Familiar, Yet Unfamiliar (4): Not Too Slowly
Marei rose from his seat and approached the door at a measured pace—neither too slow nor hurried. It would have been polite enough to stand when Loren appeared, but he had no intention of giving her any excuse to find fault with him. The massive doors opened without a sound, and there she stood in the center. She resembled Labella, or perhaps it was more accurate to say Labella resembled her. Her violet eyes swept over Marei before she smiled faintly. Her green hair shimmered under the light illuminating the grand hall, and her ripe body remained as alluring as ever, as though its juices might spill forth at any moment.
Unlike the suit she had worn when they met Ran, this was the opposite: a black evening dress that barely covered her shoulders and collarbones in front, yet plunged deeply down her back. The lines of her body, which looked as though they would yield sweet nectar at the slightest touch, were fully revealed. Marei swallowed dryly without realizing it, then quickly averted his gaze in surprise.
“Were you already up? Sit. We’ll eat first.”
“……Understood.”
He had expected a sharp rebuke, but Loren simply moved forward as if nothing were amiss. Though she was a dragon, her waist was far too slender for someone who had borne a child, and the curve of her hips was outrageously full. Marei forced himself to keep his eyes from wandering. Even so, they drifted naturally, and Loren paid no mind to his gaze as she took the head seat and picked up her knife and fork with effortless grace.
“First, I should apologize. Your mother and I were never on good terms. It’s a personal matter, so I won’t elaborate, but seeing you—so much like her—made the words slip out before I could stop them.”
Loren offered the apology without bowing her head. She sliced into a thick steak as casually as she might comment on the weather. It took Marei a moment after she finished speaking to realize she had actually apologized. There was no formality, no sincerity—nothing. He could feel no genuine remorse, yet he had to acknowledge that this was the greatest concession Loren was willing to make, even if he hated admitting it.
“It’s fine.”
“Good. Does the meal suit your taste?”
“Yes.”
Good. Marei repeated the word inwardly. In his small rural village, dragons were the stuff of legend. He had only ever heard of them in books and tales, remembered as arrogant beings who looked down even on gods. Still, he couldn’t help feeling slighted. Even so, he could only nod at Loren’s indifferent words. He drew a slow breath and picked up his knife to cut into the steak that had appeared before him.
After that, Loren said little. She told him to eat more meat, that there was no need to rush. Her tone was almost familial, which only made Marei feel more awkward. He wondered again and again whether the woman he had met earlier and the one before him now were truly the same person. The food was more delicious than anything he had eaten at the restaurant with Labella and Ilien, though the atmosphere made it hard to enjoy. He chewed slowly.
Loren had apparently finished her meal and now held a glass of wine.
“Eat at your own pace. Dragons have no need for food; we dine only as a hobby. There’s no need to match me.”
She spoke without looking at him. Marei hesitated—should he set down his utensils, or continue as she had instructed? He could only watch her expression carefully.
“I have no interest in human modesty or etiquette. When I speak, simply listen.”
One word came to mind as he looked at her now: sovereign. She was a lofty existence, utterly alien compared to elves, vampires, or beastkin who at least resembled humans. He wasn’t sure it was right to think this way about an elder of the family, but Loren was arrogant. Yet the arrogance suited her. It felt natural, as though it had always been part of her. That very naturalness made her all the more mysterious.
“Understood.”
Elves had appeared at some point to serve the meal. Their presence was so quiet and natural that if he hadn’t noticed, he might have thought the food was being portioned onto the plates by magic alone. Marei shook his head sharply, trying to steady himself. The head butler who had cut off his own fingers, the hostile master of the house who regarded him with open animosity—such harsh realities had continued without end, and he hadn’t even registered when the elves arrived. He had to keep his mind tightly focused.
Loren rested her chin on the back of her hand, watching him with evident amusement. Marei pretended not to notice her gaze and slowly cleared his plate with stiff hands. He couldn’t tell whether the food was going into his mouth or his nose, or whether he was even chewing properly. He felt as though he might collapse under her stare. It held neither hostility nor favor—simply indifference—and that single look filled him with fear he could barely contain. Still, he had to keep eating. If he stopped, he feared everything before him would turn white.
He moved his utensils countless times until, at last, his limit came.
Clink.
The fork struck the empty plate with a sharp sound. One of Loren’s eyes narrowed, and her pink lips curved into a faint smile.
