Ren shifted his weight, fingers drumming idly against Koneko's thigh.
"Shrione," he said softly. "Trade me for a minute."
The low murmur cut through the buzz of the clubroom.
Koneko's golden eyes narrowed, tail giving a little flick against his leg.
"Why," she deadpanned.
"Because," Ren said, perfectly straight-faced, "your king is about to start pouting."
Rias sputtered from the other end of the sofa, crimson hair bristling. "I am not—"
Koneko stared at Ren for a long heartbeat, then sighed like the world's tiniest, most put-upon cat. She slid off his lap with practiced ease, tail swishing against his arm on the way down.
"You're shameless," she muttered.
"Absolutely," Ren agreed without missing a beat.
He stood, rolled his shoulders once, then dropped down into the empty space beside Rias without asking. Before she could gather her pride enough to protest, he hooked an arm around her waist and drew her in.
Her body fit against his chest like it had always belonged there.
"You know," Rias muttered, turning her face just a little away so he wouldn't see how red her ears had gotten, "you could've just asked."
Her fingers, however, betrayed her completely—curling into the front of his shirt, holding on as if afraid he might vanish into another world between one blink and the next.
"I thought this was more fun," he said.
His free hand rose, unhurried, fingers brushing a stray strand of crimson hair back behind her ear. The motion was casual, almost lazy.
Rias' heart still stuttered.
"Welcome back… again," she said quietly.
"Yeah." His voice dropped, just for her. "I'm back."
He leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't the shortest kiss they'd ever shared, nor the most restrained. Rias' fingers tightened in his shirt, that calm, dignified devil heiress slipping, just for a moment, into the girl who had once knelt inside a summoning circle with everything to lose and no one left she could trust.
When they parted, her breath came a little uneven. Her blue eyes shone, pupils slightly dilated, the weight of all the things they'd survived flickering in their depths.
Across the room, someone cleared her throat.
"Ara ara…" Akeno's voice rolled over them, smooth as honey and edged like a blade. She stood near the tea set, tray in hand, violet eyes curved with polite sweetness that did nothing to hide the spark behind them. "If you're going to make a scene like that, President, shouldn't you share with the rest of us?"
Asia squeaked and nearly dropped her pen.
Xenovia barked a laugh, chin tipping up.
Irina flapped her hands like a panicked angelic pigeon. "Rias, Ren, t-that's too bold in the clubroom!"
Ren just chuckled.
"Well, you heard the lady," he said. "Sharing is important."
He squeezed Rias' waist once, grounding, then slid his hand down to her thigh and patted it, as if to say I'm not going anywhere. Then he rose.
"Come here," he told Akeno.
Her smile deepened. "Ara, ordering me around now, are you?"
"Just asking you to walk over here," Ren said mildly. "What happens after that is up to you."
She came.
Of course she came.
Bare feet whispering against the polished floor, shrine maiden uniform swaying around her legs, lightning princess wrapped in the guise of the perfect attendant. When she stopped in front of him, she tilted her head, violet eyes half-lidded.
"And what," she asked, voice low, "does our teacher intend to do with his student?"
He lifted a hand and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing the corner of her mouth with infuriating gentleness.
"Appreciate her," he said.
Then he kissed her too.
Akeno didn't bother with restraint. Her arms looped around his neck in one smooth motion, pressing herself against him. For a brief instant the teasing, elegant mask cracked, and he felt the raw, grateful heat underneath—the part of her that still couldn't quite believe someone would choose all of her, fallen blood and all.
When they parted, her cheeks held a faint flush. Her smile had sharpened into something dangerous and warm.
"…Terrible man," she murmured, eyes soft. "Making me happy like this."
"Someone has to," Ren said, casual as breathing.
He moved through the room like that—unhurried, unflustered, a calm center of gravity that affection naturally bent around. He didn't drag anyone into his orbit; he just stood there and let them choose.
They always did.
He sat on the edge of the sofa beside Asia and gently pried the pen from her cramped fingers.
"You're going to bruise your hand at this rate," he said. "And we can't have that."
"A-ah… s-sorry, I just…" Asia looked down at the half-finished homework, then up at him through her lashes. "I wanted to finish before you came so I could… um… spend time with everyone properly."
He smiled, something soft easing into his eyes.
"You did fine," he said. "Homework will still be there tomorrow. I'm not going to vanish on you if you take a break."
Something in her shoulders untied at those words. In her Soul Palace, the little world he'd helped her build, holy and demonic light pulsed in smoother loops than three weeks ago. Myriad Origin caught every stirred ripple and folded it back into growth, no longer leaking away like wasted prayer.
