Counterfeit Hero

The lights in the cabin were dimly adjusted.

Helen quietly sat by the bed, watching Fatty who was sound asleep.

The sleek alloy bed frame was fixed to the cabin wall. On the wide, soft mattress, a beige sheet was spread. Fatty lay sprawled in the middle of the big bed, snoring deeply.

He was sleeping very soundly.

Helen’s long, fair fingers gently caressed Fatty’s face.

This was a chubby face. The nose was quite high, and the eyes were actually not small, with ears that stuck out a bit. If he lost some weight, he would perhaps be the type of man who, though not handsome, could attract many girls.

However, for some reason, Helen didn’t want this guy to lose weight. As he was now, he was endearingly simple, possessing a childlike innocence unique to Fatty. This feeling gave Helen a special sense of closeness and possession. No matter what kind of hero or warrior he was outside, in front of her, he was just a simple, colorfully-minded but essentially harmless Fatty.

The touch of her fingertips was very light. Helen cautiously made close contact with this man who had already occupied her entire soul. At this moment, this guy was completely hers.

Fatty, in his deep sleep, reached up to scratch his own face. Startled, Helen quickly withdrew her hand.

Fatty scratched his face hard, his chubby cheeks deformed by his fingers. He muttered nonsensical syllables in his sleep, oblivious to their meaning.

He was too tired. Helen felt a twinge of heartache.

The death of Hamilton had added a heavy burden onto Fatty’s shoulders.

Helen turned her body, cautiously snuggling beside Fatty, curling herself under his open arm. Her golden curly hair resembled the waves under the sunlight. Her slender waist and long beautiful legs curled together like a pure, immaculate baby.

Under Fatty’s arm, Helen felt safe.

Time ticked by, and the room was quiet.

In a state between dream and wakefulness, Fatty felt a soft form pressing close against his body.

Hm, what’s this? Round, smooth, fragrant, soft, with a bit of elasticity... like a seal playing with a ball—let’s poke it first.

The rascal arched his back...

A sudden light moan made Fatty open his eyes. Before him was a face blushing and radiant. Large, watery eyes, with a touch of shyness and a hint of coquettishness, looked at him.

Who is this, with enticing eyes—like a fox spirit? In his daze, a surge of desire rose. Fatty captured Helen’s soft, sweet lips with his mouth.

”Mmm...”

Helen closed her eyes, her body, soft as a fragrant snake, wrapped around Fatty.

Fatty’s hand gripped Helen’s firm, smooth buttocks tightly, while his other hand slipped under her clothes. With a gentle touch, Helen’s pink lace bra was unclasped.

Amidst the repressed, lingering moans, Fatty’s hand caressed Helen’s firm breasts, which were as smooth and firm as peaches. With the movement of his fingers, they trembled, and the buds at the tips became increasingly hard.

The two entangled in a heated kiss, their breathing becoming heavy and rapid. Their bodies rubbed against one another, exploring and caressing each other, growing hotter. In the intense caresses, Helen’s top was pushed to her shoulders, her pants slid to her thighs. Her exposed body was dazzlingly pale.

Helen’s eyes were blurred, her chin raised high. Her fingers intertwined in Fatty’s hair, her moans carried a hint of trembling. Her long legs, trying to close, trying to bend, yet stretched out straight. A layer of pink particles crawled over every inch of her skin touched and kissed by Fatty.

She felt that the Fatty above her was like a fire, passionate and warm.

His lips and hands roamed over her entire body, as if endowed with a magic power, making wherever they touched feel a tingling numbness.

Naturally inexperienced in such matters, Helen was almost conquered instantly, struggling and indulging under Fatty’s magic grasp, moaning and calling out involuntarily. She felt like a flower, slowly being peeled open by the touch of a bee, revealing her trembling core. This wonderful sensation made her shiver.

Fatty indulgently enjoyed the soft, warm jade in his arms—a feeling long absent from him. At this moment, he lacked any consciousness, driven solely by a man’s instinct.

It was infinitely romantic; just as it seemed... Fatty stopped. In a long sigh from Helen, his brain, delayed in response, suddenly became clear.

Fatty looked at Helen in a daze, shook his head, closed his eyes, and then opened them again.

It wasn’t a dream—Helen was still curled up in his arms, clinging tightly to him, trembling slightly. Her legs were hooked around his waist, gripping and then hesitantly loosening, like a timid little flower, hesitating in the wind, shyly awaiting bloom.

”Helen...” Fatty’s desire was completely overshadowed by a rushing sense of emotion.

This was Leray’s number one beauty, the dream girl of countless Leray men. In times of peace, her fan base spanned all of Leray. Yet now, she was curled in his arms, clothes in disarray... worried about him, yielding to him entirely.