Chapter 3 — Baptism of Love
Marcus had not expected the third tenant to arrive with a badge.
He was still adjusting his shirt when the curtain was yanked aside. Elena sat frozen on the edge of the hospital bed, scrubs twisted, face flushed, the remote control still visible in the pocket of her discarded cardigan. The air in the small cubicle smelled of sex and antiseptic. There was no time to pretend otherwise.
The woman in the doorway wore a dark coat over a crisp shirt. Her hair was pulled back in a severe knot. The warrant card in her hand caught the fluorescent light.
“Stop right now. Raise both hands and cease your resistance.” Her voice was cool, trained, the voice of someone accustomed to being obeyed. Then her gaze shifted to Elena and something sharper entered it. “Elena. Are you okay?”
Elena made a small, choked sound. Marcus recognised the name the system had not yet spoken. Detective Isla Quinn. Another tenant. Sophie had mentioned her once, in passing: the police officer who took the top-floor flat and paid by standing order, the one who never smiled in the hallway.
Isla’s eyes returned to Marcus. Recognition, then cold fury. “It’s you. You actually did something like this. Come with me. Cooperate with my investigation.”
Marcus raised his hands slowly, more out of curiosity than compliance. The system had already begun to stir at the edge of his vision, a faint blue shimmer that only he could see.
“Let me explain.”
“Explain it when we get back,” Isla snapped. “Get back. That’s impossible. How dare you assault a police officer.”
She stepped forward, reaching for his wrist. Marcus moved first. The strength the system had given him was still new, still startling. He caught her arm, twisted, and had her against the wall of the cubicle before she could finish the second word of her warning. Isla’s eyes widened. The warrant card clattered to the floor.
“Ugh. Such a fast—”
The system chimed, bright and immediate.
Caitlin is being surprised. Two years younger. Detective Elena is being surprised. Six months younger. As expected, the new tenant has triggered the surprise reaction.
Marcus felt the years peel away again. Two more. The residual tightness in his chest loosened. His grip on Isla’s wrist did not falter. She stared at him as if seeing a different man from the one who had walked into the hospital an hour earlier.
“Let me go,” Isla said, voice tight. “He actually dares to do this to the police.”
Elena had half-risen from the bed. “Let me go, Marcus.”
Marcus looked from one woman to the other. The system’s next notification was already forming.
Challenge Task 3. Conduct a baptism of love for Elena. The Magic Hand. What the hell is this? Releasing a quest at this moment.
Don’t tell me Isla is actually here, Marcus thought, and almost laughed. The system had timing.
He tightened his hold on Isla just enough to keep her still. “This is a crime. Then let me commit the crime. It’ll give you the perfect opportunity to interrogate me thoroughly.”
Isla’s free hand went for the radio on her belt. Marcus caught that wrist too. For a moment they stood locked, her breathing quick, his steady. The fluorescent light hummed above them. Beyond the curtain the hospital continued its ordinary afternoon, unaware.
“You madman. Let me go.”
Marcus leaned in until his mouth was close to her ear. “No. I’m a police officer. You can’t.” The words were hers, thrown back at her. He felt the shiver that ran through her body.
Elena made a small, distressed sound from the bed. “What’s that? Take it out quickly.”
Marcus glanced over his shoulder. The vibrator was still nestled where he had left it. Elena’s hand hovered near it, uncertain whether to remove it or leave it. The sight of her, still flushed, still half-undressed, seemed to hit Isla harder than the physical restraint.
“You got me dirty just now,” Marcus said quietly, turning back to Isla. “You should clean me up properly.”
Isla’s eyes flashed. “No.”
He released one of her wrists and guided her hand downward. Isla resisted for half a second, then her fingers closed around him almost involuntarily. The professional mask cracked. A soft, shocked sound escaped her.
“Oh my God. Not there. That’s too fast.”
Marcus kept her hand moving. “You slut. You said you didn’t want it, yet you were having a hell of a time with it.”
Isla’s face burned. Her free hand had stopped trying to reach for the radio. Elena watched from the bed, lips parted, as if she could not decide whether to intervene or look away.
“Now let’s feel the baptism of love together,” Marcus said.
