I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur walked through the academy gates and headed directly toward his dormitory.

The grounds were quieter than during the regular term. Students were running drills in the open training rings, and a few people crossed the paved paths between the main halls.

Arthur unlocked his door.

The room smelled faintly stale after sitting empty for weeks. He opened the window to let the evening air in, stripped off his travel clothes, and dropped onto the bed.

He pulled out his phone.

The screen was clogged with academy notifications. Most of it was administrative garbage he didn’t care about, but he checked the new schedule. Regular classes resumed in six days. Most of his combat classes had more practical sessions this term.

Six days before Morwenna started ruining his mornings again.

He cleared the alerts and checked his messages.

Roxane had sent one an hour ago: You alive?

Arthur typed back: Unfortunately.

Her reply came almost instantly: Then come eat.

Arthur grinned and grabbed a clean jacket.

He sent a quick message to Chloe: Back in Lornfell.

She didn’t reply. He scrolled down and answered a message Emily had sent three days ago, replying with a stupid video of an adventurer getting swallowed by a low-level slime.

Arthur walked out into the city.

After weeks of dirt trails, forests, and small settlements, Lornfell was incredibly fucking loud. Magitech streetlights hummed overhead. Guild parties crowded the sidewalks outside the gear shops. Workers were closing up the market stalls while the restaurant district filled up with evening traffic.

Arthur was starving.

The Leaping Stag was packed when he walked through the doors.

Roxane was standing near the end of the bar. She argued with a supplier about a missing cask of ale, then paused to point one of her servers toward a table of loud mercenaries.

Arthur took an empty stool at the bar and ordered a steak and a dark ale from the bartender.

Roxane noticed him sit down. She finished chewing out the supplier, signed a piece of parchment, and walked over.

She caught his chin and looked him over, then leaned across the bar and kissed him.

Her mouth opened hot and demanding over his. Arthur’s hand settled heavily onto the curve of her hip, his thumb pressing into the familiar fabric of her dress.

Someone farther down the bar loudly complained about an empty cup.

Roxane broke the kiss.

"Eat," she told him.

Arthur watched her walk away. "Missed you too."

One of her ears twitched, but she kept walking and grabbed the pitcher someone was yelling for.

Arthur ate his steak while the tavern carried on around him.

Two older adventurers a few stools down were arguing about a dungeon booking.

"They pushed the booking back again," the taller one complained, staring into his drink.

"Why?"

"Maintenance on one of the dungeon gates. Fucked the whole weekend rotation. Guild says they won’t let us in until Tuesday."

Arthur kept eating.

An hour later, the dinner rush finally settled. Roxane poured herself a glass of wine, walked around the bar, and slid onto the stool right next to him.

"So," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "How was the trip?"

"Caravans, Blacktusks, a wolfkin village, a massive wolf, and a bunch of prospectors breaking things they shouldn’t."

Roxane studied him for a long moment over the rim of her glass.

"You fucked someone."

Arthur reached across his plate for the last fry.

Her ears moved forward. "More than one?"

Arthur took a long drink of his ale instead of answering.

Roxane laughed. "Wolfkin?"

Arthur set his cup down.

"You really do have a type whenever somebody grows ears," she teased.

Arthur pointed a finger at hers. "You’re making a dangerous argument."

Roxane smiled, but her eyes dropped as Arthur shifted on the stool, the collar of his jacket pulling back just enough to expose his neck.

Her gaze locked onto the fading marks near his collarbone.

"She bit you?"

"A little."

Roxane gave him a filthy little smile. "Good. At least somebody kept you entertained."

"What did you do while I was gone?" Arthur asked.

"The usual. Academy idiots broke another table, one of my suppliers tried raising prices again, and Marcus nearly ordered enough ale to drown half the district."

One of the servers walked past them carrying a stack of dirty plates. "Boss, those new spirit crates are still sitting in the back hall."

Roxane looked at Arthur. "You’ve been sitting there half the night. Be useful."

"I thought I was a customer."

"Then pay for the steak and leave."

Arthur finished his drink and stood up.

He picked up the first heavy crate in the back hallway while Roxane unlocked the cellar door. The passage was narrow. When she squeezed past him to open the heavy iron latch, she deliberately dragged her hips right against the front of his pants.

Arthur leaned in, his mouth hovering right next to her ear. "Keep doing that and these bottles aren’t making it downstairs."

Roxane barely glanced back. "Bottom rack. Left side."

"Heartless woman."

"You’ve been gone for weeks," Roxane said, pushing the door open. "You can suffer another five minutes."

Arthur stayed at the bar, nursing another drink while Roxane kept working.

Whenever she walked past him, Arthur’s hand would rest briefly on her waist. When she poured drinks for the other end of the bar, she leaned over the wood just a little longer than necessary, giving him a perfect view of her cleavage.

"You disappear for weeks and walk back in here expecting dinner," she murmured, wiping the wood near his cup.

"You invited me."

"For food, you filthy bastard."

Arthur looked deliberately down the length of her body. "Could’ve fooled me."

Half an hour later, Roxane leaned across the bar to collect his empty plate. Her breasts pressed against his arm.

"Finish your drink," she told him, her voice dropping low. "I’ve spent enough nights handling myself while you were gone."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You counted?"

"Every fucking night I was pissed at you."

"Sounds romantic."

