Sigh...
Leon let out a long, weary breath, mind already running calculations.
Persephone had joined the fray too. Things were looking bad...
Even before this, after the women had formed their "anti-Leon alliance," his already precarious standing in the household had been hanging by a thread.
If he hadn't been scheming his ass off, exploiting timing gaps to outmaneuver them, Jeanne and Rose would've carved up every last scrap of his authority between them ages ago.
Thankfully, he'd already pulled them back in line over the past stretch.
Otherwise, with Jeanne's fierce temperament, the whole house would've had a regime change by now.
But with Persephone about to join their camp, Leon felt a crisis like never before.
No. I can't let them band together against me.
Divide and conquer.
His mind raced. He already had a plan.
Good... Persephone, you think you can waltz in here pulling rank as my old captain and senior, acting like you own the place?
Tonight, you're not walking out the same way you walked in.
His resolve set, his hands moved faster and faster.
Leon wiped the table so fast his cloth was practically leaving afterimages. The bizarre display finally caught the women's attention.
Their teacups paused mid-sip. They exchanged glances, bewildered.
"What's gotten into him? Is he always like this?"
Persephone tilted her head elegantly, barely suppressing a laugh as she asked Rose.
But sharp-eyed Rose caught the fleeting glint of mischief in Persephone's gaze.
She fought back a smile, pressed her lips together, and kept her tone as neutral as she could.
"He's not usually like this. He's more of a... magic nerd, I guess? Once he picks up a Grimoire, he turns into the world's quietest pretty boy."
"As for what's wrong with him now..."
Rose fixed Persephone with a knowing look, covering her mouth with a soft laugh.
"Oh my... I'd guess he's cooking up some unrealistic fantasy again."
Unrealistic... fantasy?
Persephone's brow furrowed slightly as she searched her memories for every moment she'd shared with Leon over the years.
Countless scenes flickered past like a highlight reel, until finally...
They froze on the moment at the door. The way he'd looked at her, slow and possessive, like the answer was already settled.
"..."
Persephone's eyes snapped up to Rose. That all-knowing, smiling look told her exactly what Rose meant.
Remembering the strange, tingling sensation that had rippled through her when that searing gaze had locked onto her... almost instantly, the blush spreading across her beautiful face reached her earlobes and crept down her slender neck.
"Un... unrealistic fantasies? He... he wouldn't dare!"
Beside them, Jeanne and Kureha shared a look, both pairs of eyes brimming with amusement.
Miss Persephone, those words sound tough enough, but that tone of yours... why's it so soft?
And... your eyes are practically glistening.
...
...
Leon, meanwhile, had no idea his little scheme had been seen through by Rose yet again.
But even if he'd known, it wouldn't have mattered.
After all... this was a plan he had no intention of hiding.
So what if they knew?
On this evening as the sun set and the new moon rose, he was the undisputed king of this little household.
Besides, the "old sparks, new flames" situation between Persephone and Leon? Jeanne, Rose, all of them knew perfectly well. They just didn't say it out loud.
And Persephone had chosen to stay. She hadn't made the slightest move to leave. She was clearly here to go toe-to-toe with him.
So what else was there to say?
The lady had delivered herself right to his door. If Leon didn't follow through... well, what kind of man would that make him?
Let's do this.
...
The moon hung high. A fine rain drifted like silk.
The hands of the Magic Stone clock on the wall had quietly crept toward midnight.
After a full day of combat, Laurier and Aura had hit their limit an hour ago, yawning their way upstairs to bed.
Only four women and one man remained in the living room.
Then...
Jeanne, Rose, and Kureha rose to their feet in perfect unison, as if they'd planned it.
"It's getting late. We should turn in too."
"Leon, we'll leave Miss Persephone in your care."
"You... can handle that, right?"
Under the weight of three pairs of knowingly amused eyes, Leon glanced at his former boss, who sat on the sofa with her arms crossed, legs crossed, expression calm and composed.
His mouth curved. He met all three of their looks without flinching.
"Of course I can."
Rose took Jeanne and Kureha by the hand, and the three of them padded up the stairs in their fuzzy animal slippers.
At the top, Rose looked back with a parting smile.
"Good night."
"Good night."
...
As the last three figures vanished at the top of the stairs, the spacious living room held only Leon and Persephone.
The moment the bedroom door clicked shut on the second floor, the entire house sank into deep silence.
Only the Magic Stone clock on the wall ticked on, tireless and precise, its steady rhythm echoing through the empty space.
Their eyes met across the room. Neither of them spoke.
The tension coiled tighter with every passing second.
Persephone broke first. A low laugh, tinged with allure, escaped her lips.
Leon stood up and walked straight to her. He stopped right in front of where she sat.
He didn't speak. He didn't move.
He simply looked down at her, his gaze unhurried.
His eyes locked onto hers, green and deep as forest pools.
