Chapter 34: Expanding Power - ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠6

As Sirel's footsteps approached, Jiha's thoughts raced.

"It doesn't really matter to me, but..."

Even if Sirel found out about him and Enril, it wouldn't truly be a problem for him, would it?

But for Enril, the situation was entirely different.

The woman who had been struggling frantically to rise let out a stifled moan. Jiha was still buried inside her, pulsing intermittently with the aftershocks.

"Ah... I can't..."

Her mind screamed at her to move, but the lingering daze of her climax held her consciousness in a fog.

After a moment of deliberation, Jiha slowly withdrew himself.

"Hnng..."

Watching Enril's trembling back, Jiha tsked.

"You don't look like you can run. Just stay still."

He turned Enril onto her side, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and drew the blanket up. Even if Sirel pulled the curtain back for a look, all she would see was Jiha's back.

"What..."

Enril's reaction was pure surprise; she clearly hadn't expected this. Her wide blue eyes blinking slowly, owl-like, were unexpectedly endearing.

Jiha opened the window beside the bed and readied himself.

"She's here."

Click.

The door swung open, and Sirel walked in.

"Ah, I'm stuffed. Jiha, are you sleeping?"

"No."

Sirel let out a cheerful laugh at his answer.

"I brought some bread and oatmeal. Eat it while it's warm."

"Just leave it there. I'll have it soon."

"It won't taste as good once it gets cold."

In Jiha's arms, where he answered with perfect composure, Enril had gone completely rigid. If Sirel caught her pressed naked against him in bed, Enril was certain she could never face the world again. She would sooner kill herself.

Jiha read those thoughts, that silent panic, as clearly as if she'd screamed them aloud. She was so tense she couldn't even draw a proper breath.

'So, being discovered frightens her more than lying with me.'

The situation was awkward, but Jiha wasn't shielding Enril out of the goodness of his heart. When a good man commits a single bad deed, everyone lines up to call him a hypocrite. Let a bad man do a single good deed, and people applaud his redemption.

'Well, I'm merely pretending to do her a kindness here...'

For Jiha, it was a transaction with no downside.

From beyond the bed, the sound of Sirel bustling about drifted over. Her voice took on a playful lilt. "Come to think of it, what's with all the sweat in here? What on earth were you up to by yourself while I was gone?"

"Just worked up a bit of a sweat on my own."

Jiha delivered the smooth, untroubled response, and Enril showed a flicker of relief. Noticing that reaction, Jiha changed his mind.

'Shall I give her a little taste of danger?'

The arm he'd wrapped around her from behind suddenly seized the underside of her breast.

"...?!"

Enril jolted violently, her body locking up like a board. Ignoring the glare she threw over her shoulder, Jiha kneaded her breast exactly as he pleased. The soft flesh overflowed between his fingers with every squeeze.

After thoroughly enjoying himself, he seemed to release her chest, only to twist her nipple sharply.

"Hn..."

Relieved to have his hand off her breast, Enril spasmed in shock as her body twisted involuntarily. A small, strangled moan escaped.

"Did you say something?"

Sirel asked, the sounds of her tidying up still carrying over.

"No, nothing."

Jiha played innocent. Enril fixed him with a resentful glare before her brow crumpled in helpless frustration. His fingers were toying with her peak.

"..."

If she made a sound, Sirel would discover everything. Suppressing the rising pleasure by sheer will, Enril clamped both hands over her mouth.

'This is rather entertaining...'

A different kind of interest stirred in him, distinct from simply overpowering her. Having already finished once, Jiha was quite collected. As he kneaded her breast with persistent attention, Enril's breathing began to heat again. Her body, already driven to the edge of tears by one climax, now struggled against the returning waves of pleasure.

Both hands still clamped over her mouth, she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠turned her head and shot Jiha a look of pure reproach and fury. Jiha merely smiled leisurely, caressing her breast before trailing his hand downward toward her lower belly.

"...!"

