Arrival in an isekai

Your hands trace the curve of Albedo's spine as she moves above you, hips rolling in that focused rhythm that has her breathing turning ragged. Her wings spread wider, black feathers catching lamplight as tension builds through her frame.

"Almost," she manages between gasps, golden eyes meeting yours. "Just a little more..."

You cup her face with one hand while the other slides down to her hip, assisting without controlling. She leans into the touch, movements becoming erratic as her third climax approaches.

"My lord," Albedo breathes, voice cracking. "I'm going to..."

Her words dissolve into a sharp cry as pleasure crashes through her. You hold her steady through the tremors, feeling her body shake violently against yours. She collapses forward onto your chest once it passes, breathing hard.

"That was more intense than I expected," she admits after several moments, voice carrying a tremor. "Three felt like twice that many."

Your fingers trace patterns across her back while she recovers. "You wanted control tonight. You took it well."

Albedo lifts her head, golden eyes still bright despite visible exhaustion. "And now I want to give you what you've been waiting for." She shifts position carefully, sliding lower along your body. "One hour remaining. That should be sufficient."

Her hands move deliberately, fingers mapping familiar territory with renewed focus. When her mouth finds you, the sensation makes you groan despite yourself. She works with practiced skill, alternating between slow deliberate attention and faster rhythm.

"You've been patient all night," Albedo murmurs between movements. "Letting me have exactly what I wanted. Now it's my turn to give back."

She increases intensity, hands and mouth working in coordination. Her wings flutter occasionally, maintaining balance as she dedicates herself entirely to your pleasure. Minutes stretch as she varies approach systematically, learning what draws the strongest responses.

"Tell me what you need," she says quietly, pausing to meet your gaze. "I have time to make this perfect for you."

Your hand moves to her hair, fingers threading through black strands. "Keep doing exactly what you're doing."

Her smile brightens before she resumes with evident satisfaction. The next fifty minutes pass in waves of mounting sensation as Albedo proves her dedication, building pleasure gradually toward inevitable conclusion.

Albedo's hands and mouth work in precise coordination, her golden eyes flicking upward to watch your reactions as she varies pressure and rhythm. She maintains focus with single-minded intensity, refusing to let you recover between peaks.

"You've been patient all night," she murmurs during a brief pause, fingers still moving. "Now I want to feel you completely spent before you leave."

She resumes with increased determination, reading every involuntary twitch and groan to guide her approach. The first climax hits harder than expected, leaving you gasping. Albedo doesn't stop. Her touch gentles briefly before building again, coaxing your body past exhaustion.

"One more," she insists softly when you try to protest. "I promised you perfection."

The second takes longer but proves just as intense. When it finally passes, Albedo sits back with visible satisfaction, wiping her mouth delicately. "Now you're properly emptied. Get cleaned up quickly, my lord. You have a promise to keep."

She gestures toward her private washroom while standing to dress herself. You manage the cleanup in minutes despite residual weakness, and pass through the Library before opening a portal directly to the Russian hotel suite.

You step through to find Oriax still awake at the desk, reviewing documents by lamplight. She looks up immediately when the portal opens, surprise crossing her features before settling into composed acknowledgment.

"You returned," she says quietly, setting down her pen. The words carry weight beyond their simplicity.

You cross to her side, noting the faint tension in her shoulders that suggests hours of focused work. Your arms slide around her from behind, drawing her back against your chest. She stiffens momentarily before relaxing into the embrace.

"You haven't slept," you observe, hands resting gently over hers where they've come to rest atop the desk.

"There was coordination to complete," Oriax responds, voice steady despite the slight tremor when your fingers trace patterns against her palms. "The Russian military confirmed Laura's extraction timeline. Chifuyu will receive formal orders three hours from now."

You lean down to press a kiss against the side of her neck, feeling her breath catch. "Important work. But you've been pushing yourself for hours now."

"I wanted everything finalized before morning," she admits.

Your hands slide up her arms slowly, assessing the tightness in her muscles. "So should I put you to sleep now, or would you prefer to continue working until you collapse from exhaustion?"

Oriax turns her head slightly, meeting your gaze with those ancient crimson eyes. A faint smile touches her lips. "You're teasing me."

"I'm offering you a choice," you clarify, fingers massaging her shoulders gently. "You can keep working if you need to. Or you can accept that you've done enough tonight and let me ensure you actually rest."

She considers this while your hands continue their slow work along her upper back, easing knots that speak to her dedication. Behind you, the portal closes with a soft whisper of displaced air. Grayfia and Yor remain deeply asleep in the bedroom beyond, their exhaustion ensuring they won't wake before dawn.

