Chapter 745: Someone at the Door

Chapter 745: Someone at the Door

Leon had finished his report to Ji less than an hour ago. Loriel had checked him once more afterward, and her last treatment had eased the remaining pull along his left side. He had tested a full circulation and stretched without pain before she finally let him go.

The maps and sealed notes still littered the low table, but the second the last messenger left, the air in the room changed.

Ira came through the door like she owned it. Red hair loose, red eyes already burning, she crossed the floor in three strides, grabbed the front of his coat, and shoved him hard onto the bed. The frame groaned under the force.

"You’re home," she growled. "Finally."

Seraphine pushed the door almost shut behind her. Purple hair still neat, purple eyes calm—until she saw him lying there with Ira leaning over him. Then the composure cracked. She set her outer robe aside, kicked off her boots, and walked straight to the bed.

Leon looked between them. "Both of you."

"Both of us," Seraphine said, voice low and certain. "We decided. Tonight you’re ours."

She bent to kiss him as Ira caught his coat again. Before Leon could reach for the privacy wards, they gave a quiet pulse. Someone had stopped outside the narrow opening of the door.

Loriel.

He closed the door with a thought and engaged its lock. The opaque sight-screen settled over the room, sealing away both sight and sound. Whatever she had caught in that brief moment, she would see no more.

Her familiar presence lingered beyond the wards. Leon noticed, then let his attention return to the two women beside him. He could speak to Loriel later, alone.

Ira was already tearing at his coat. Seraphine went for his boots, then his belt. Their hands were greedy, urgent—ripping fabric, yanking cloth down his arms, stripping him bare until he lay naked against the sheets. Neither of them looked away. When the last piece of clothing hit the floor, Ira made a raw, hungry sound and climbed on after him.

"First," she said, and dropped between his thighs.

Leon’s cock sprang free—twelve thick, heavy inches of veiny meat, the shaft ridged with dark veins, the fat head already flushed and leaking. Ira’s eyes locked on it. She wrapped both hands around the base, barely able to close her fingers, and swallowed him as deep as she could on the first stroke. Gluck. Slurp. Gluck. Her throat bulged around the thick girth. Spit ran down her chin and over his balls as she forced more of that twelve-inch cock into her mouth.

Seraphine settled beside them, one hand braced on Leon’s chest, the other cupping and rolling his heavy balls while Ira choked herself on him. Purple hair spilled across his stomach. She leaned in and licked a long, wet stripe up the veiny underside every time Ira pulled back, tongue tracing every ridge, tasting the thick precum that leaked from the slit.

"Special," Seraphine murmured against the hot skin. "We both remember how it tastes."

Leon’s hands fisted in their hair—red and purple. He didn’t force them. He just held on while they shared his cock like animals in heat. Ira deep-throated until her eyes watered and her makeup ran. Seraphine licked and kissed the base, sucking on the thick vein that pulsed under her tongue. They traded places without ever touching each other. When Leon finally came, it was with a guttural snarl. His cock jerked hard, flooding Ira’s throat with thick, hot ropes. Spurt. Spurt. Spurt. She swallowed greedily, throat working around every pulse. What spilled past her lips Seraphine caught with her tongue, then both women licked him clean—long, filthy strokes over the still-hard twelve-inch shaft until not a single drop remained.

"Still warm," Ira rasped, wiping her chin. "Still fucking ours."

They didn’t give him a second to breathe.

Seraphine stripped out of most of her clothes but left the last thin, soaked layer of innerwear clinging to her cunt. She turned onto her hands and knees, purple hair falling forward, and looked back over her shoulder with pure need.

"Like this first."

Leon moved behind her. He hooked two fingers into the wet fabric, yanked it aside, and rubbed the fat, veiny head of his cock along her dripping folds—schlick, schlick, schlick—letting every thick ridge drag over her clit. Seraphine’s breath hitched into a moan. Her hips shoved back hard. When she came from the friction alone it was with a sharp, broken cry, her juices flooding over his cock and soaking the fabric darker.

Only then did he thrust in.