Enril quickly seized his wrist. Without Mana, though. Unleashing her power would escalate things beyond any hope of Sirel missing it.

As Enril held him back desperately, Jiha ran his tongue slowly down the nape of her neck. The sudden, wet sensation grazing her skin sent a strange shiver through her body, and the strength reflexively drained from her arms. In that moment of weakness, Jiha reached for her cleft.

"Hng..."

His fingers stroked the sensitive nub at the apex of her slit. Enril choked back a moan and sealed her mouth shut again. Caught in a position where she had to stifle every sound, she had no ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠free hands to fend him off.

Watching her struggle so desperately not to let any sound of pleasure slip out, Jiha began to enjoy himself at his own slow pace.

With one hand, he rolled that small bud between his fingers; with the other, he gently kneaded a full breast. As his lips brushed light kisses along the nape of her neck and the curve of her skin, strength began to surge back into his manhood. His vampiric Mana made it that much easier to stiffen.

Tormented without respite by Jiha embracing her from behind, Enril attempted the barest minimum of resistance, curling her body inward more and more. But that only gave his hands easier access.

His recovering erection pressed firmly between the cheeks of her rear. Prodding a woman's firm backside with a rigid shaft brought its own strange, particular pleasure.

"?!"

Horrified, Enril curled herself tighter, but Jiha only gave a low, amused laugh and began a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. Pressed naked against a world-class beauty too tense to make a single sound, he leisurely savored the sensation of rubbing himself against her rear.

Powerless to resist him and unable to cry out, a tremor rippled through the corners of Enril's eyes. She had no choice but to keep her hands clamped over her mouth. Wrapping an arm around her slender waist, Jiha drew his hips back only to press forward again, burying himself repeatedly into the soft flesh of her backside. As if stamping a mark of ownership onto his possession.

"..."

Struggling to endure, Enril finally seemed to decide this was impossible, and she changed tactics, reaching a hand behind her. She seized the shaft grinding against her rear without preamble. Jiha frowned at the sudden grasp.

Did she not understand who was in command here?

Did he need to make it perfectly clear?

As Jiha's expression shifted toward something dangerous, Enril flinched and averted her eyes. Cowed by the intensity of his gaze, she had instinctively folded, signaling she had no intention of challenging his authority.

Seeing her lower her eyes of her own accord, Jiha's mood eased. The haughty, arrogant dark elf now automatically averted her gaze for him. The hierarchy stood firmly established.

Yet Enril's hand still held his rigid member, refusing to let go. Jiha was just beginning to wonder why when... she started to move her hand in slow, measured strokes. A current of pleasure traveled up his spine as the hand gripping him began to glide back and forth.

"..."

Not having anticipated this in the slightest, Jiha stared at Enril with considerable surprise. She had to know he was watching, yet she kept her gaze fixed coolly and haughtily on the window. But her hand moved slowly, with careful attention not to make a sound, kneading and stroking him in a steady rhythm.

"...Hmm."

This was a defensive measure Enril had devised after serious deliberation. Her reasoning was straightforward: once his manhood was satisfied, it would need time to recover, and he would stop using her body as his plaything. Jiha, however, simply broke into a smirk. Enril was servicing him of her own accord; what reason was there to refuse? Both of his hands were still free.

His hand brushed across Enril's smooth lower belly and pressed down. The hand stroking him faltered. Jiha's spendings, the load he had pumped into her, were still pooled inside. As he caressed her lower stomach, rubbing gently to stimulate her, the thick fluid accumulated within began to leak out.

"Ugh."

A tremor ran through Enril as she swallowed a moan. She covered her mouth again, staring at Jiha with eyes full of resentment. As if asking why he persisted when she was already tending to him with her own hand. Her look begged him to stop tormenting her.

Jiha played dumb and continued to bother her relentlessly. The touch of her hand on his shaft was clumsy, rough at the edges. But the true satisfaction was psychological: Enril was doing this by her own choice. At Jiha's grin, Enril seemed to furrow her brow, and then she gave him a sharp, punishing squeeze.

