Kneeling Demonkin (15)
"We have double rooms available."
The price was far cheaper than booking separate singles or dorms. Pelle didn't even ask my opinion before requesting a double. She gave me a look like what's the problem? as I stared at her.
"We're short on cash. You wanna skip lunch tomorrow?"
"Skipping one meal won't kill me."
"Sleeping in the same room isn't so bad you'd give up food for it... So why'd you do it back at the Apenzel temple?"
I let out a disbelieving chuckle. "Because you said it was fine back then."
"It's fine now too."
"Uh... okay then...?"
We sat at a table to fill our stomachs first. The server slammed down two bowls of "eternal stew" and headed upstairs. It tasted even richer than the first time we'd tried it a few days ago.
With our bellies full, we nursed beers by the hearth until the room was ready, warming up our chilled bones. We'd spent the morning chasing Asenaris, turned Apenzel upside down, then ridden all day in the biting wind. No wonder my eyes were drooping by the fire.
Overheated from the warmth, Idwild sweated buckets and stripped off her clothes, complaining it was too hot. Della snapped that she was just trying to seduce me again. Insisting she wouldn't back down either, Della stripped too, and they started arguing over who I'd pick first.
Don't fight. Why not just do it together?
"Master."
"Pelle, wanna join?"
I jolted awake from my sleep-talking, meeting Pelle's puzzled gaze as she looked down at me.
"Wha...? Why...?"
"Time to head up."
"Oh... right."
The room was technically a double, but it was single-sized with two tiny beds crammed in. Nothing like the spacious doubles at our inn—I was pretty disappointed. Still, it beat places with just one bed claiming to be a double.
Adventuring as a hero, I'd seen insane inns worldwide. Holes drilled in the floor corner called "private bathrooms" (never cleaned), straw-strewn floors as "king beds," or rooms split into four where you had to cross others' to reach yours. Compared to that, this was downright reasonable.
Pelle ditched her stuffy fur hat and gently set the Asenaris bag at the foot of her bed. I tossed my cloak and boots aside and flopped onto the mattress. Not super soft, but decent enough.
Turning my head, I saw Pelle perched on her bed, peering into the bag. A chill seeped out slowly.
"They doing okay in there?"
"Sleeping."
"What do we do with them at the inn? Can't just let 'em loose."
"From what I know, Asenaris don't roam far. Build 'em a small house like a birdhouse, and they'll stay happy inside."
"Handy. What do they eat?"
"Herbivores, so moss or nuts should work. Ask Ammugar for details."
Pelle shivered at the cold, tying the bag shut tight. She stowed her gear, then extinguished the wall sconce.
"Good night, Master."
"Night."
The room plunged into darkness. Her bed creaked as she fumbled onto it. The bag rustled and bulged—Asenaris waking up.
"גם פה כיף."
"אני חושב שזה יותר טוב ממערה."
Chattering voices, but no clue what they meant. Maybe Pelle could understand.
"What're they saying?"
"It's fun here, better than a cave."
"Cute little guys."
Lying still, cold air whistled through the window cracks at my nose. Lithelm was northern frontier—late autumn here while elsewhere it was summer. Nights were frigid.
As the Asenaris chatter lulled me toward sleep, Pelle spoke up.
"Master."
"Hm...? Yeah. Not asleep yet?"
"Cold?"
"A bit. Draft's sneaking in."
Her bed creaked as she rolled toward me.
"Master. Wanna sleep warm?"
"How?"
"Like in the tunnel."
Has she lost it...? She means that time half-naked, clinging in the dark?
Silence from me, then: "Don't like it?"
"No... not that. Just caught me off guard."
"So you do like it?"
She pressed relentlessly. Cornered, I stammered, "Uh? Well... yeah, not against it."
Instantly, she vaulted from her bed to mine.
"Scoot over a bit."
"Uh, okay..."
I shifted toward the wall. She slid in, yanking my arm for a pillow and burrowing into my chest.
"Cold."
"Got it..."
I awkwardly draped the blanket over us, hugging her close. The girl who'd braved blizzards rather than touch me back in Apenzel was now glued to me. This trip had brought us closer, sure—but bed-sharing close? Debatable.
That tunnel vibe at the end had been weird, but I never expected it to lead here. If it were Della, I'd have pounced without hesitation. She'd been rubbing against bar corners eyeing me forever—plausible deniability.
Pelle nuzzled my chest, her slender fingers trailing my waist and side. Goosebumps prickled where they touched, that eerie chill sinking lower, past my gut to my groin.
It stiffened hard, bulging my pants and pressing into her belly like in the tunnel. Her hand froze.
Still buried against me, she asked, "Master. What's this?"
"I'm not doing anything. Guess it wants in."
My motto: If it's edible, eat it. This didn't add up otherwise. What lunatic climbs naked into bed demanding tunnel cuddles without wanting it?
Whatever sparked this in her demon head didn't matter. Point was, no intent, no action. So I dangled the bait.
Or did I bite it? Whatever.
"Wanna let it in?"
"Mm... If you put it in, sure."
Pelle smirked faintly and sat up. Slowly, she undressed.
The soft rustle of fabric was gentle, not the frantic tangle I'd imagined. But this view—lying back, admiring her—wasn't bad at all.
Top off: her straight back gleamed, deep spinal groove and shoulder muscles flexing smoothly. Breasts ample against her slim waist, heavy and firm—not like Idwild's soft pillows.
Her thighs and calves stretched long and pale as milk in the dark, toned muscle without an ounce of fat. Legs that screamed temptation.
Nude, she neatly folded her clothes on her bed. I couldn't help snickering.
"Why laugh?"
"Just... funny. Folding before we even start."
"I like things tidy."
Explains the Demon King's logistics and her inventory obsession. I stripped too, tossing mine aside. She gathered them, folding neatly beside hers.
"Shall we...?"