Your hands slide down Oriax's arms slowly, fingers tracing patterns against the tension still lingering in her muscles. She watches you with those ancient crimson eyes, a mixture of curiosity and wariness flickering across her features.

"I could put you to sleep now," you murmur against her ear, feeling her breath catch. "Or you could keep working until exhaustion takes you anyway." Your lips brush the side of her neck. "Oh, there's a third option, my Oriax. I could ride you like the beautiful woman you are until it's time for me to wake up the Carne Manor."

Her entire body goes still beneath your touch. You feel the moment her composure fractures, the careful control she's maintained throughout hours of coordination work suddenly wavering.

"If you fall asleep," you continue quietly, hands moving to her waist, "I'll leave you there to rest. But if you're still awake when it's time to go..." You pull her up from the chair slowly, turning her to face you. "Maybe I'll take you with me. Continue riding you while I wake up the virgins for their morning routines."

Oriax's breathing has turned unsteady. Her hands come up to rest against your chest, not pushing away but not quite pulling closer either. "You're offering me a choice."

"Always," you assure her, thumbs stroking her hipbones through the fabric of her dress. "What do you want, Oriax?"

She looks down at your hands on her body, then back up to meet your gaze. Something vulnerable flashes through her expression before she speaks. "I want..." Her voice catches. "I want you to take me. Here. Now. Ride me until I can't think anymore."

You lift her onto the desk smoothly, scattering papers that flutter to the floor unnoticed. Her legs part automatically, dress hiking up as you step between them. "And if you're still conscious when I need to leave?"

"Then take me with you," Oriax breathes, hands fisting in your shirt. "Let me watch you wake them. Let me feel you still inside me while you play with virgins who don't know what it means to be thoroughly claimed."

Her honesty strips away any remaining pretense. You capture her mouth in a deep kiss, swallowing her gasp as your hands work to remove the barriers between you. She responds with desperate intensity, centuries of trauma-shielded service giving way to raw need.

"I've got you," you tell her as positioning completes, feeling her trembling against you. "Let go, Oriax. Just feel."

She nods frantically, crimson eyes bright with unshed tears and mounting arousal. You begin moving, establishing a rhythm that has her crying out within moments, her hands gripping the edge of the desk as papers scatter to the floor unheeded. Her crimson eyes lock onto yours with desperate intensity.

"Don't hold back," she manages between ragged breaths. "I want to feel everything."

You increase the pace, watching her body respond. Her first climax arrives quickly, still unfamiliar with her centuries of pent-up need ruining her practiced control. She cries out sharply, entire frame shuddering as pleasure crashes through her nervous system.

"Keep going," Oriax gasps when the tremors subside. "I'm not done yet."

You oblige, adjusting angle and intensity based on her reactions. Her second peak builds slower but hits harder, drawing a broken sob from her throat as her nails dig into the wood beneath her palms. You steady her hips through the convulsions, maintaining steady pressure.

"More," she whispers hoarsely, though exhaustion has started weighing down her limbs. "Please, my lord. More."

The third climax takes longer to achieve. Her body fights between mounting arousal and creeping fatigue, breathing turning ragged in ways that have nothing to do with pleasure. When it finally breaks, the sound she makes is half-moan, half-whimper.

You slow your movements, recognizing the signs. "Oriax, look at me."

She lifts her head with visible effort. Tears streak her cheeks, though whether from overwhelming sensation or emotional release remains unclear. "I can... I can keep going if you need..."

"You've given enough," you tell her quietly, hands moving to support her weight as her legs begin trembling. "Let yourself rest now."

Her eyes flutter closed as the fourth climax approaches unbidden, her body responding even as consciousness starts slipping. The final peak washes through her in slow waves, less intense than the others but somehow more profound. She goes limp against the desk, breathing evening out as exhaustion claims her completely.

You withdraw carefully, noting how her face has relaxed into something approaching peace. After cleaning quickly, you gather her limp form and carry her to the bedroom. Grayfia and Yor remain deeply asleep in their shared bed, undisturbed by your entrance.

You settle Oriax on the room's other bed, arranging a blanket over her naked form. Her breathing remains steady and deep, one hand curling near her face like a child's. The desk in the other room still bears evidence of what transpired, they will see Oriax naked under the sheets and know.

Teleporting to the hidden portal in the Infinite Stratos Academy and walking through, emerging into the crystalline silence of the Multidimensional Library's 1102nd floor. Ambient light filters through impossible geometries of shelving that stretch into perspectives defying conventional space. The air smells faintly of parchment and preservation magic.

Jibril looks up from a reading alcove, wings folding against her back as recognition brightens her features. She sets down an ancient tome carefully before rising to greet you.