"...Ngh."

"What's wrong?"

Sirel called out from beyond the curtain at the sound of Jiha's grunt. Startled, Enril relaxed the strength in her hand, but Jiha had already roughly shoved his index finger deep inside her cleft. The violent intruder made Enril writhe; a moan slipped from her.

"Ah..."

Her eyes flew wide open at the whisper of sound that escaped through her fingers. Beyond the bed, the rustle of Sirel rising filtered in.

"Jiha, is something the matter?"

"Just coughed a little."

At Jiha's excuse, which barely qualified as one, Sirel's footsteps padded closer to the bed.

"You really must not be feeling well. This is why you should drink in moderation. Let me take a look at you."

"..."

Sirel approached. Enril froze, not daring a single motion.

Lying down, Jiha rotated his body a full one hundred eighty degrees and yanked the blanket right up to his shoulders. Now Enril, curled up tightly, would be hidden entirely behind his back. Since simply lying on his side looked unnatural, Jiha grabbed a book that had been lying by the head of the bed and flipped it open without a second thought. It was the book Enril had brought.

Fwip.

"Are you hurting somewhere?"

Sirel, having pulled the curtain aside and stepped in, spoke with genuine concern. Jiha kept his eyes fixed on the book as he answered.

"Just a bit of a hangover setting in, that's all."

"Hmm... If you're not feeling well, why did you leave the window open?"

Sirel went over and closed it.

Even hidden under the blanket, the shape of a second person would be noticeable under close inspection. To divert Sirel's attention, Jiha threw out a line.

"Thanks for bringing the food, but I don't have much appetite right now. I'll have to eat it later."

"Alright. Do you have a fever or something..."

Sirel sounded worried as she reached out to press her hand against Jiha's forehead.

"You're drenched in sweat. Let's wipe you down a little."

"It's fine, I can handle it..."

"When it comes to your body, you listen to the healer."

Sirel gave a small laugh and used a towel to dry his sweat-soaked hair. After wiping down to his cheek, she shook her head.

"Your temperature seems a little higher ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than normal. Should I prepare a fever reducer?"

"It'll pass with time..."

Jiha stopped mid-sentence and flinched.

Schlik.

Hidden behind him, the hand Enril had pressed against his back started to move. She'd taken hold of his erection and was now stroking him, slowly, back and forth.

'...This bitch.'

If this situation was discovered, the one who'd be utterly fucked wasn't Jiha—it was Enril. What on earth was going through her head?

"Why did you stop talking?"

Sirel tilted her head curiously, then sat down lightly beside Jiha's pillow. Her backside, hugged by a tight skirt, filled his immediate line of sight.

Even now, Enril was using both hands to massage his shaft. Speaking to the woman in front of him while being fondled by the one at his back. Blood rushed reflexively to Jiha's groin at the bizarre turn. As if sensing the surge, Enril's hands picked up speed. The soft press of her full breasts against his sweat-damp back transmitted a voluptuous friction.

"Jiha?"

"...The part I was reading was interesting."

"Come to think of it, you've read quite a lot. What are you looking at?"

Sirel took the book from Jiha's hand and opened it, only to blink in rapid confusion.

"Uh... Um."

After flipping through a few pages, a deeply flustered look settled on Sirel's face. She set the book down and rose from her seat.

"T-take your time. I'll step out for a bit, so..."

As Sirel hurried out of the infirmary with quick steps, Jiha, wondering what that was all about, checked the book.

<The Love Adventures of Pensaro Vol. 4>

It was a famous erotic novel aimed at a male audience.

Why in the world had Enril brought this? As the thought formed, a scheme clicked into place in Jiha's mind. She'd used it as a pretext to send the librarian away so she could be alone with Yura.

"...Anyway."

Frowning, Jiha pulled the blanket aside. Enril, still curled up, stared up at him with startled eyes.

"Had your fun?"

If she meant to claw her way back up, he would just have to push her right back down.