Chapter 185: Bedtime +18 Enri, Prim. Arche, Renner. Alicia, Angelica. Night, Albedo, Oriax.

You leave Mira's room and descend toward the main hall, intending to check whether anyone else requires your attention before turning in for the night. The corridor is dim, most candles guttered low. The manor has settled into its late-night quiet, the distant murmur of Unseen Servants clearing the last dinner dishes the only sound.

Two figures wait at a doorway ahead. Prim stands with her hands clasped behind her back, pink hair tumbling over her sheer dress, her expression bright with mischief. Enri flanks her, green eyes catching the candlelight, her sundress exchanged for a simple sleeping shift that clings to her curves.

"There you are," Prim says, stepping forward and taking your hand. "We have been waiting."

Enri takes your other hand. "Prim insisted."

"I did not insist," Prim protests, tugging you toward her room. "I merely suggested that since we are paired tomorrow, we should practice tonight."

Enri laughs softly. "That is insisting."

Prim's room is warm and softly lit, a single candle burning beside her bed. She pulls you inside and Enri follows, closing the door with a quiet click. The two women exchange a glance that carries some unspoken agreement.

Prim reaches up and wraps her arms around your neck, pressing her body against yours. Her sheer pink dress hides nothing, the fabric so thin you can feel the heat of her skin through it. She tilts her face up, pink hair spilling across your chest.

"My turn first," she whispers, and kisses you.

Her mouth is soft and eager, tasting faintly of the honeyed wine from dinner. She melts against you, her breasts pressing through the gossamer fabric, her hips rolling gently. You hold her waist and she sighs into the kiss, her fingers threading through your hair.

When Prim finally releases you, breathless and flushed, Enri steps forward. She is taller than Prim, more solid, her green eyes steady with quiet confidence. She places her hands on your chest and rises on her toes to kiss you. Enri's kiss is slower, deeper, her tongue sliding against yours with unhurried certainty. Her body presses flush against you, warm and yielding.

"Mm," she murmurs against your lips. "I missed this today."

They take turns. Prim pulls you onto the bed first, straddling your lap with her dress bunched around her waist, grinding against you while Enri watches from beside the pillow, her shift riding up her thighs. Prim's kisses grow more desperate, her breath hitching as your hands find her hips and guide her movements.

Then Enri. She crawls over you, green eyes dark with want, and lowers herself onto your mouth. Her taste floods your senses as she rocks against your tongue, her fingers tangled in your hair, soft moans escaping her lips. Prim lies beside you, watching Enri's face with open fascination.

They trade back and forth. Prim on your mouth, her thighs trembling. Enri riding your fingers while Prim kisses her neck. Prim arching against your hand while Enri holds her from behind, whispering encouragement.

It is unhurried and sweet. No urgency. Just two women who want your attention and take turns receiving it, their laughter and sighs mingling in the candlelit room.

When they are finally satisfied, Prim curls against your left side and Enri against your right. Their breathing slows in tandem. Prim's fingers trace lazy patterns on your chest.

"Tomorrow," Prim murmurs sleepily, "Enri and I are going to talk about the village. She has ideas."

Enri makes a sound of agreement, already half-asleep. "The chief position. I think I will accept. Renner was right."

You cast Prestidigitation over both of them and settle back, their warmth pressed against you on either side.

You ease yourself from between Prim and Enri. Prim murmurs something unintelligible and rolls toward the warm space you vacated, her pink hair spilling across the pillow. Enri's arm drapes over Prim's waist instinctively, pulling the smaller woman closer. Their breathing synchronizes within moments, two bodies tangled together in the candlelit room.

You dress silently and slip into the corridor. The manor sleeps around you, its magical wards humming at the edge of your perception. You descend to the main hall, where the fire has burned to embers. Two figures sit close together on the bench nearest the hearth, speaking in low voices that cease the moment you appear.

Arche looks up first, her violet eyes catching the dying light. She wears a simple nightgown, her pale blue hair loose around her shoulders. Renner sits beside her, golden hair unbound, her dark blue gown exchanged for a white sleeping shift that makes her look younger than her years.

"We were wondering if you would come," Arche says, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

Renner tilts her head. "Taking everyone in pairs is a decent idea to keep up with the numbers."

"Which room have you decided on?" you ask.

Arche and Renner exchange a glance. Some silent communication passes between them.

"Mine," Arche decides. "It is closer."

Renner stands and takes your hand without prompting. Arche follows, her fingers finding your other hand. The three of you ascend the stairs, your footsteps quiet on the stone.