One brutal stroke buried all twelve thick inches to the hilt. Seraphine’s back arched hard. He fucked her like an animal—deep, punishing, the wet slap of his hips against her ass loud and filthy—while his free hand found the base of the plug still buried in her and twisted it. Her moan turned continuous, almost a desperate hum. Ira watched for a moment, then climbed up beside them and presented her own soaked cunt, bigger ass high, heavy tits hanging.

Leon kept one hand locked on Seraphine’s hip and used the other to finger Ira open—two fingers, then three, curling hard against the spot that made her thighs shake and her red eyes roll. Ira came first, squirting hard across his wrist with a raw scream. Seraphine followed seconds later, her tight cunt clamping down on his cock like a vice.

They rotated without mercy.

Ira climbed on next, her heavier body settling onto his twelve-inch cock with a long, guttural groan. Her bigger tits bounced hard with every drop of her hips; Leon sat up, buried his face between them, and sucked one thick nipple while she rode him like she was trying to break him. When he lay back, Seraphine straddled his face, thighs framing his head, and ground her dripping cunt against his mouth while Ira used his cock. The two of them took what they wanted, kissing him in turn, whispering filthy demands against his lips.

When Ira finally lifted off, his cum already leaking from her stretched cunt, she turned around and presented her bigger, rounder ass. The plug came out with a wet plop. Leon coated his thick, veiny cock in the mess of her earlier release and pressed the fat head against her tight hole. Ira pushed back hard, forcing herself onto him inch by thick inch until her ass was flush against his hips and all twelve inches were buried inside her. The stretch tore a raw, broken sound from her throat. He fucked her ass with the same primal rhythm, one hand reaching around to rub her swollen clit, the other braced on the bed as her bigger cheeks jiggled with every brutal thrust.

Seraphine watched, eyes dark, then took her own turn on her back, legs spread wide. Leon pulled out of Ira, flipped Seraphine, and buried his cock in her tighter ass next. She was tighter, the burn sharper; she breathed through it, purple eyes locked on his, and then started rocking to meet every deep stroke. He fingered her dripping cunt at the same time. Dual stimulation wrecked her. She came twice in quick succession, voice cracking into screams, before he flooded her ass with another thick load.

They didn’t stop.

Cowgirl again—Seraphine this time, controlled at first until the pleasure stripped every trace of composure and she was bouncing hard on his cock, purple hair wild. Missionary for Ira so he could watch her heavy tits bounce and suck dark marks into the soft flesh while he pounded her cunt. Doggy for both of them in turn, fabric ripped open where it still clung, plugs long discarded, both holes used until the sheets were soaked and their voices were wrecked. Every time he came they drank it—directly from the source, from each other’s skin only to clean his seed, from the slow drip out of cunt or ass. They licked his twelve-inch cock clean every single time, commenting on the heat, the thick taste, the familiar energy that settled warm and addictive in their stomachs and left them even hungrier.

Hours blurred into pure heat. The only sounds left were wet flesh, broken moans, and the occasional low laugh when one of them recovered enough to demand more. Leon took them both until their legs trembled and their bodies went pliant and spent. When the last orgasm finally left him empty, he collapsed between them, one arm around each.

Ira curled into his left side, red hair stuck to her damp neck, bigger tits pressed against his ribs. Seraphine settled against his right, purple hair fanned across his chest, one leg thrown over his. Their hands found him even in exhaustion—Ira’s fingers resting over his heart, Seraphine’s tangled with his.

A soft glow of mana left his palm and washed over all three of them, cleaning sweat and cum until their skin was warm and clean again. The sheets stayed ruined. Neither woman cared.

Later, when the three of them finally rose, dressed in loose clothes, and stepped out into the corridor for water, they crossed paths with Loriel near the archive stairs. She offered an overly casual explanation about moving her garden trays. It could have waited until morning. Her voice was steady. Her eyes were not.

Leon remembered how long her presence had remained outside the wards after the screen closed. Nearly a quarter of an hour, before he had felt her move away.

"Of course," he said. "We can look at the beds tomorrow."

He met her gaze for a moment longer. Loriel went still, then color crept up her throat.

Leon continued past with Ira on one side and Seraphine on the other. He would keep the question until he could ask it privately.

Behind him, Loriel had forgotten to answer.

***