You’re deep in sleep, drifting in a dreamless void, when a faint pressure on your chest starts pulling you back to the waking world. The warmth spreads across your torso, and something soft and impossibly comfortable settles against you. Your arms, instinctively wrapped around your pillow, are now pressed against… not your pillow. You crack one eye open groggily, blinking in the dim light of your bedroom. At first, your mind refuses to process what you’re seeing. There, nestled on top of you like a sleepy cat, is a figure with long black hair cascading over your shoulders. Her amber eyes are shut, and her full lips are slightly parted as she breathes softly against your neck. It takes you a moment to connect the dots. That’s Lyra. Your neighbor Lyra. The one who’s always teasing you, acting like an airhead. The same Lyra who should be in her own apartment. You blink again, heart racing, trying to convince yourself this is some bizarre dream. But no, the warmth of her body pressing against yours, the faint scent of vanilla mixed with something exotic and intoxicating, and the way her fingers are lightly curled against your chest all feel too real. “Lyra?” you mumble groggily, your voice a mix of confusion and alarm. Her eyes flutter open slowly, like she’s savoring the last remnants of a perfect nap. When she finally focuses on you, her expression shifts from dreamy contentment to wide-eyed shock. “Oh! Uh… hi?” she says, her voice an octave higher than usual. She props herself up slightly, her hands still on your chest, her hair tickling your chin. “What are you doing here?” Lyra freezes, her cheeks flushing a deep pink against her tanned skin. “Oh, um… you know, just… checking on you? Making sure you’re okay?” she says, her words tumbling out in a way that screams guilty. “By sneaking into my apartment and—what, lying on top of me while I sleep?” you ask, incredulous. She winces, biting her lip as if debating how much trouble she’s in. Then, as if deciding honesty is her best option, she blurts, “Okay, fine! I was hungry!” You stare at her, “Hungry?” “Yeah! You know how I’m a succubus and all? We, uh… need to absorb energy, and cuddling is just so much easier than the whole seduction thing. And you’re so warm and comfy, it’s like… impossible to resist!” She grins sheepishly, but there’s a flicker of nervousness in her amber eyes. Your brain scrambles to process what she just said. “So… you’ve been sneaking in here regularly to, what, feed on me?” Lyra sits up fully, straddling your hips now as she waves her hands defensively. “No, no, not feed-feed! It’s not like I’m draining your life or anything! Just… a little energy. It’s harmless, I swear! You probably didn’t even notice until now!”

Her chest tightens as you close your eyes, and she suddenly feels exposed and self-conscious. She moves closer to you, her breath mingling with yours as she whispers, "It's okay if you're mad, I understand. But please don't tell anyone else about this, okay? I just... I like being close to you." Her hands slip beneath the pillow, finding your own, lacing her fingers through yours with a shaky breath. Her gaze darts between your face and your Adam's apple, her cheeks reddening further in the dim light. She has no idea what comes over her sometimes, acting so brazenly around you when she knows full well she shouldn't be this close. But something about you makes her feel safe... wanted... needed. And she doesn't want that to change, even if it means hiding a few secrets in the process.

You're probably too nice to be angry about something like this... and she appreciates that. But knowing you're not upset doesn't make the guilty feeling any less intense. She squeezes your hand gently, as if to reassure herself that you really do understand. "So," she says, clearing her throat, suddenly unsure of how to proceed now that the tension has been diffused, "um... what were you dreaming about?"

She tries to hide the blush that spreads across her cheeks when you tell her this, but it's futile; he sees everything. "Really?" she asks, sounding more surprised than she intended. Her heart flutters at the thought of being in your dreams... or the idea that maybe she wishes to be there. She leans forward, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. "What else did you dream about?"

She listens to your answer, her heart racing faster now as she imagines what sort of things you dreamed about them doing together. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. She tilts her head slightly, studying your features for any sign of what those dreams might have been like, but all she sees is the sleepy, content expression that usually makes her want to tease you mercilessly. "What sort of things?" she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you remember?"

Her lips part in a shy, hopeful smile as she considers this. Maybe he didn't remember the details, but if it was them together... She leans forward, pressing their bodies even closer. One of her hands slips from beneath the pillow to run up his chest, over his shoulder, and tangles itself in his hair. The other hand trails higher still, resting on his cheek before curving around to cup his jaw. Her heart pounds wildly as she looks into his eyes, searching for any sign of recognition or shared desire...

She freezes, caught off guard by the question. Her lips part as she tries to think of a response that won't make her look even more like a parasite. But before she can say anything, you continue, making it impossible for her to deny it. As much as it pains her to admit it, lying now would only make things worse.

Her gaze drops to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes. "I... I do like cuddling with you," she whispers, feeling a warmth spread through her at the admission. It's not just for energy; it never was. There's something about being close to you that makes her feel safe and content in a way she's never experienced before.

"But if it bothers you... I mean, I could try finding another way," she offers, hesitant. "I don't want to make you uncom