"Keep talking and you’ll be leaving with your balls still full."

Most of the tavern finally emptied out close to midnight.

The servers started wiping down the tables. Marcus was downstairs finishing the cellar inventory.

Roxane sat at a small corner table, checking the week’s accounts on a ledger tablet. Arthur sat in the chair right beside her.

He rested his hand on her thigh.

Roxane kept writing.

Arthur moved his hand higher, his thumb tracing the bare skin just above her stocking.

"You planning to finish those numbers tonight?" Arthur murmured.

Roxane finally put the stylus down.

She grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Office."

Roxane pulled him up. "You’ve been gone for weeks." She leaned closer, her voice turning dirty and quiet. "I just want what I’ve been missing."

The office still looked exactly like her workspace. The heavy oak desk was covered in receipts, supplier notes, and a ring of iron keys.

Roxane shut the heavy door and locked it.

She turned around and looked him up and down.

"Weeks, Arthur," she said, her hands sliding down his chest to his belt. "Do you have any idea how fucking annoying that was?"

"You survived."

"Barely." She unbuckled his belt and dragged his zipper down.

She dropped to her knees on the rug, pulling him free from his underwear. She took him into her mouth, her lips sliding down his shaft.

Arthur groaned, his hands tangling in her hair.

Roxane swirled her tongue around the ridge, drawing out a sharp hiss through his teeth.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, a smug smirk on her face.

"Still like that?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Thought so." She stroked her hand down his shaft. "The wolfkin didn’t teach you any new manners."

"Didn’t need any."

Roxane went back to sucking him, swallowing his groans while her hand worked the base. She kept it up for minutes, enjoying the control she had over him, until Arthur’s hips started bucking against her mouth, his hands tightening in her hair.

Roxane pulled off him, her breathing heavy.

She stood up, pulling him by the shirt toward the desk.

She hopped up onto the edge of the heavy oak surface, sweeping a stack of supplier notes out of the way so they scattered across the floor. She spread her thighs wide, hooking her fingers into the edge of her lace panties and pulling the thin fabric completely aside.

"Fuck me, Arthur," she breathed, pulling him closer. "I’m done waiting."

Arthur stepped right between her spread thighs. He gripped her hips, lined up with her dripping slit, and drove himself inside her.

Roxane threw her head back with a broken moan, her fingers locking onto his shoulders. When Arthur moved again, she dragged him closer instead of giving him room.

Arthur pulled back and thrust in hard.

Roxane’s nails dug into his shoulders as she dragged him closer. "I’ve waited weeks," she told him. "Don’t start being gentle now."

Arthur drove his hips forward, setting a fast, brutal pace that slammed Roxane’s back against the desk. Heavy footsteps suddenly hit the floorboards out in the hallway.

Roxane’s rabbit ears swiveled toward the sound.

She grabbed Arthur’s shoulder, her nails biting in as she shot him a sharp look.

A heavy knock hit the wood.

"Boss?" Marcus called. "You want me to lock the cellar?"

Roxane took a sharp breath as Arthur moved against her. Her glare could have killed him, but her fingers only tightened in his hair.

"Lock it, Marcus. Keys are under the till." Her voice came out perfectly normal.

"Got it. Night."

The heavy front doors of the tavern finally clicked shut.

Roxane let out a ragged breath. "You filthy fucking bastard."

Arthur grinned. "You sounded very professional."

Roxane shoved him hard in the chest, pushing him away from the desk and straight into the heavy leather chair.

She climbed right into his lap, straddling his thighs, and sank down onto him.

"You thought that was funny?" she demanded, grabbing his collar.

Arthur just laughed, his hands settling onto her hips.

She rode him, setting a demanding, aggressive pace. Arthur’s hands roamed over her body, squeezing the places he already knew drove her crazy. Roxane swatted his hand away when he pinched her side, but a minute later she was leaning heavily into his touch, her breathing turning ragged.

Arthur gripped her waist, changing the angle, and drove his hips upward to meet her.

Roxane gasped, a dirty grin breaking across her flushed face.

"Cocky bastard," she gasped, her hands gripping the arms of the chair.

The heavy leather frame creaked loudly as Arthur kept fucking her.

"You’re paying for this chair if you break it," she warned him, her breath catching as he hit a deep, sensitive spot.

Roxane’s breathing broke apart, and whatever smart remark she had ready never came out. Her fingers dug into Arthur’s shoulders.

"Nothing to say?" he asked.

"Don’t fucking stop."

That was about the last clear thing she managed. She folded against him shortly afterward, still shaking while Arthur held her close until he finished too.

Roxane stayed slumped against his chest for a long time.

Eventually, she opened her eyes, looking over his shoulder at the desk where a pile of supplier sheets lay scattered across the rug, then down at the heavy leather beneath them.

"If you broke the chair," she said, her voice still a little breathless, "it’s coming out of your tab."

Arthur gave her a look.

Roxane leaned down and kissed him again, deep and slow, before pushing herself out of his lap.

Arthur left the tavern sometime after midnight.

He pulled his jacket tight and checked his phone while walking the quiet streets back toward the academy district.

Chloe had finally replied: Infirmary tomorrow. Come by at noon.

He opened Emily’s message from earlier. Did you die in the woods?

Arthur typed back: Almost.

He pocketed his phone, walked through the heavy iron gates of the academy, and headed toward his dormitory.