The Defeated Hero's Happy Slave Life (Club: Villain's Sex Slave Hero) (2)
Hah... hah... ha...
"Club, tired already? Nah, you're a hero, right?"
"Hiiik...♡"
In No. 13's room, on that bed, Club trembled as she was embraced from behind by No. 13, her clitoris toyed with so roughly it felt like it might burst. On top of that, his magnificent cock was buried deep inside her belly, grinding up against her cervix from below.
Leaning her back against No. 13's body, Club panted out ragged, hiccuping breaths. How many times had she cum already? And how many times had he ejaculated inside her during all that? She could feel traces of his semen from her head down to her face, chest, belly, and even deep in her ass.
The more she sensed it, the more it turned into overwhelming pleasure...
"Today, Club, don't go back to your room. Stay here. It'd be such a shame to let a hero like you go. Let's fuck all night long. How's that?"
"Huaaah... Yes... I love it... Anytime, anything... as No. 13 wants...♡"
"Good, it's decided then. Club sleeps in my room tonight. ...Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of breaks in between. Sleep... well, it'll be late. But no passing out from how good it feels, okay?"
No. 13 teased as he licked at Club's earhole with his tongue. That chilling sensation drew another pathetic sigh from her lips.
Just as he was about to start thrusting again, there was a sudden knock—knock.
Who the hell at this hour? The Advisor? Or maybe the boss?
A bit annoyed at the perfect interruption, No. 13 set Club aside and headed to the door.
He opened it and checked—it wasn't the Advisor or the boss, but the scientist Dorothy.
"Huh, what's up?"
"Got something to give you. Felt like now or never."
"Yeah? Could've waited till tomorrow."
"Tomorrow I'm locking myself in all day to focus. So I brought extra of that stamina booster you wanted. All prepped, so come pick it up then and don't bug me."
"Ah, thanks."
No. 13 took the envelope from Dorothy with the door half-open. She frowned at the sight of him through the gap.
He was half-naked, after all—just a t-shirt haphazardly thrown on from when it'd been tossed aside, doing nothing to hide his lower half.
He'd probably meant to just poke his face out, but the open door didn't fully cover him, exposing his erect monstrosity twitching away.
Only now noticing, No. 13 gave a wry smile and stepped back. That revealed Club behind him too.
The smell wafting out made it obvious what was going on—no guesswork needed.
"Learn some self-control. You're not some dog in heat."
Dorothy's cold rebuke left No. 13 a little embarrassed. He grinned awkwardly and made a suggestion.
"What's the big deal? Wanna join, Dorothy?"
"I'll kill you."
"C'mon, wouldn't some new experiences help your research? Dorothy, your pussy feels... uh, never mind."
Maybe his brain had melted a bit from fucking Club, because he'd nearly sexually harassed a colleague without thinking.
That might fly with brainwashed subordinates like Club or Spade, where the hierarchy was locked in tight, but not with peers.
Even if No. 13's brain was pickled in cock and dopamine, he had enough sense for the organization's No. 2.
Dorothy stared up at him coldly, clearly getting what he'd almost said, but she didn't press.
"Look, No. 13. I did come to give you that thing, yeah. But..."
She continued.
"I also have something to say to you."
Whoosh.
No. 13 was yanked forward. Dorothy's slender arm shot out, grabbing his collar and pulling.
It wasn't strong, but he went along with it, relaxing as she drew him close.
Her indigo eyes locked onto his up close.
"No. 13, you bastard. You haven't forgotten almost dying before, right?"
"...You mean with Club? Obviously."
No matter what, he wouldn't forget nearly dying. He'd reflected on it, preparing contingencies for Check and Coco's brainwashing this time.
No repeats of last time. He wouldn't die from overlooking hypnosis vulnerabilities and going "oh, doesn't work?"
No. 13 explained like it was an excuse, but Dorothy's grip on his collar didn't loosen. Her face still looked pissed.
"Let go. You're too soft, No. 13. I've known you're an idiot for ages, but I can't just watch you tunnel-vision like this."
She went on.
"No. 13, I don't care if you play around with your war trophies however. You earned them with your merits—none of my business."
"But I have to warn you. You're so fixated on them your vision's narrowing."
"Listen up, dumbass No. 13. Ears open, don't blow this off."
Her voice was utterly cold and emotionless. The words sounded emotional, passionate even, but the flat tone made it hard to gauge her true feelings.
That was Dorothy—always rational, mechanical, calculating. Which meant her advice needed heeding; it was the most objective around.
"You've always been like this, No. 13. Misfortune dogs your every step. Like you're cursed or something. What'd you do in a past life?"
"Whenever things seem to go right, disaster strikes—guaranteed."
"Not just this time. Even before you hit rock bottom as a villain, it happened all the time, right?"
Harsh words to his face. But he agreed—plenty of examples came to mind.
The worst was losing his powers, tumbling from the peak just when he was riding high. The fall hit hard.
And with Club this time... he'd been overconfident, preparations lax. He'd improvised a win, but nearly dying mid-process wasn't funny.
"No. 13, you need to accept you're misfortune-prone."
"Doesn't matter if it's true or not—believing it keeps you twice, three times more cautious than others."
"Always prep for the worst."
"If your screw-ups only kill you, fine, your fate. But..."
"Right now, the boss... and this organization's future rests on your shoulders."
She stopped there, locking eyes to gauge his reaction, then finally released his collar.
No. 13 straightened his rumpled t-shirt, freed.
"......Got it, Dorothy. Don't get too cocky, right?"
"Yeah. Good thing even a moron like you gets it."
"Harsh, from a teammate."
"Shut up. More importantly, quit flashing your nasty shit and get back inside. What if it'd been the boss?"
If it'd been the boss...
"...Kinda exciting?"
"You psycho. Say that to her face."
"Couldn't in front of the boss. Only 'cause it's you."
"Don't do it to me either. You're such a... ugh, whatever."
With that, conversation over, Dorothy stepped back from the door.
"Frankly, I don't buy this organization's ideals or goals much. But I like Abyss itself. No desire to hunt for a new setup. ...So No. 13, if you fuck up carelessly and die pointlessly, I'll really kill you."
Scary stuff. Guess he'd better not die pointlessly.
Dorothy left. In No. 13's hand remained the envelope with her new brainwashing tools, improved drugs, some potentially useful gadgets, and stamina boosters.
"Misfortune-prone, huh..."
Even objectively, from the sidelines, did bad luck follow him that visibly?
Grateful advice anyway. For the usually tight-lipped Dorothy to show up specially...
How unreliable had he looked?
Either way, to not waste it, he'd be more careful. Starting with Check and Coco. And anything else he might've missed.
No. 13 had his limits thinking solo. But luckily, he had a subordinate with brilliant brains—the Advisor.
Time to borrow her wisdom, broaden his view.
"No. 13...?"
"Yeah, ah, sorry, Club. Kept you waiting?"
No. 13 shut the door and approached Club. She'd been left hanging mid-heat, face full of regret.
Looking at her, he pulled something from Dorothy's envelope—an aphrodisiac he'd requested.
For tonight, keep going as is. Deeper thoughts tomorrow.