Under the Desk Ordeal
...It had changed. The rod filling my mouth now prodded relentlessly at my throat. Trying to dodge it, I instinctively jerked my body up—only for the hard desk to greet my head with a solid thunk! A dull ache bloomed in my skull.
Claire's hand immediately clamped down on my head, pressing a bit roughly in her panic.
"What was that noise?"
"...I-I just bumped my leg a little..."
"Oh dear, you're not hurt, are you?"
"I-I'm fine. Even if I am... I can just heal it."
A faint white light flickered above me through the fabric. The throbbing pain in my head faded away. The gentle stroking hand, as if apologetic, almost made me feel better—but the fishy taste flooding my mouth and the thrusting sensation in my throat yanked me back to reality.
Instinctively moving my tongue to breathe only heightened the presence of those veins I'd glimpsed earlier. Disgusting didn't even begin to cover it. Every twitch of my tongue made her rod twitch and spurt precum, filling my mouth with that briny, metallic tang. Breathing through my nose had its limits; my head started to grow fuzzy.
I felt sticky fluid coating my throat, forcing me to swallow it all just to breathe. Gulp, gulp.
...What a pathetic sight this is.
My mind dulled further. The faint voices of the nun and Claire blurred into a distant hum, their words indistinguishable. The space under the nun's habit grew stiflingly hot and humid.
How long does it take to review documents, anyway?
Each desperate breath through the gap between nose and mouth brought a thick, musky scent. Exhaling made Claire's rod twitch again.
...That reaction filled me with dread. Memories of Claire bucking her hips moments ago flashed in my mind.
"Hoo... hoo..."
But I couldn't just stop breathing...
As I exhaled those fragile wisps of air, hoping nothing would happen, something—Claire's legs, presumably—began pressing down on my body. Buried between her thighs, I was helpless. Then, something hot flooded my throat.
...No need to check. I knew what it was. That distinctive scent rose from my throat to my nose. It clung in thick globs, drip, drip, forcing me to swallow. Dying choked on cum would be too undignified.
Still, a small mercy: she'd cum, so maybe this rod filling my mouth would finally go away? Clutching that hope, I swallowed the pulsing spurts from Claire's throat-thumping release, over and over. Careful not to let any spill out.
It felt weird, but I told myself it was necessary. For Claire's sake... and to survive.
But... something was off. After a long torrent of cum, her rod showed no sign of vanishing. The veins on my tongue felt smoother, but the heavy fullness in my mouth remained.
A bad thought crossed my mind. Did her holy power reinforce it? That's why it won't go down after one round...?
Hope shattered, helplessness and exhaustion washed over me. At least her legs released their grip. Soon, retreating footsteps echoed. Then, the harsh scrape of a chair right in front of my nose.
I felt Claire's rod withdraw from my mouth. Still sprawled on the floor, I spat out what I hadn't swallowed. The viscous fluid mixed with saliva splattered, soaking the ground.
"Cough! Cough!"
"...You okay?"
Claire's voice came with hesitant hands. Gulping fresh air, I pulled myself together and asked through a lukewarm sigh,
"...It still hasn't gone away?"
"...Yeah. Still rock-hard. But... hmm. Looks a bit less monstrous than before."
"I see..."
I sat up, meeting Claire's eyes. Her face was a tangled mess of emotions—guilt toward me, panic over her persistent erection... and a subtle thrill laced with shame.
Her voice trembled faintly as she checked again. "I asked before, but... are you really okay?"
"...Yeah. It's nothing."
Truth be told, no—but it was familiar enough.
I had no idea how it started, but...
"Anyway... let's not use holy power anymore. That's probably why it won't go down."
"...Got it."
Leaving Claire to mutter wordlessly, I sank onto the sofa. My stomach churned from the load I'd gulped down. My throat burned raw, no need to mention that.
Leaning back, I realized I was drenched in sweat. Well, I'd had my face buried in a nun's habit under a desk—sweaty was inevitable.
...Though other reasons contributed too.
Sweat-matted hair clung to my face, sticky and unpleasant. The habit, already hugging her curves, now plastered even tighter from sweat, outlining her body obscenely.
No one's around to see anyway... oh, right, Claire.
Glancing around, Claire had moved from the desk to the seat across from me. Her face still complex, but calmer now.
...She'll be fine. Even self-relief was a struggle for her before. And... she's a woman.
Now with that thing attached, but still. She'll manage. Definitely. Yeah.
First things first: deal with that monstrous thing.
"Claire."
"...Yeah."
"Let's finish it off. Probably gone after one or two more rounds like before."
"...Okay."
She stood, locked the door, then glanced back, blushing shyly.
"J-Just in case someone barges in like last time. No other reason."
"Who said anything...?"
Pouting with furrowed brows, she sat across again. The bulge straining under her habit remained.
I stared for a moment, then stood and sat beside her. She flinched, body tensing.
"What's wrong?"
"N-No... I thought you might do it again. After what you just went through."
She was bothered by it, after all. Her normal reaction warmed my heart a bit.
Off-guard, words slipped out. Maybe because I trusted her.
"...It's fine. I'm used to it."
"Used... to it?"
I felt her demeanor shift. Only then did I realize my slip.
"Uh... I mean."
"What do you mean, 'used to it'?"
The room felt colder. She leaned down, voice low and probing. Her crimson eyes sharply scanned me.
"You... don't tell me, because your body changed..."
"N-No! It's not that! Let me explain..."
This time, I gathered my wits and explained everything—from the accident to the homunculus, insisting I didn't enjoy it, that it was all circumstantial, never by choice.
Listening patiently, Claire narrowed her eyes and asked, her erection still rigid.
"So... not what I was thinking?"
"O-Of course not! What do you take me for?"
Her reaction was milder than expected. Come to think of it, she hadn't batted an eye at the homunculus mention earlier. I'd figured academy days would make her scold me for trespassing on divine territory.
"...Fine. Be careful it doesn't happen again. I'd prefer you stay away from that homunculus, but from what you say, that's unlikely."
"Haha..."
In explaining, I'd unwittingly defended Cecil. Has she become that important to me?
At first, I'd have sacrificed her to revert. But now... could I?
Even then, past-life memories made her off-putting. Now, after laughing and bonding like family... could I really?
From the start, pursuing research while ruling out the biggest possibility felt like admitting defeat.
Maybe that's why Veronica and Master never brought it up.
"Asha?"
"...Sorry, just lost in thought."
"What could make you look so serious?"
"...It's nothing."
She grinned playfully, stroking my hair. I let her—for some reason, it felt nice now.
I'd have swatted it away before.
"...You've changed, you know."
"..."
Look who's talking. Sulking, I pushed her hand away and reached for her lower half.
Casually, businesslike, I said,
"...Let's take care of this."
"Are you embarrassed?"
"No."
Quite the cheerful chat, considering what comes next.