Arche's room is warm and lived-in. Books stacked on every surface. A half-finished magical diagram pinned to the wall. The bed is large enough for three.

You close the door and step in front of them.

You begin with Arche. Your fingers find the ties of her nightgown, loosening them one by one, pulling the fabric down her shoulders deliberately slow. She shivers as the cool air touches her skin, her violet eyes fixed on yours. The gown pools at her feet, revealing her slender body, small breasts with pale pink nipples already hardening, the gentle curve of her hips.

Then Renner. You lift the hem of her white shift, drawing it upward over her head. She raises her arms obediently, golden hair cascading free. Her body is slight, almost fragile-looking, her breasts barely more than swells beneath her collarbone, her waist narrow, her skin porcelain-pale.

You guide Arche onto the bed first. She lies back, thighs parted, her breathing already quickened. You lower your mouth between her legs, her fingers threading through your hair. Arche's body responds with generous warmth, her hips rolling against your tongue, soft moans escaping her lips.

While you work, your hand finds Renner. She kneels beside you, and your fingers slide between her thighs, stroking her slowly. She bites her lip, golden eyes half-closed, her body trembling at each touch.

Arche comes first, her back arching, a cry tearing from her throat. You draw out her pleasure until she pushes weakly at your shoulders.

You turn to Renner. She lies back, her golden hair fanned across the pillow, her expression vulnerable in a way she would never allow in public. You lower your mouth to her and she inhales sharply, her thighs clamping around your head. Her climax builds slowly, her fingers twisting in the sheets, until she breaks with a shuddering moan that she muffles against her own wrist.

You return to Arche for a second round, your hand still working Renner beside her. Arche comes faster this time, her voice rising in pitch. Then Renner again, her body more sensitive, her second peak crashing through her with barely any warning.

You cast clean them both and pull the blankets up. Arche curls against Renner's side, her blue eyes already heavy.

"Tomorrow," Renner whispers, "will the twins want to hear about the princess again?"

"That is your story to tell," you say.

Renner's lips curve. Something genuine. Something maskless.

You leave Arche and Renner tangled together beneath the blankets, their breathing already deep and synchronized. The corridor stretches silent before you, candles burned low in their sconces. The manor has settled into its late-night stillness, the only sound the distant hum of magical wards and the soft padding of Unseen Servants clearing the last traces of the evening.

The main hall is nearly empty. Embers glow in the hearth, casting the room in warm orange shadows. Two figures remain. Alicia sits upright on the bench nearest the fire, her blue bikini armor catching the dying light, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. She watches you descend the stairs with open expectation, her athletic frame tense with anticipation.

Angelica stands apart, near the doorway to the kitchen. Her thick robe is wrapped tight around her body, her blonde hair pulled back in a hasty braid. Her hands clutch the fabric at her chest. When your eyes find her, she straightens immediately, like a soldier caught loitering.

"I was not certain," Angelica says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Whether I should go to bed without being told."

Alicia rolls her eyes with fond exasperation. "You do not need permission to sleep, Angelica."

"In my old life I did," Angelica replies, and the simplicity of it silences Alicia's protest.

You cross the hall toward them. "Alicia's room," you say. "Both of you."

Alicia rises immediately, her blue eyes bright. Angelica hesitates for only a moment before following, her fingers finding the hem of your sleeve as you ascend the stairs together.

Alicia's room reflects her origins. A training sword mounted on the wall beside a shield bearing faded holy marks. Armor pieces arranged with military precision on a stand. The bed is large and sturdy, built to withstand movement more vigorous than sleep.

You close the door and face them. "Clothes off."

Alicia removes her bikini armor swiftly, each piece set aside with the care of a knight maintaining her equipment. Her body is athletic and strong, toned muscles visible beneath sun-kissed skin, her breasts full and firm. She stands without shame, blue eyes steady.

Angelica unwraps her robe more slowly, her fingers trembling. Beneath it she wears only a simple sleeping shift, which she pulls over her head with visible effort. Her body is softer than Alicia's, pale and curvy, her breasts heavy, her thighs pressed together as if she could hide herself through sheer will.

“Beautiful.” you say quietly to the both of them.

You guide Angelica onto the bed first. Kissing softly as she lies back, her breathing shallow, her golden eyes fixes on the ceiling. You trail your down between her thighs and she gasps, her fingers twisting in the sheets. Her body responds despite her nervousness, wetness gathering quickly, her hips beginning to move in small instinctual circles.

While you work, Alicia kneels beside you. You reach for her without looking, pulling her close, your free hand finding her breast. She presses into your palm with a quiet moan.