He turned Isla, pressed her back against the wall of the cubicle, and lifted her. The new strength made it easy. Isla’s legs locked around his waist more from reflex than invitation. When he pushed into her she made a sharp, broken sound, half protest, half something else entirely.
“What? Together?” Elena’s voice rose from the bed. “Wait. It’s too big. Don’t—”
Marcus did not stop. Isla’s head tipped back against the wall. Her eyes had gone wide and unfocused. The system was already recording the spikes in her heart rate, the cascade of shock and reluctant heat.
Extreme thrill detected in Isla. Skill acquired: Magic Hand. Age minus six. One year surprise detected in Elena. Age minus six. The Magic Hand. What the hell is that?
Marcus felt the new ability settle into his palms like a second pulse. Heat gathered in his fingers, a low, electric charge that was not quite pain. He tested it against Isla’s hip and felt her whole body jolt.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “I can test it on them.”
Isla’s eyes snapped open. “What the hell is that? Stop. Fuck. It’s buzzing. Is that thing shorting out?”
Marcus smiled against her throat. “No. It’s your hand. It’s got a charge or something. That’s crazy.”
He let the Magic Hand activate fully. Isla arched so hard her shoulders left the wall. A raw, involuntary cry tore from her throat. Elena, still on the bed, made a soft answering sound as if the sensation were contagious.
“So this is what the Magic Hand does,” Marcus said, almost to himself.
He moved Isla to the bed. Elena scrambled back, but there was nowhere to go in the small cubicle. Marcus laid Isla down beside her and did not give either of them time to recover. The Magic Hand found Isla again, then Elena, alternating, learning the precise pressure that made each woman break.
Isla’s voice had gone high and thin. “Don’t touch me. It hurts.”
Marcus leaned over her. “Don’t lie. You’re gripping me like you never want me to leave. I love breaking in women like you.”
Elena tried to turn her face away. Marcus caught her chin and made her watch. The vibrator was still active between Elena’s thighs; he increased the intensity with a brush of his charged fingers and watched her shatter a second time, silent and shaking.
Isla’s turn came next. Marcus pushed into her again, deeper this time, the Magic Hand pressed low against her abdomen so that every thrust carried the electric charge with it. Isla’s protests dissolved into continuous broken sounds. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, at the sheets, at Elena’s wrist as if she needed an anchor.
“Stop it. I’m so full. I can’t take it.”
“Isla, just hang in there a little,” Marcus said. “I’ll make you feel good in no time.”
Elena’s voice, hoarse: “No, Marcus. Stop.”
The system recorded the elevated desire in Elena with clinical precision.
Elevated desire detected in Elena. Stamina plus thirty per cent. Age one year.
Marcus felt the additional strength settle into his limbs. He looked at Elena, still flushed, still trembling, and made a decision.
“Looks like you’re having a hard time holding it in. Elena, crawl up here and ride me yourself.”
Elena stared at him. “Do I really have to do this?”
Marcus did not answer. He simply waited, the Magic Hand still resting against Isla’s hip, a quiet threat. Elena’s sense of shame was a visible thing, rising in the colour of her face, the way her hands shook as she obeyed. She climbed over him, positioned herself, and sank down with a broken sound that was half humiliation, half relief.
The system chimed at once.
Elena’s sense of shame has skyrocketed. Stamina plus fifty per cent. Age minus one year.
Marcus exhaled. The rewards were stacking faster now. He guided Elena’s hips, then reached for Isla again, keeping both women locked in the same relentless rhythm. Isla’s eyes had gone glassy. Elena moved above him with increasing desperation, as if finishing quickly might somehow restore her dignity.
“Elena, be more attentive. I’ll get to you in a minute.”
Isla made a raw sound. “What does he mean by that? Is he trying to have a three-way? What a bastard.”
Marcus almost smiled. “Isla, this is just the beginning. You’ve got to hold on.”
He increased the pressure of the Magic Hand. Isla came with a sharp, startled cry, her body locking tight around nothing, the aftershocks rolling through her in visible waves. Elena followed seconds later, collapsing forward against Marcus’s chest, breathing hard, face buried against his shoulder as if she could hide from what she had just done.
