Chapter 472: Romance of All Kinds
Momo sat folded forward on the toilet, her elbows propped on her knees and her face buried in her hands. Her blonde hair hung in limp curtains around her cheeks, and every few seconds, a low, pitiful sound escaped her throat.
Something between a moan and a whimper, you know, the noise of a person who had made poor dietary choices and was now paying the price.
"Hngggggggggggggggg," she groaned as she fully experienced this special bodily suffering. "Mortal body suuuuuuuuuckssssssss..."
Bunny stood in the bathroom doorway, one massive shoulder propped against the frame, a blister pack of lactase enzyme tablets in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
His expression was not sympathetic. He had done this many, many times before and had long since exhausted his reserves of pity.
"Still gonna argue you just have IBS and not lactose intolerance?" He popped two tablets out of the foil and crouched down beside her, pressing them into her palm.
Momo raised her head just enough to glare at him through the curtain of her hair. Her devastatingly beautiful face was blotchy and damp and cosmically pitiful.
"HnggggggggGGGG—huwuwuwuw—" She took the tablets and shoved them into her mouth with the despair of a woman accepting her fate. "I take being scared by horror shit over thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis..."
"Whining again?" Bunny cupped the back of her head and tilted the glass of water to her lips, helping her drink. "Your performance no longer tugs on my heartstrings, woman! Drink!"
Momo gulped the water, her throat bobbing, and then slumped forward again, her forehead pressing against the cool porcelain of the sink cabinet beside her. "You’re so mean to me..."
"I’m mean?" Bunny set the glass down on the counter and crossed his arms. "Who ate half the cheese board while I was plating the burrata?"
"...You don’t love me anymore."
"I love you, but cheese doesn’t, alright?" He reached down and gathered her hair in one large hand, pulling it away from her face and draping it over her shoulder gently. "Next time, take the tablets with the cheese, not after."
Momo made a sound that might have been agreement or might have been intestinal distress. The bathroom was very quiet for a moment, save for the distant hum of the apartment’s heating system.
"...Bunny."
"What?"
"’Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me.’" Momo’s voice was muffled against the cabinet.
Bunny stared down at her for a long moment. Then he sighed, crouched fully beside her, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"I’ll run you a bath," he said, already reaching for the taps.
Momo lifted her head from the cabinet, one eye peering through the tangled curtain of her hair. "You gonna wash me...? Am I not stinky?"
"Your shit smells like rainbows and glitter, goddess." Bunny said flatly.
"Get out."
"No way." He was already rummaging through the cabinet beneath the sink. "We’re bathing together tonight since I’m really going to fast tomorrow. No touching food and water... no touching you..."
"..."
"I’m serious about repenting." Bunny’s voice was muffled as he dug through bottles and jars. "Now, shit everything out while I look for the new bath bomb somewhere in this cabinet."
Momo stared at the back of his head. How can anyone be on his knees searching for a bath bomb right there while she suffered the consequences of her dairy hubris?
"...dumbass."
"Pff—"
***
The apartment had grown quiet.
Cecilia had watched everything. All of it. The convention story, the plumbing card, the library, the club, the bro-code discussions and the moment beyond her recorded self had pulled Oathran down onto that sofa.
One by one, she sent the videos to her own phone. The progress bar crept across the screen with agonizing slowness. She had a feeling she would want to rewatch these.
Not for blackmail, though the thought had crossed her mind, but because they were evidence. Evidence of something she hadn’t known she needed proof of.
That they had talked about her.
The last video transferred. She stood, her legs slightly stiff from sitting too long. The clock on the wall told her it was late. She opened the bathroom door and brought Eastiel’s phone with her.
The living room was a tableau of defeat.
Arkai lay flat on his back on the rug, one arm draped dramatically over his eyes, his wolf ears limp against the floor.
Oathran had migrated from his position to something that resembled a man who had given up on the concept of verticality entirely, sprawled across the length of the sofa, drooping over the cushions like discarded blankets.
Eastiel sat upright against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, his lion tail wrapped around his own ankles, staring at the blank television with a thousand-yard stare.
