{Melistair}
The sun hadn't even risen when Melistair slipped out of bed. Margaret lay sprawled across the sheets, her purple skin practically glowing in the pre-dawn light, her massive breasts rising and falling with each peaceful breath.
[Gods, she's beautiful,] he thought just like he did every morning, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead.
Margaret stirred slightly, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "more tongue" before settling back into sleep. Melistair just chuckled softly as he dressed for work.
The manor was quiet at this hour, save for the sounds coming from the kitchen. Javir was already up, as usual, a cup of coffee in her hands as she leaned against the counter.
"Morning, sunshine," she said, her eyes twinkling as she took in his disheveled appearance. "Coffee?"
"Please," he replied, accepting the offered cup gratefully. "You're up early."
"That still surprises you?" She snickered. "Someone has to keep this place running while you lot are busy wearing each other out."
She winked, moving past him to grab something from a high shelf. Her body brushed against his, lingering just a moment too long to be accidental.
[Is she...?]
Melistair had asked himself this many, many times over the last year, but he'd been afraid to overstep so he hadn't acted on it.
Today, he was feeling brave, though.
"You know," he said, clearing his throat, "for someone who claims to be exclusively interested in women, you sure do know how to make a man question things."
Javir laughed, turning to face him with that maddening smile.
"Maybe you're just special," she teased, leaning in to give him her usual morning kiss on the cheek. Only this time, her lips landed dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, leaving him wondering if it was intentional.
"I should get going," he managed, his voice slightly rougher than usual. "Work won't wait."
"Mhmm," Javir hummed, stepping back but maintaining eye contact. "Have a good day."
The walk to the construction site helped clear his head, the cool morning air carrying the scent of fresh bread from nearby bakeries. The city was just starting to wake up, shopkeepers opening their doors, early risers hurrying to their destinations.
Rax was already at the site when Melistair arrived. The nim beamed at him so brightly Melistair nearly had to shield his eyes.
"Morning, boss," Rax called out, his tail swishing as he organized their tools for the day. "Ready for another exciting day of watching paint dry?"
"I'm not your boss. And, it's better than watching your attempts at flirting with the new girls," Melistair shot back good-naturedly.
A few of those new workers, a couple of nim tomboys with short black hair and green eyes, walked around. Maybe it was just the fact that they were around men all day that made them not care, but one of them lifted her shirt to wipe her sweat off her face, showing off toned abs and surprisingly large breasts.
Melistair saw Rax almost drooling.
"Come on, let's get to work," he said, trying to pry his eyes away on his behalf.
And so they got started, setting up for the day's tasks, voices drifted over from behind one of the completed walls.
Melistair recognized them as two of the other newer workers, both nim as well.
"...yeah, but have you seen how they strut around?" one was saying, his voice thick with something ugly. "Those noble bitches, thinking they're better than us."
"Especially that blonde one," the other agreed. "What I wouldn't do to catch her alone in an alley, show her what a real man feels like..."
Melistair's hands clenched around his tools, his stomach turning. He glanced at Rax, who had also clearly heard.
"Just talk," Rax said quietly. "They're just running their mouths. Doesn't mean nothin'."
"Yeah, I know." Melistair forced himself to look away. "Still don't like it."
He'd heard this kind of speak all the time since he started working here. You'd think 9 years would be enough to desensitize him to it entirely, but, no. Especially not now that relations between humans and nim were finally improving. All this kind of talk did was threaten to stop that.
Rax put a hand on his shoulder.
"Look, I get it. But people talk shit all the time. Doesn't mean they'd actually do anything."
Melistair wasn't so sure. He'd seen the way some of the workers looked at the noble women who passed by the site. The hatred in their eyes wasn't just talk.
[Maybe I should mention this to Javir,] he thought, remembering how she seemed to know everything that happened in the city. [Better safe than sorry.]
"Yeah, maybe."
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of work and worried thoughts. The conversation he'd overheard kept playing in his mind, mixing with memories of his daughter's stories about assassination attempts and shadow mages.
[Really feels like the world's changing,] he thought as he hammered another nail into place. [But some people don't want it to. And they're getting bold about it.]
He just hoped Rax was right - that it was just talk, just frustrated workers letting off steam. Because if it wasn't...
---
Melistair pushed open the front door, greeted by the sound of feminine laughter from the living room. He found Margaret sprawled across one of the plush couches, her head in Javir's lap while the sorceress ran fingers through her grey hair.
[Just a year ago, this place was chaos,] he thought, remembering how the halls had echoed with Isabella's moans, Kimiko's teasing, Armia and Raven's sparring, and Armia's dad's booming laughter. Now it was quieter, though no less warm.
"Welcome home, handsome," Margaret called out, making no move to get up. Her dress had ridden up just enough to show off those thighs that still made his mouth water after all these years.
"Were you two waiting long?" he asked, catching how Javir's hand was resting rather high on Margaret's hip.
"Oh, you know," Javir's eyes met his, that same mysterious smile from this morning playing on her lips. "Just girl talk."
"About what?"
"About how much we miss having a man around during the day," Margaret purred, stretching in a way that made her massive breasts strain against her dress.
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[Gods, she knows exactly what she's doing to me.]
"Don't go putting words in my mouth," Javir scolded Margaret playfully. "Anyway, you, my friend, look like you could use a shower," Javir noted as she looked back at Melistair, her gaze trailing over his dust-covered form with obvious appreciation.
"That obvious?" he chuckled, already heading for the bathroom. Behind him, he heard the women's giggles resume.
[I swear, I can't be imagining it, right? Is Javir into me? I dunno. She's always had a playful edge to her.]
The hot water helped ease some of the tension from his shoulders, though it did little for the worries weighing on his mind. When he returned to the living room, toweling his hair dry, he found both women waiting for him.
Margaret immediately claimed his lap as he sat down, her familiar weight settling against him comfortably. Javir took the spot next to them, close enough that her thigh pressed against his.
[This is... new,] he thought, noting how Javir's hand came to rest casually on his arm.
"Rough day?" Margaret asked, noticing his distraction. She shifted in his lap, and he had to bite back a groan.
"Keep moving like that and I won't be able to focus on conversation," he warned.
"Promise?" Margaret grinned, but then saw his serious expression. "What's wrong, love?"
Melistair sighed, wrapping an arm around his wife's waist.
"Just... some of the talk at the site lately. Getting worse." He glanced between them. "Lot of angry nim talking about what they'd do to noble women if they caught them alone."
Javir's grip on his arm tightened slightly.
"Probably just talk," she said, though her tone was thoughtful. "People like to run their mouths."
"That's what Rax said too, but..." He shook his head. "Things are finally getting better between humans and nim. This kind of talk, this hatred... it could ruin everything."
Margaret shifted in his lap, turning to face him properly. The movement pressed her ass against his growing hardness, making him inhale sharply.
"Sorry," she murmured, though her smirk said she wasn't sorry at all. "You're worried about Melisa?"
"Among others. She's right in the middle of all this, you know? Her and her friends, trying to change things."
"Our daughter can handle herself," Margaret reminded him. "I mean, have you seen her lately? She's got half the city wrapped around her finger. Literally."
Javir leaned closer, her breast pressing against his arm in a way that had to be deliberate.
"We'll keep an eye on things," she promised, her lips close to his ear. "That's what we do, right?"
Melistair looked between the two women - his wife and their... whatever Javir was becoming to them - and felt some of his worry ease.
"Right," he agreed, pulling them both a little closer. "That's what we do."
[And maybe,] he thought as both women snuggled closer, [some things are worth being brave for.]