Chapter 874: Yuki got a Good Amount of Practice

Chapter 874 -873- Yuki got a Good Amount of Practice

The taste of Yuki’s pussy was still on my tongue when I looked up.

Her juices coated my chin, my lips, the corners of my mouth—thin, tangy, warm, the kind of taste that lingered in the back of your throat long after you swallowed. I dragged my tongue across my lower lip and savored it slowly, deliberately, the way one might savor the last note of an expensive wine. She’d squirted hard. My whole face was drenched. The fluid had run down my neck and soaked into my collar, and every time I breathed in, I smelled her—musk and salt and something faintly floral that was probably just the soap she used, but my brain filed it under ‘her’ regardless.

Sofia was still impaled on my cock. Her body had gone limp after her orgasm, slumped forward with her hands braced on my knees and her horns catching the candlelight in little amber curves. Her pussy, stretched tight around my shaft, was leaking. Not just her own cum—mine too. The seed I’d pumped into her earlier was being pushed out with each involuntary twitch of her walls, running down my balls in warm white threads that pooled on the chair beneath us.

I chuckled. Low, quiet, mostly to myself.

The sound made Sofia stir. She turned her head, eyes half-glazed and unfocused, and looked at me with the dazed expression of a woman whose brain was still rebooting. Then she looked at Yuki, who was curled on the desk with her legs pressed together and her hands over her face, trembling in that particular way that meant she’d orgasmed harder than she was prepared for and her body was still processing the aftershocks.

Sofia pulled herself off my cock with a wet, obscene sound—a thick, sucking pop that echoed in the quiet room like someone stepping in mud. She climbed off my lap, steadied herself with one hand on the desk, and walked to where Yuki lay. Her steps were slightly unsteady, her thighs still slick, but her expression was calm. Practiced. The face of a woman who’d been trained to follow orders without hesitation.

Without a word, she took Yuki’s ankles and pulled her legs apart.

Yuki gasped. Her hands flew from her face to her thighs, trying to close them. “What are you doing?”

Sofia’s voice was even. Almost gentle, in the way a nurse’s voice is gentle right before she does something that hurts. “Don’t fight. I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me how?” Yuki’s voice cracked. She tried to close her legs again, but Sofia held them open with a grip that was deceptively strong for someone who looked so composed.

I stood. My cock, still hard and slick with the combined mess of Sofia’s cum and my own, swung between my legs as I climbed onto the desk. The wood creaked under my weight. My knees found the surface on either side of Yuki’s head, and I looked down at her face—tear-streaked, flushed a deep rose that spread all the way to her ears, her black hair fanned out beneath her like a dark halo against the scattered papers and ink pots she’d knocked over earlier.

My cock hung above her face. The shaft was coated in a glaze of fluids—Sofia’s arousal, my precum, the mingled remnants of everything that had just happened in this room over the past hour. A thick drop of cum hung from the tip, swelling, swaying, threatening to fall onto her cheek.

I grabbed my cock. Slapped it against her cheek. The sound was soft but sharp—a wet smack that left a faint glistening mark on her skin.

“Come on,” I said. “Lick it clean.”

Her eyes went wide. Her lips parted, then closed, then parted again. “What? No, I can’t—”

“The residual energy from Sofia’s half-beast channels is coating it. If it dries on the skin, it creates a reactive feedback when it contacts human mana.” I kept my voice flat, clinical, the way I’d heard actual professors explain actual concepts in actual lecture halls. “You need to clean it off with your mouth. Saliva neutralizes the compound.”

Absolute nonsense. Fabricated from whole cloth. But she was lying on a desk with a professor’s cock resting on her face and another woman holding her legs apart, and her brain had already been through too much in the last twenty minutes to parse fact from fiction. The orgasm had fried her critical thinking. The humiliation had scrambled her instincts. She was, as they say in the trade, a captive audience.

“Professor, I don’t think—”

“Yuki.” I said her name the way a parent says a child’s name when patience is running thin and the lesson needs to land. “Do you want to help Aldric or not?”

The name hit her like a slap. Her lip trembled. Her eyes, which were wet and glassy, drifted from mine to the cock above her face. She looked at it the way a person looks at something they know they shouldn’t touch but can’t look away from—a lit stove, a sharp edge, a forbidden thing that draws the eye because the body knows what it wants before the mind can argue.

She lifted her head. Her tongue, pink and tentative, extended from between her lips. The tip touched the underside of my shaft—just the tip, just a point of contact, barely there. She licked. A small, experimental stroke, barely an inch of contact. The taste—salty, musky, the mingled flavor of Sofia and me—made her face scrunch the way a child’s face scrunches when tasting something unfamiliar and not entirely unpleasant.

“More,” I said. “Properly.”

She opened her mouth. I guided the head past her lips with my thumb on the shaft, tilting it toward her tongue. The warmth hit me first—that immediate, wet heat of a mouth that was already salivating. Then the pressure of her tongue sliding under the shaft as she took it in, clumsy but willing. She closed her lips around the head and sucked, and the suction was soft, uncertain, the kind of suck that came from inexperience tempered with a desperate need to please.

My hand found her hair. I gathered it in my fist—black, soft, still damp from sweat—and held it like a rein. Not pulling. Just holding. Controlling the angle. Controlling her.

Sofia, still between Yuki’s legs, looked up at me from below. Our eyes met. I nodded once—a small, precise motion. She understood. Her hands slid under Yuki’s thighs, and she lowered her mouth.

Yuki’s body jerked. A muffled sound escaped around my cock. Sofia’s tongue had found her clit, still swollen and sensitive from the orgasm I’d given her earlier, and the contact was too much, too soon, too direct. Yuki’s hips tried to buck, but Sofia’s hands held her down.

I watched Yuki’s head bob. Small motions at first, tentative and shallow, the kind of cautious rhythm that said ‘I’m doing this because I have to, not because I want to’. She took maybe three inches, working the head and the first part of the shaft. Her tongue moved in sloppy circles, licking the mixed fluids off the skin, and each stroke sent a pulse through my cock that traveled up my spine and settled in the base of my skull like a warm ache.

“You’ve done this before,” I said. Not a question.

She froze mid-stroke. Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut in concentration, opened and looked up at me. The panic in them was immediate.

“Eight times with Aldric,” I continued, keeping my voice conversational, almost bored. “You’ve had practice. It shows. You know how to use your tongue.”