Hæra’s hand moved again, not just once. This time, it began to rub back and forth as she touched herself through her sweatpants. The rhythm, the changing pressure, made her hips rise and fall, chasing the sensation.

She didn’t mean to do any of this, any more than she’d meant to take Madeleine’s hand, or touch her arm, or pull her into a fierce embrace. What was happening to her? Madeleine had some strange effect on her—made Hæra act without thinking, pulled her out of herself, somehow⁠—

It felt so good. She trembled at her own touch. There was nothing like this in her true form. Her kind had no sexual response save going into heat; she had never experienced that, and it had always sounded awful. This was pure, self-indulgent pleasure that seemed to have no purpose other than shivering through her blood.

What would it be like if she touched her flesh more directly, instead of through fabric? Would it feel even more enjoyable? Only one way to find out.

Hæra made sure her bedroom door was fully closed—both Jonathan and the books had emphasized that human sexuality was a private matter. Then, she shimmied out of her sweatpants and underwear, lay back down on the bed, and looked at the triangle of dark hair between her pale thighs. It was rather striking, in a way she’d never considered before. Did Madeleine look like this too?

At that thought, Hæra didn’t feel a pulse so much as an ache. She bit her lip again, this time to stifle a gasp. It would have been a loud gasp.

Thinking of Madeleine’s thighs, she pressed her fingers between her spread legs, against the bare flesh there. Good thing she was biting her lip, still. Without her clothes in the way, her fingers called forth a hotter, sharper response. The noise she wanted to make was in her throat.

This was remarkable—not like touching her arms or legs or any other part of herself. When she did that, her body didn’t change. The rest of her body didn’t grow hot and heavy, it didn’t start to ache and plead for more.

Let it have more, then. Hæra let her fingers roam. When she pressed at her lips, she felt a delightful throb. When she rubbed her fingertips against her entrance, it seemed to flutter, as if it had a mind of its own. And the more she explored, the more sensitive she grew.

Sensitive, and…wet. The books had said that was normal too. It was her body’s way of preparing for penetration. Hæra had never been penetrated, at least not in this way. How would it feel?

Only one way to find out about that, too.