“Enough. There’s no need to force yourself.”
“Yes.”
Marei exhaled the breath he had been holding and slowly set down his utensils. Loren wiped the corners of her mouth with a tissue in a gesture so graceful it drew admiration, then cleaned her full lips. She walked ahead without a word. The deeply plunging back of her evening dress was far too provocative for any formal occasion, and Marei knew he shouldn’t, yet he couldn’t stop his mind from conjuring lewd images as he stared at her back. That ripe body. That rear that looked as though it would spill sweet juices if squeezed. If he tugged the dress aside, the cleft of her buttocks—tightly confined by the fabric—would be laid bare in a pitifully enticing way. How good would it feel to grip her hips with both hands and slide his cock between them? The filthy thoughts wouldn’t stop.
“Let’s have some tea.”
Loren stopped at the terrace and turned to look at him, her expression blank as she stated her intention. Summer was approaching. Though evening had begun to fall, the sun still clung stubbornly to the horizon. By tomorrow, the day after, and the month after that, the days would grow longer. The thought crossed his mind briefly. Strangely, indulging in vulgar thoughts about Loren had given him a small measure of ease. He could breathe again. And he could look at her properly.
Labella wasn’t immature, but she couldn’t match the adult presence Loren exuded. Of course, even Labella’s age was far greater than Marei’s. She claimed the role of his mother and waited to become a real one with his seed, yet he could never shake the feeling that she was more like an older sister. But what he felt from Loren was something else entirely—mature, seductive, overflowing with a ripeness that stirred a deeply perverse desire. Her body was intensely erotic.
Having already called Labella “Mother” while filling her womb like an animal and playing at training her, Marei’s sense of sexual ethics had grown increasingly blurred. Even if Loren was the other wife of his great-grandfather—the hero who had slain the Demon King—he felt no moral qualms or guilt about lusting after her body. If anything, he only felt a twisted sense that harboring such feelings toward an elder of the family was itself irreverent.
An unknown tea had been placed in Marei’s cup, but Loren continued drinking wine without pause. She didn’t seem drunk, yet her words, more like muttered complaints, forced him to look at her. Beyond the horizon, the sunset faded, and beneath a sky tinged with violet, Loren gazed silently down at Valter. Under the moonlight, the form of the ancient dragon who would remain unchanged for eternity was breathtakingly beautiful. Marei drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled, seized by the urge to run his tongue along her skin that looked as though it might sparkle.
“Two of the butler’s fingers. The name of the Pawen family has become far too cheap.”
The wine glass slipped from Loren’s hand and shattered on the floor. Marei flinched, tension coiling through his body at her sudden words and action. When she flicked her fingers lightly, an elf in a maid uniform approached and placed a small box before him. Open it. Loren spoke casually, and Marei, gripped by an inexplicable unease, lifted the lid.
He stared at the contents, mouth slightly agape like a fool, unable to speak.
“I considered giving you the head, but considering your fragile disposition, this seemed appropriate.”
A wrinkled right hand lay inside, proof of the years it had endured. Dember. Marei recalled the old man whose face he couldn’t even remember. Loren smiled with evident pleasure. He couldn’t breathe. It felt as though a heavy weight had been placed on his chest; he couldn’t force air into his lungs. Loren picked up the hand missing two fingers as though playing with a toy and shook it lightly before tossing it back into the box with disinterest.
“Don’t let yourself be underestimated. Not by me, not by anyone. Not even by Labella.”
It was madness. Loren spoke the insane words as though they were nothing. Did she even understand what it meant to be underestimated? A dragon who had lived for countless years surely knew far more than he did. This absurd reasoning was a warning. A warning directed at him. Seeing Marei’s face turn deathly pale, Loren smiled with satisfaction. Then she suddenly approached, grasped his chin, and pulled him toward her.
“L-Loren…?”
Marei called her name in a rush, but she said nothing. At a distance where their breaths nearly touched, she examined his face closely, as though searching for something—or as though she desperately wanted to find it. He felt guilty toward Erden for thinking it, but her face was vicious and far more seductive than hers. It was the opposite of the sanctity he had sensed from her. The beauty born from that inexplicable sense of irreverence left him breathless in a different way.
“Something strange has gotten involved… but, well, it’s fine. Looking at you like this, you do seem to resemble her a little.”