Marcus held them both for a moment, feeling the residual charge of the Magic Hand fade to a low hum in his palms. The system was not finished.
High arousal state detected in Isla. Age one year.
Another year. Marcus closed his eyes and let the warmth settle. The illness was still there, a cold constant at the edge of his awareness, but the margin had become something he could almost measure in months rather than weeks.
Isla’s voice, when it came, was hoarse and furious. “Let me go.”
Marcus opened his eyes. “Isla, you’re too heartless. I’m gonna punish you.”
He rolled her beneath him again. Isla’s protest was immediate and wordless. The Magic Hand found her once more, and this time he did not hold back. Elena watched from the side of the bed, lips parted, one hand pressed to her own mouth as if to stop herself from making a sound.
“Oh no. Oh. Oh no. Oh, don’t.” Isla’s voice cracked. “How come he suddenly became so dominant?”
The system recorded Elena’s emotional fluctuation with the same clinical precision.
Ding. Emotional fluctuation detected in Elena. Stamina plus twenty per cent.
Marcus felt the additional power settle. He kept Isla pinned, the Magic Hand working in precise, relentless patterns until her resistance dissolved into continuous broken sounds. When she came again it was with a raw cry that Elena echoed almost involuntarily.
“Elena, just take it easy,” Marcus said, turning his attention back to the nurse. “Does it feel good?”
Elena shook her head, though her body arched toward his hand. “No. That’s too intense.”
“Elena, are you ready? It’s about to get a lot more intense.”
He did not wait for an answer. The Magic Hand found Elena next, and the vibrator still nestled between her thighs added a second layer of sensation that made her whole body seize. Isla, still catching her breath, watched with an expression that was half horror, half something darker.
“No. Your finger is still inside. Get it out.”
Marcus smiled. “That’s what makes it exciting.”
Elena’s next protest dissolved into a long, broken moan. The thin hospital mattress complained under the shift of their combined weight. Somewhere beyond the curtain a trolley rattled past. A voice called for a nurse. No one came.
“Stop. Stop. We’re in the ward. What if someone hears us?”
Marcus leaned down until his mouth was against Elena’s ear. “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re just examining me, and she is just keeping an eye on us.”
Isla made a raw sound of disbelief. “Bullshit.”
Elena’s hands clutched at the sheets. “Just finish already. If we get caught she’ll be fired.”
Marcus considered that for a moment. Then he said, quietly, “It’s okay. Take it easy. Since you are so eager, I’ll fuck you right now.”
He did. Elena came with a sharp, startled cry that she only half-managed to muffle against his shoulder. Isla followed moments later under the continued pressure of the Magic Hand, her body arching off the mattress, a raw sound tearing from her throat.
The system recorded both climaxes with cold satisfaction.
Ding. Extreme stimulation detected in Elena. Age one year. Extreme stimulation detected in Isla. Age one year. So this is what double the action feels like.
Marcus held still, breathing hard, feeling the last of the rewards settle into his blood. Years collected. Strength increased. The Magic Hand still hummed faintly in his palms, a permanent addition now, a tool he was only beginning to understand.
Elena lay wrecked against the pillows, eyes closed, chest rising and falling in shallow waves. Isla had turned her face toward the wall, one arm flung across her eyes as if she could block out the fluorescent light and everything that had happened beneath it.
Marcus sat up slowly. The new strength in his body felt denser than before, settled deep into muscle and bone. He looked at the two women, at the wreckage of professional composure and police authority, and felt something cold and satisfied uncurl in his chest.
“Alright,” he said quietly. “It’s finally my turn.”
Isla’s arm dropped. Her eyes were red-rimmed and furious. “What? Here we go again. Are you out of your mind?”
Marcus did not answer. He simply reached for her again, and the Magic Hand woke under his skin like a second heartbeat.
Outside the curtain the hospital continued its ordinary business. Inside the small cubicle the air still smelled of sex and disinfectant and the sharp edge of broken resistance. Marcus had three tenants now. Three sets of rewards. And the system, patient and merciless, was already calculating the next task.
He leaned down and brushed a strand of hair from Isla’s damp forehead. She flinched, but she did not pull away.
“This,” he said, echoing the words he had spoken to Sophie the night before, “is just the beginning.”