The woman's lips curved into a provocative arc. She returned his stare with a silent, amused smile.
"Persephone, I had you figured out from the day I walked into your Familia."
"You act tough and cold, but deep down... you've been waiting for a man stronger than you to come along and completely conquer you."
Before the words had fully left his mouth, Leon's arms shot out like iron bands, one behind her neck and one under her knees. With a yelp of surprise from her, he swept her up into his arms.
"Well, here I am."
In that split second of weightlessness, Persephone instinctively threw her arms around his neck. A flash of panic crossed her eyes before she forced it down, trying to mask it behind an icy glare.
"What... what do you think you're doing!"
Her voice carried the faintest tremor.
Leon's mouth curved. His arms locked around the soft body in his hold like brands of iron, the look on his face radiating absolute control.
"What am I doing? Granting your wish, of course."
The bed was cold under her back when he set her down. Persephone reached up to straighten her glasses, an automatic gesture, and Leon caught her wrist before she could finish.
"Leave them."
He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth was on hers, slow and certain, his free hand sliding up the inside of her thigh through the black tights, finding the seam at the top.
She made a small sound against his lips and tried to twist her head away. All those months of holding the line, of watching him from across the captain's desk, of telling herself it was nothing.
"Don't think this means..."
He didn't answer. The button at her collar gave first. Then the second. She tried to bring her knees together and he was already between them, one hand pressing her flat to the mattress between her breasts. His thumb found her nipple through the lace, and her whole back arched off the bed against her will.
"Bastard."
"Mhm."
The blouse opened. Her bra rode up under the lace, and his mouth went to her tits before her hands could catch up. He sucked, then bit, light enough not to mark, hard enough to make her hips lift. Her fingers twisted into his hair.
"Slow down."
He did. Just barely. Just enough that when his hand slid back up her inner thigh and pressed the heel of his palm against her cunt through the tights, she could feel exactly how wet she already was, no buffer, the fabric catching every movement.
He hooked two fingers into the waistband and pulled. The tights tore. Just enough that he could get under them, and the sound made her flinch and then go still under him, breath caught in her chest.
His fingers found her without ceremony. One, then two, sliding into her pussy slow, his other hand still pinning her ribs. She was tight around him and slick already, and her hips moved before she could stop them.
"Fuck."
He worked her like he had time. Curled his fingers, dragged the pad of his thumb over her clit in tight circles, watched her face. Persephone tried to keep her eyes open, the lenses of her glasses fogging at the edges, and gave up when his fingers hit the angle that emptied her head. She turned her face into the pillow.
His free hand caught her chin and turned it back. She met his eyes, breath shallow, and didn't look away.
The pencil skirt got pushed past her hips. She heard his belt and then the zipper, and her hand was around his cock before she'd thought about it. He made a low sound against her neck. Hot. Heavier than she'd let herself imagine through all those months of professional distance.
He pushed his cock into her in one long stroke, slow enough that she felt every centimeter. Her nails went into his shoulder and stayed there. A broken sound caught at the back of her throat.
He held there a beat. Both his forearms braced beside her head, his breath at her ear, the weight of him pressing her down into the sheets. The torn tights still clung to one of her thighs. Her glasses had slipped down her nose. She didn't move them.
Her hips moved on their own. He held her down with the weight of his body and waited until her breathing went ragged against his shoulder. Then he started moving.
The first set was slow and deep. She caught the rhythm and rolled her hips up against his, trying to take more, and he answered by gathering her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head. She made a noise then, sharp and thin, and turned her face away from him on the pillow.
He caught her chin and brought it back. Her glasses had fogged again, her mouth was open, and there was nothing sharp left in her face.
"Look at me, Captain."
"Hate you..." she breathed.
He fucked her harder. Her glasses fogged completely. Somewhere behind them her hairclip came loose and fell off the edge of the bed. She could hear the rain still going outside, steady on the window, and underneath it the wet sound of his cock moving in her pussy, and her own breath, and the bed creaking once, twice, building.
"I'm going to come."
He didn't slow.
She came with her hands still pinned, mouth open against his shoulder, her whole body locked tight and then giving all at once. He kept moving through it. Didn't stop, didn't slow, fucked her right through the aftershocks until she was shaking under him, and then he came with his face buried in her neck, balls drawing up, and she felt him groan more than heard it.
For a long minute neither of them moved.
The rain went on outside. Her heart was loud in her own ears. His cock was still buried in her. His hand had loosened on her wrists at some point.
"My glasses are crooked," she said, voice wrecked.
He reached up, very carefully, and straightened them on her nose. Then he kissed her, soft this time, and rolled off her onto his back.
Her tights were torn. Her skirt was around her waist. Her blouse was open. Her hairclip was somewhere on the floor.
"That doesn't count as thank you," she said to the ceiling.
He laughed under his breath.
"Then I'll keep going."
...
...
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