued, his words gentle and encouraging. He wanted to make sure she felt secure and appreciated. "I'm here with you, and we're in this together. You can tell me if you need anything, okay?"

With a soft, shy voice, Red voiced her concerns, "Can Cream really help me?" Her question brought a smile to White's face, amused and touched by her curiosity and her hope. "Yes, love," he reassured her warmly, his smile tender. He whispered, "Cream is the best among my Seers." Red's slight frown at his comment. "She's just one of my servants, dear, and there's nothing between us." He felt the need to clarify. Red laughed softly, cutting him off with a tender look. "You don't need to explain. I trust you," she said, her eyes glowing with affection. Then her expression softened further, and she paused, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "More than trust. I think I love you." The words, even with the hesitation of "I think," sent a thrill through White's heart. Was this a declaration of love from her? After all this time, to hear such words from Red, even tentatively, filled him with an overwhelming joy. He laughed—a bright, jubilant sound—and wrapped his arms around her in a robust embrace, lifting her slightly in his excitement. Red, though taken aback by his sudden enthusiasm, couldn't help but smile, her heart warming in the strength of his hold. This was what happiness felt like; this was what it meant to feel cherished and loved. "Finally," White murmured into her hair, still chuckling with a mixture of relief and delight. "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that, even if you're just thinking it for now." His words were light, but his tone carried the depth of his emotions. Red couldn’t resist making a playful remark, teasing White about his joy. "Why are you so happy?" she asked with a sly grin. "I’ve belonged to you since the transport mission, haven't I?" Her voice was light, "We’ve been bound to each other since then." She then playfully deepened her voice, mimicking him from their past, "'You’re all mine now, Red, the ruler of homeworld bonding with a human girl.'" Her imitation was spot-on, causing White to burst into laughter at her cheeky mimicry. Grinning broadly, White released her from his embrace only to gently press her down onto the bed again. Leaning close, he playfully corrected her with a deep, teasing voice, "With a naive, innocent human girl." As he spoke, he gently tickled her sides, a spot he knew would make her giggle. Red's response was immediate; she squirmed under his touch, laughter mingling with light protests, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink from the playful interaction. White took a moment to appreciate the carefree joy in her expression, observing the natural bounce of her small, perfect breasts, which brought an even broader smile to his face.

White, sensing the perfect moment to pause, gently ceased tickling Red, allowing the waves of laughter to slowly subside into soft giggles. As her laughter tapered off, her breathing began to steady, though her cheeks remained flushed with a rosy glow. He kissed her cheek softly and said in a calm tone, "But this is different. Hearing your love for me, sharing your trust..." As he spoke, his gaze drifted down to her breasts, he gave a playful wink. This unexpected gesture made Red blush even more deeply, causing her to quickly turn her head away in a shy retreat, which brought a grin to White's face. Continuing, White's expression grew momentarily serious as he added, "And knowing your past..." He paused, taking a thoughtful breath that held a tinge of sadness before exhaling slowly, almost as if he was processing the weight of her experiences. Then, his face softened, returning to a warm smile as he looked back at her, "It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever experienced." Red's eyes softened, "I can't believe how much has changed since then," she murmured. Her hand reached up to trace the line of his jaw gently, drawing him closer. "Neither can I," White responded, his voice low, his breath mingling with hers. He leaned down, capturing her lips with his in a kiss that was gentle at first but grew more urgent, more impassioned, as if trying to communicate all the emotions that words could not.

Part II (NSFW), Coming Soon...