"Master," she says, voice carrying warmth beneath formality. "I didn't expect you to pass through for another hour at least. The Russia negotiations must have concluded efficiently."

You cross to her, noting the slight tension in her shoulders that speaks to extended focus on archival work. "They're progressing. Oriax finished the final coordination details."

"And was put to sleep immediately afterward, I imagine," Jibril observes with knowing amusement. Her fingers trace up your chest as you reach her. "You have that particular satisfied expression you get after thoroughly exhausting someone."

"Oh, I have that expression?" you ask without denying, hands settling on her waist. "She needed the release."

Jibril's smile turns pleased. "Then you've come here seeking different company. Should I assume you'd like something more active than archival discussion?"

"I have about half an hour before anyone at the manor wakes," you tell her, pulling her closer. "Seemed efficient to spend it with you."

She laughs quietly, the sound musical in the library's acoustics. "Efficient. What a romantic word choice." Her hands slide up to your shoulders. "Though I won't complain about the practical benefits of your efficiency."

You capture her mouth in a kiss that has her pressing against you immediately. When you pull back, her breathing has quickened perceptibly.

"Is Irene awake?" you ask, glancing toward the workshop corridors branching off the main chamber.

"She was working late on preservation enchantments," Jibril responds, fingers threading through your hair. "I heard movement about twenty minutes ago, so she's likely still conscious. Though whether she's coherent enough for conversation is debatable."

You consider this briefly. "I'll check on her after. Right now I want you."

Jibril's wings flutter with visible pleasure. "Direct. I appreciate that." She steps back, beginning to unfasten her clothing smoothly. "Here in the alcove, or would you prefer somewhere more comfortable?"

"Here works," you tell her, already removing your own clothes. "I'm not looking for elaborate staging tonight."

"Just honest pleasure between us," Jibril agrees, fabric pooling around her feet. "I can work with that framework very effectively."

Jibril pulls you down onto the cushioned alcove seating, her wings spreading beneath her as you settle between her legs. Her hands guide yours to her breasts, encouraging immediate touch.

"You mentioned having half an hour," she says, breath already quickening. "I intend to make full use of every minute."

You lean forward to capture one nipple in your mouth, tongue circling the hardened peak. Jibril gasps, fingers threading through your hair. Her hips lift against you instinctively.

"Someone's watching," you murmur against her skin after a moment, not pausing your attention.

Jibril's eyes flick toward the workshop corridor entrance where scarlet hair catches lamplight. "Irene. She must have heard the portal access." Her voice carries no concern, only mild interest.

You glance over to find Irene half-concealed behind a bookshelf, one hand pressed between her thighs beneath her robe. Her amber eyes meet yours briefly before she looks away, embarrassment coloring her features despite not stopping her movements.

"Should we invite her properly?" Jibril asks, amusement threading through the question.

"Let her watch," you answer, returning focus to the task at hand. "But let's give her a better show."

You increase intensity deliberately, alternating between Jibril's breasts with focused attention that has her moaning within moments. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails digging into muscle as her first climax approaches rapidly.

"Already," she gasps out. "You're very efficient tonight."

"You said you wanted every minute used," you remind her, sliding one hand lower to provide additional stimulation. "I'm simply following instructions."

Her laugh breaks into a sharp cry as the first peak crashes through her. You don't slow, maintaining steady pressure that draws a second climax quickly after the first. Jibril's wings flutter involuntarily, feathers rustling against cushions.

From the corridor entrance comes a softer sound. You look up to see Irene bracing herself against the bookshelf, face flushed as she watches with undisguised arousal. Her hand moves faster beneath her robe.

"Come here, Irene," you call quietly. "No point hiding at this stage."

She hesitates before stepping forward, robe loosely tied and doing little to conceal her state. "I didn't mean to interrupt," she manages, voice unsteady.

"You're not interrupting," Jibril assures her between recovering breaths. "Just observing. Though if you'd prefer participation..."

Irene shakes her head quickly. "Watching is sufficient. I simply heard sounds and..."

"And got curious," you finish for her. "It's fine. Stay if you want. Leave if you prefer. Your choice."

She remains, amber eyes fixed on where you've resumed attention on Jibril. The Flügel's third climax builds slower but proves more intense, her entire frame trembling through the release. You continue through a fourth before finally easing back.

"That should hold you for the morning," you tell Jibril, wiping your mouth casually.

She nods, still catching her breath. "Very thoroughly held. Thank you, Master."

You stand, willing your clothing to instantly restore itself to perfect condition. "I need to get back to Carne Manor before anyone wakes. Irene, get some rest."

The enchantress nods wordlessly, still visibly aroused but making no move to request more. You step toward the Library's central chamber where the Dungeon passageway to Carne Manor glows with soft silver light.