Angelica comes with a sharp cry, her back arching, her thighs clamping around your head. You ease her through the aftershocks until she pushes weakly at your shoulders, panting.

Then Alicia. She lies back with her legs spread, her expression open and hungry. "Just this," she says. "Simple."

You enter her in one smooth thrust and she groans, her legs wrapping around your waist immediately. You fuck her with steady, deep strokes while Angelica watches from beside the pillow, her golden eyes wide with fascination. Alicia's first climax comes quickly, her body clenching around you, her voice rising. You continue. Her second follows before the first has fully faded, her nails raking your back.

You return to Angelica for a second round. This time she is less rigid, her body already softened. She comes apart faster, a breathless moan escaping her lips as her fingers find your hair.

You finish inside Alicia, both of you gasping. She holds you close afterward, her strong arms wrapped around your back, her breath hot against your neck.

You cast clean the both of them and pull the blankets up. Angelica curls against Alicia's side instinctively, her head resting on the knight's shoulder.

"Angelica," you say, standing. "In the morning, you will find something in Alicia's wardrobe. Choose what speaks to you."

Angelica's cheeks flush crimson. Alicia laughs softly, pulling the softer woman closer.

"I will help her," Alicia promises.

You dress silently and leave Alicia's room. The manor sleeps around you, every candle guttered low, every door closed. You sweep through the corridors with supernatural awareness, checking each occupied room. Sleeping breaths. Heartbeats steady. Not a single soul remains awake.

The main hall stands empty, embers dying in the hearth. You step through the Dungeon Passageway to the Lucifuge estate. The manor is quiet. You find Grayfia's bedroom first, pushing the door open gently. She sleeps curled on her side, silver hair spread across the pillow, her breathing deep and even. The magical payment from her defloration still settling into her devil physiology.

Oriax is not in her room. Her bed is made, untouched.

You step back through the Dungeon passageway to Nazarick and make your way through the ninth floor. Albedo's bedroom occupies a full wing reserved for the Overseer, and as you approach the double doors following her presence, voices drift through the wood.

"He will come tonight," Albedo says, her tone certain. "He always does."

Oriax's voice follows, lower, carrying the warmth of someone speaking about a shared secret. "He spent the entire evening servicing his collection. By now he will want something familiar."

"Familiar," Albedo repeats, and you can hear the smile in it. "Is that what you call yourself?"

"I call myself what I am. His first devil. His oldest lover in this world."

"His first devil, perhaps. His oldest lover? That title belongs to me."

You push the door open.

Albedo sits on the edge of her bed, white silk nightgown clinging to her generous curves, her golden eyes bright with amusement. Oriax reclines against the headboard beside her, wearing nothing but a thin black shift that barely reaches her thighs, her rejuvenated body appearing barely older than her daughter. Both women look at you with identical expressions of smug satisfaction.

"There he is," Oriax says. "We were just discussing you."

"Discussing how to welcome you," Albedo corrects. She rises from the bed with fluid grace, her nightgown sliding off one shoulder. "I believe I mentioned tying you to the headboard."

"I suggested something more collaborative," Oriax adds, swinging her legs off the bed. "Two devils working together."

You let them lead.

Albedo's hands find your chest first, pushing you backward onto the bed. Oriax circles behind you, her fingers threading through your hair, her lips finding your ear. They move in concert, two powerful beings who have found common ground in their devotion to you.

Albedo straddles your waist, pulling her nightgown over her head. Her breasts hang heavy, her dark skin luminous in the candlelight. She sinks onto you with a moan that echoes through the chamber. Oriax kneels beside your head, her shift discarded, and guides your mouth between her thighs while Albedo rides you with slow, rolling movements.

They trade positions. Oriax on her back, legs wrapped around your waist, her silver-white hair fanned across Albedo's pillow. Albedo beside her, your fingers buried inside her while you thrust into Oriax. The devil mother's climax comes first, her body clenching around you, her voice rising in pitch.

Albedo takes her turn next, mounting you reverse, her back arched, her hips working in circles while Oriax watches with half-lidded eyes and strokes her own recovering body.

The hours blur. Albedo finishes twice more. Oriax three times. They take turns with your mouth, your hands, your cock. They whisper to each other across your body, comparing notes, laughing softly at shared observations about your preferences.

When dawn approaches, Albedo lies sprawled across your chest, her golden eyes drowsy with satisfaction. Oriax curls against your side, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your stomach.

"Return to them," Albedo murmurs. "Wake them gently. We will be here when you need us."

You clean both of them, kiss each forehead, and step through the Passageway back to Carne Manor. The first light of morning approaches the windows. Time to wake the household.