They had, collectively, lost their souls.
Cecilia stood in the hallway, looking at the wreckage of her three proud boyfriends.
"By the way..." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m sorry for inciting you all to have sex with me in that club."
Three heads turned toward her in unison. Three pairs of eyes, wolf, dragon, and lion, blinked in the dim light.
Arkai was the first to recover. "But we didn’t... record that, right...?"
His voice carried the fragile hope after seeing too much documentation of his own embarrassing past and was praying the universe had at least spared him this one dignity.
"I don’t remember, but I’m actually sure it was me who begged for it, right?"
A collective groan rose from the living room floor.
Oathran pulled an arm over his face. "Being coerced at all... by a drunk person... is... bad."
Eastiel buried his head in his knees, his lion ears flat and his tail curled so tightly around his ankles it looked like a furry tourniquet. "We’re never living this down."
"Probably not," Cecilia agreed, and smiled.
She was quiet for a moment, standing in the hallway with the bathroom light spilling out behind her. The three men on the floor and the sofa were still tangled in their various poses of shame.
But then—
"And..." She looked down at her hands, then back up at them. "I’m kinda horny right now."
Two pairs of beast ears and one pair of pointy ears flickered up. Simultaneously, like soldiers snapping to attention.
"Also..." Her voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible in the quiet apartment. "We hadn’t done anything like that... since that night... right?"
Arkai’s arm slid off his eyes. Oathran slit pupil refocused. Eastiel lifted his head from his knees, his golden lion eyes catching the dim light.
Arkai moved first.
He rose from the rug in a single fluid motion, all predatory grace despite the earlier shame. His wolf ears were forward, tuned to her, and his eyes never left her face. He crossed the living room in three silent strides and stopped just before her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
"You’re sure?"
"Positive." Cecilia fidgeted. "I’m pregnant, not made of glass."
Behind him, Eastiel had risen too, his lion tail swaying slowly behind him. Oathran was still on the sofa, but his eyes tracking her every movement with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"We have to be careful," Oathran said, his voice deep. "No weight on your belly. No—"
"I know." Cecilia stepped backward toward the bedroom. "And no double or triple penetration..."
The beasts blanked. Their mind wiped clean.
Dou—tri—
Was this woman... trying to give them ideas...?
Cecilia bit her lip. Right. They must’ve not done that in this world yet—
"We can save that after... I gave birth...?"
Immediately, her sense of hearing was flooded with three men’s heavy breathing.
She stumbled inside the dimly lit bedroom, the city glow filtering through the curtains. Arkai reached her first, his hands finding her waist. He kissed her slowly while his thumbs traced circles against the curve of her hips.
When she sighed into his mouth, he made a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan.
Eastiel came up behind her, his chest pressing warm against her back, his lion tail curling around her thigh. He swept her hair aside and pressed his mouth to the nape of her neck, and she shivered, her head falling back against his shoulder.
His hands found her belly first before sliding up to cup her breasts through her blouse. Gentle. So gentle.
"You tell us if anything feels wrong," he murmured against her skin. "Anything at all."
"I will." Her voice was already breathless. "I promise."
Oathran slipped around them to the edge of the bed, watching them. His chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.
Eastiel and Arkai pulled her close to him. Then, the dragon’s fingers interlaced with hers, and he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. Then her wrist. Then the inside of her elbow, working his way up slowly.
By the time he reached her shoulder, Arkai and Eastiel had undressed her blouse, and Oathran’s mouth found the bare skin of her collarbone.
They laid her down on the bed. Arkai settled beside her, propping himself on one elbow, his hand under her nape and his free hand tracing the swell of her belly. "Maybe just the tip after all," he said. "Let’s not go all the way in..."
Cecilia’s face reddened. "But..."
This... felt like their first night all over again...
Eastiel pressed his smile against her hip. Oathran made a sound that might have been agreement, his mouth still busy at her throat. And Arkai nipped at her lower lip. They took their time.
"O-okay... just... the tip..."
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