Side Story: Training Arc - Hoaran's Perspective (2)
...How long do I have to stay like this?
I wondered, still cradled in Hoaran's arms.
Hoaran had pulled me into her embrace just as the inquisition opened and I was on the verge of collapsing from a nosebleed. Thanks to her, I hadn't face-planted onto the ground, which was great—but staying hugged up like this was starting to feel awkward.
It wasn't that I disliked being in Hoaran's arms.
No way in hell I did.
The problem was that, pressed so close against her body, my rock-hard erection was brushing right up against her.
Hoaran either hadn't noticed or didn't care, because she was hugging me even tighter than before. But even if she wasn't bothered, I sure as shit was.
Whether it was from staying fully erect for so long or from all the pent-up load I'd been saving, every little graze against her body as she squeezed me harder sent shocks of stimulation straight through my dick. I felt like I was about to blow just from that.
I'd tried twisting away to avoid contact, but there was a limit, and my cock was way too goddamn massive for my efforts to make any difference.
If I pulled back any further, Hoaran would definitely notice something was off and get suspicious.
And then things would get awkward as fuck between us.
She already knew about my emissions, so she wouldn't call me a pervert or anything, but it'd still be mortifyingly embarrassing.
No helping it.
I regretted it a little, but I had to say something.
"Um, Mother? I'm okay now, so you can let go."
At my words, she looked at me with a slightly dazed expression, then startled and pulled away with a jerk.
The plush breasts that had been pressed against me until just now, the wonderful scent wafting from her—they all vanished in an instant, leaving that familiar pang of regret.
Still, whatever.
"S-Sorry. I held you too long."
Seeing her face flushed bright red as she stammered in a fluster more than made up for it.
And those tails swishing busily behind her—cute as hell.
"Ahem, anyway... The inquisition opening sooner than expected is a very good thing, so let's end today's training here. Get some solid rest."
Once she'd calmed down a bit, she cleared her throat and said that. I nodded.
Honestly, I felt better than before, but my head was still spinning. I wasn't in any shape for more training today.
Fucking exhausted, too.
The sun hadn't even set yet, so it was early, but damn if I didn't want to crash hard.
"But aren't we resting a lot lately?"
"Nonsense. Proper rest is part of training as well. Relentless drilling without respite may sound noble, but it's mere folly. So... speak not such words."
As she said that, Hoaran snapped her fingers.
Just like yesterday, a small cabin materialized before my eyes.
Fox Forest wasn't exactly cold, but it wasn't cozy enough for camping either. This was Hoaran's considerate touch.
I wondered if I'd be able to do stuff like this once I learned sorcery.
It'd be handy for taking Hoah out on trips somewhere far away.
Not that homebody Lilith or I were the type to go out much.
Anyway.
She'd insisted this much, so I didn't push back.
"Then I'll head in first."
"Yes, rest well."
I nodded at her words and stepped into the cabin.
Then I flung myself onto the ridiculously fluffy quilt waiting inside.
"...Gotta ask later if I can take this home."
Feeling the way superior texture compared to anything at my place, I drifted off to sleep just like that.
Watching Hanjo enter the cabin conjured by her sorcery, Hoaran let out a sigh.
"You truly have lost your mind, Hoaran..."
She murmured to herself.
When the inquisition opened and Hanjo bled from his nose.
His unexpectedly swift progress had been a shock, and embracing him as he nearly collapsed had been the right thing.
Up to that point, it had purely been worry for her disciple—her son.
But what had come after? What had she done?
The scent of blood from Hanjo in her arms.
Inhaling it had made her head fuzzy.
She'd felt the yokai instincts, the beastly urges, rising in her mind.
Human blood had always stirred yokai instincts since ancient times.
But she was a celestial fox who had suppressed such urges through cultivation for centuries.
So why in the world...?
She couldn't understand why she'd done such a thing.
Her mouth had voiced concern for his body, praise for his achievement—yet her own body had pulled him even closer.
There was only one reason.
Because it felt good.
Hugging Hanjo, smelling his scent, feeling his body heat—it had all felt so good.
"...We had certainly reached this point."
Murmuring to herself, Hoaran ran her hand over her navel.
She could still feel the sensation of Hanjo's manhood pressed against her there moments ago.
How enormous it had been, its tip reaching all the way up to her solar plexus.
Even through their clothes, the pulsing heat of it lingered vividly in her memory.
She knew it wasn't excitement directed at her.
She knew it was simply his Gift going haywire.
And yet, when that manhood had touched her body, the shame, the arousal, the thrill—she'd unwittingly rubbed herself against him.
Lust overriding worry.
Disgracefully, even knowing he was flustered and at a loss, she'd pretended not to notice.
