Chapter 898 - 897- Taken the Wives for Long Night

Chapter 898: Chapter 897- Taken the Wives for Long Night

Viktor sat back among his wives and listened to his one-month-old sons debate culinary iteration, and he understood, with the calm of a man accepting the weather, that these were not normal children. There was no path back to normal children. There was only adapting to the little bombs he had made.

"Alright, my champs," he said. "Tell me about the eggs. From the beginning. Father is listening."

And for the first hour of their lives, both boys had their father’s complete, unrepentant attention, and they spoke of egg viscosity and heat distribution and the correct moment of removal from the pan, and Viktor asked questions at all the right places, and the twins glowed.

Night came down over Millbrook soft and silver.

In the master bedroom, both twins slept in the crook of Viktor’s arms, one against each bicep, their tiny fists curled, their spectacles folded on the nightstand. Their faces had gone slack and round and ordinary. Milk breath. Small snores.

Viktor looked down at them for a long time.

"They look like babies now," he murmured. "They are asleep."

Mira, seated beside him, laughed quietly. "I was also not ready for that, you know. The first one. Do you know how much study our first one is doing? He borrowed three books from my office. Borrowed. He left a receipt."

"Yeah." Viktor shifted the smaller twin to a better angle. "You must be having a hard time handling his little brother."

Mira’s laugh turned wicked. "That boy? That boy is in the tower right now, telling anyone who will listen about how he is training so that he is not left behind by his few-month-old brother. He has a regimen, Viktor. He showed me a regimen. Written. In crayon, but written."

Viktor chuckled, and the sound rolled low in the dark room, and both sleeping boys stirred faintly at the familiar vibration and settled again.

"By the way," he said. "Why are they angry?"

He lifted his eyes across the bedroom.

They were all there, gathered like a jury in the moonlight. Bella, silver-eared, round-bellied, arms crossed, tail flicking. Kaida beside her, twin-swollen and stern, though her sternness kept sliding off her face whenever his eyes touched her. Elara, the pink-haired succubus, pregnant and glowing faintly in the dark, wings folded tight with irritation. Vivian, the thick, green-haired milf of an elf, one eyebrow arched, hand on her belly like a judge’s gavel at rest. And Olivia in her ceremonial dress, holy office forgotten at the bedroom door, looking at him with the special reproach only a priestess can bless.

All of them. Hands on their bellies. All wearing that look.

The one that said: nine months of swollen ankles and not one letter.

Helena and Mira rose from the bed behind him. Helena’s hand landed on his shoulder, gentle as a landslide.

"Give him to me," she said softly.

Viktor surrendered the elder twin. Mira gathered the younger. The boys were carried to the great cradle by the window with its hanging charms and its soundproofing glyphs, tucked in by four maternal hands, and then both mothers turned back to him, and their faces had changed into something slyer.

"You need to give the small little bombs a few siblings," Helena said. "Just like them. To play with."

Viktor chuckled. The sound was different this time. Lower. He rose from the bed, slowly, and turned to face his wives.

The moonlight fell full across him, and they flinched, all of them, one after another like candles guttering.

Above his head, translucent horns began to materialize. Pink shading into purple, crystalline, catching the moon and staining it warm. His eyes kindled amethyst, a slow brightening glow like lanterns behind curtains. The aura rolled off him in slow waves, thick and sweet and suffocating, and every wife in the room felt it land on her skin like a heated blanket soaked in wine.

His cock stirred against the towel. The towel tented, and strained, and gave up, sliding off his hips to the floor.

The reaction was immediate and shameless.

Elara moaned first, her wings flaring, her knees pressing together as her control simply left the building. Bella gasped, her thighs trembling, a dark bloom of wet spreading across her thin sleeping shorts. Kaida grabbed her own belly with both hands, breathing in shudders, her nightgown clinging between her legs. Vivian and Olivia clutched each other for exactly one heartbeat before their composure abandoned them too, both of them moaning softly, both flushing, both of their crotches going hot and soaked as their bodies betrayed every vow of sternness they had rehearsed on the stairs.

Five pussies, leaking in unison, filling the moonlit room with the thick honeyed musk of his influence.

"You are..." Olivia whispered, one hand against her own soaked thigh, her voice breaking. "You are doing this on purpose..."

"Yes," Viktor said, pleasantly.

He crossed ten meters in a blink, and both of his hands came down flat on the first two bellies he reached, Elara’s and Kaida’s, and he lifted, palms taking the swollen weight up off their hips, drawing the burden away like a boat’s ballast. Both women gasped aloud, the lightness going to their heads like wine, and his middle finger slid lower on each, finding the wet heat beneath, resting there, patient as a promise.

"Well?" he said, smiling down at them with glowing amethyst eyes, horns bright, cock standing thick and heavy between their trembling bodies. "Should we go somewhere private for a long, long marathon? What do you say, my wives?"

They trembled. All of them. The anger, the nine months, the unreceived letters, all of it dissolved into a single unified hunger, and five voices answered him at once, moaning his name.

He snapped his fingers.

The bedroom stood empty.

Only the twins slept on by the window, and on the far wall, painted in silver moonlight, the shadows of six vanished bodies swayed for a moment before the light closed over them.