Staring into those violet eyes whose depth he couldn’t fathom, he couldn’t move. It felt as though his lungs were being squeezed. His diaphragm remained fixed in place, unable to function. Loren was like an endless abyss. A sticky, tar-like black pool was swallowing him whole. If he fell in, he would never escape—he would drown. He felt as though he might vomit. He didn’t know why. Looking into Loren’s eyes only filled him with fear. And that unknown, sticky emotion made him want to throw up.
“I don’t like those eyes. One eye should be enough, shouldn’t it?”
“Ugh… ugh… ugh…”
He couldn’t even speak. His face burned. He tried to exhale to survive, but it wouldn’t come. The last remnants of air in his lungs escaped in a low, beast-like whimper.
“I miss you…”
Even as she looked at Marei’s deathly pale face, Loren remained expressionless. A bubbling black swamp. A hand reached out from it and swallowed him. At the same time, Marei grabbed her wrist. Only then could he breathe.
“Haa… haa… haa… haa… haa…”
Loren gave a small laugh and released him. He couldn’t understand what she was thinking. But she paid no mind to such things and turned her back, walking away at her own pace. Marei stared blankly at her retreating figure, unable to grasp the direction of her actions.
“I enjoyed myself today. Come again next time.”
Loren left without looking back. Marei couldn’t understand a single thing about what she had found enjoyable, but one thing was clear: Loren had discovered something in him.
Even after arriving home, Marei couldn’t collect his thoughts. The black mire kept flickering before his eyes. A black liquid that would drag him down to unknown depths if he so much as brushed against it with his foot was constantly placed before him.
“Are you all right, Marei?”
Seeing his deathly pale face, Labella’s own complexion turned even whiter as she gripped his shoulders tightly. A familiar warmth spread through him. Only then did Marei come back to himself.
“Ah, yes. I’m fine…”
He had been standing before Loren just moments ago. When he regained his senses, he was already home. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten from the Governor’s Castle to here. Had Dember brought him? Had he walked? The ominous black swamp he had seen earlier had left no trace. Labella pressed herself against him, rubbing her chest against his arm, and the sense of crisis and suffocation he had felt moments before began to fade. Faced with Labella, who resembled Loren yet treated him so differently, Marei gently pulled his mother into an embrace.
“I want to kiss. Stick out your tongue, Mother.”
“Aah… right after coming home… Yes…”
The moment Marei gave the order, Labella immediately extended her tongue and pressed her lips to his. At the sight, he began kneading her ample buttocks. Fear had filled him when thinking of Loren, but the greater that fear grew, the more his breeding instinct strangely flooded his mind. It wasn’t Loren he wanted—it was simply the urge to scatter his seed into someone, anyone, like a beast.
“Aahng… If you put your finger in my ass…”
“I want to do it in Mother’s ass today. Is that all right?”
Labella licked his lips thinly and nodded slightly.
“Anytime. Master.”
“Then get on all fours, Labella.”
At Marei’s unusually rough command, Labella smiled happily and lifted her skirt herself, presenting her rear to the young boy. True to the promise she and Idrien had made, she wore nothing beneath her clothes at home. The cleanly waxed mound was revealed, flawless white flesh with a deep, narrow well glistening pink and dripping with fluid. Marei drank in the sight of Labella’s body, which only grew more stimulating no matter how often he took her. She had apparently removed her top as well; the apron barely clung to her slender shoulders, exposing her thin waist marked with dark kiss marks and the line of her spine, which looked even whiter under the fluorescent light.
Unsatisfied with merely looking, Marei stroked and squeezed her plump buttocks, savoring the supreme female form with touch and sight before indulging with his cock.
“Hnn~”
Labella let out a small nasal sound. Even as she knelt like a dog with her rear raised and offered to her son, she showed no shame. Instead, she moved her hips up and down, urging the boy to take her quickly. Between her spread legs, honey-like sticky fluid trickled from her slit down to the floor, forming thick strands. Marei coated his fingertips with the love juices flowing from his mother’s mound and smeared them generously around her anus, which had already become a cum-dump.
“Your asshole is already twitching, Labella.”
“Aah… Saying that makes me embarrassed… Even though you’re the one who made it like this…”
Labella spoke without hesitation, her voice trailing off as though proud and pleased to have been trained by her son, exhaling a long, hot breath. Once the area around her chrysanthemum was thoroughly coated and loosened enough for a finger to slide in easily, Marei gripped his massive cock and guided it to his mother’s rear entrance.