While murmuring concerns for him, she'd savored the feel of his manhood against her, grinding her belly against it to prolong the sensation. Her face burned at the thought.
The first manhood she'd ever felt with her own body. And not just any—Hanjo's, her disciple, the boy she'd chosen as her son. The shame of having done such things just to feel it was unbearable; she couldn't even lift her head.
Part of her wanted to writhe on the dirt in mortification, knowing it was shameful.
No—hadn't what she'd done earlier been an even greater disgrace than that?
"Truly, you've gone utterly mad."
Her heat cycle hadn't even started yet.
And yet, just thinking about Hanjo's manhood pressed against her made her body heat up.
Why was she acting like this?
Unable to comprehend her own actions, Hoaran bit her lip.
Maybe she should use sorcery to delay her heat right now.
Even after reaching celestial fox status, she hadn't shed her bestial nature because suppressing it went against the natural order.
For a fox-born yokai like her, heat was a rightful duty, aligned with heaven's way.
Bearing life to continue the cycle was the natural task of any creature; defying it required near-impossible effort, even after eons of cultivation.
Had she achieved that, she would be called a divine fox, not a celestial one.
Thus, delaying an impending heat wasn't something Hoaran welcomed.
It defied the natural order, demanding a heavy price.
Instead of delaying, she'd be left unable to use even a tenth of her usual power, her condition deteriorating sharply.
But if she left things as they were, could she even control herself?
She feared she might succumb to desire and pounce on Hanjo.
Of course, she thought—no, she wanted to believe—such a thing wouldn't happen.
But these unprecedented precursors to her heat planted doubts.
Maybe it was better to swallow her pride a little than worry like this?
That was when it happened.
A breeze carried a sweet scent to her nose.
"This smell..."
Hanjo's scent.
No—more precisely, the scent from his semen.
The same one that had splashed onto her body.
Was Hanjo doing that inside the cabin? No.
The presence from the cabin was that of a sleeping human.
Besides, the scent wasn't from the cabin—it came from the heart of Fox Forest, by the lakeside.
So what the hell was this smell?
Thinking that, Hoaran moved as if entranced.
Reaching the lakeside, she followed the now-intensified aroma and soon spotted a pile of clothes bundled under a tree.
"These are..."
Hanjo's original clothes.
She'd wondered where he'd stashed them after changing into the ones she'd given him. Hidden here, of all places.
Torn and ragged from Laura's—the mosquito bitch's—attack, they were beyond salvageable as clothing.
He'd probably kept them hidden to discard on the way back.
"He should have told me; I would have disposed of them ages ago."
Whether to avoid troubling her or because he didn't want to hand over his underwear and such—who knew. But now that she'd found them, she waved her hand to dispose of them.
"......"
Why am I holding these?
Snapping to, she realized she had Hanjo's clothes in her hands.
Including his underwear.
Clumped together, still damp even after a day, not fully dried.
Why did I pick this up...?
She told herself to drop it, but she couldn't.
"...Well, since it's Hanjo's possession, it wouldn't be right to dispose of it carelessly."
Rags no longer fit to call clothes.
He'd surely tell her to toss them if asked. Still, clutching them to her chest, Hoaran murmured that excuse, knowing full well it was one.
"Tomorrow, I'll ask Hanjo tomorrow and dispose of them then... Even a mother shouldn't discard her child's things without permission."
That's all it was, she repeated to herself, staring at Hanjo's underwear in her arms.
A sweet scent wafted from it.
From Hanjo's semen.
Of course it did—it was his underwear.
And that... wet dream incident? He'd been wearing them then, soaked through, so of course they carried the scent.
She'd followed that very aroma here, hadn't she?
And now, holding the source, it was only natural to catch whiffs of it.
So this wasn't deliberate sniffing.
She'd just ended up smelling it unavoidably.
"Haa......"
Why did it smell so good?
Were all men's like this?
Or just Hanjo's?
With no others to compare, she had no way to know.
But one thing was clear: the more she inhaled, the more she craved.
Like water soaking into cotton, it seeped deeper into her mind with each breath.
And she didn't hate it. Not at all.
"Just a little... just a little..."
Her rationality screamed at her, but she couldn't hold back.
Lifting Hanjo's underwear to her nose, the sweet scent stabbed through her senses, making her head swim.
Her body heated up, her lower abdomen throbbing with need.
Her chest tightened, breaths coming short and ragged.
Sniiiiif...♡
Then she felt wetness soaking into the fabric.
Startled by the sensation of her own arousal drenching his underwear, Hoaran yanked it away from her face.
"Wh-Why..."
She murmured, but nothing changed.
Her heat cycle—still with time left—was beginning.