When he leaned in, she froze for half a heartbeat, then closed her eyes as he kissed her—gentle, lingering, a reassurance more than a demand. The kind of kiss that said clearly: you're wanted, exactly as you are.
Koneko drifted back to him on quiet feet, tugging his sleeve once.
"Ren," she said, expression flat, ears a little red. "You skipped someone."
"Have I?" he asked, eyes amused.
She huffed, tail flicking, and tilted her face up the barest fraction, as if presenting a target while pretending she wasn't.
He smiled and obliged her.
The kiss he gave Koneko was simple and direct, more pressure than heat, but it still made her white ears go scarlet. When he pulled back, she mumbled something about "unnecessary displays" without moving away, her fingers hooking into his shirt hem like a cat's claws.
He let Ravel rant at him for three full minutes about logistics, budgets, and the outrageous way he kept "kidnapping valuable assets" for training without informing her first. Then, in the middle of a particularly impassioned complaint about supply lines, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss.
Ravel's words strangled into a startled noise.
"H-h-hey! Ren!" she sputtered, twin drills bouncing as her face bloomed pink. "Y-you can't just— in the middle of—!"
"Your strategic planning is very cute," he said calmly. "It deserved encouragement."
He leaned over Sona's shoulder while she adjusted a board of floating data and demonic script, glasses reflecting calculations as she optimized three different training schedules at once.
"You're overworking again," he murmured, low enough that only she could hear.
"I am not," Sona said reflexively, eyes never leaving her board.
"You are," he replied, brushing a quick kiss against her lips, light as breath. "But I like that about you, so I'll just make sure you remember to stop sometimes."
Her hand, midway through moving a rune-piece, paused for a fraction of a second before continuing.
"…You're impossible," she muttered.
"Mm. You keep me around," he pointed out.
He bumped shoulders with Irina, who was still flustering herself into knots, wings twitching every time someone said the word "date" too loudly. He caught her off-guard and dropped a quick kiss on her lips.
"Ren!" she squawked, wings flaring. "That's unfair, sneak attacking like that!"
"You were wide open," he said.
"T-that's not how that term is supposed to be used…!"
Xenovia watched the chaos through narrowed eyes, arms crossed. When he turned to her, she drew herself up, expression firm.
"I don't need a reward," she declared. "You've already given me the path to strength. That is sufficient."
Ren nodded solemnly.
"Mm," he said. "In that case…"
He stepped in, caught the lapels of her jacket, and pulled her down just long enough to shut her up with a straightforward, unembellished kiss.
When he let go, Xenovia's eyes were very wide.
"…I… retract my previous statement," she said faintly.
"Thought so," he said.
By the time the clock on the wall crept past midnight, the clubroom's atmosphere had shifted.
Books lay forgotten on the table. Tea had gone cold in half-full cups. The air was thick with warmth, the faint scents of magic and sweat, the overlapping pulse of too many heartbeats pressed too close together.
Ren sat with his back against the arm of the sofa, legs stretched out. Rias had reclaimed his lap, curled sideways against him, head tucked under his chin. Akeno leaned along his other side, fingers lazily tracing unreadable patterns over the veins of his wrist. Asia dozed with her head in Rias' lap. Koneko had somehow ended up wedged between his knees, using his thigh as a pillow, tail curled possessively around his ankle.
The others filled the remaining space—Ravel perched on the armrest, arms folded but eyes soft; Sona seated on the floor with her back against the sofa, tablet dark for once; Irina and Xenovia sprawled at opposite ends, their posture scandalous for anyone who still believed church regulations applied here.
They talked. They complained. They laughed about trivial things and heavy things with the same ease.
Underneath it all, their power whispered against his.
Somewhere in the middle of an argument over whose training regimen had the least common sense, Ren's eyes lowered, his attention slipping inward without losing the thread of conversation.
He could feel it so clearly now—the way their Dao Hearts had sharpened since he'd started peeling the world open for them. The way their gazes had shifted, no longer chasing just titles like "Maou" or "Rating Game champion," but something more distant, more terrifying: a path of their own.
In each of their Soul Palaces, tiny new structures glimmered—nascent Dao Fruits of battle sense and self-knowledge, hanging from the Primordial Trees he'd forced into existence. Threads of Myriad Origin looped through each one, catching wasted power, folding it back into their growth.
It was a good note to take.
He rubbed slow circles into the small of Rias' back, listening to her complain about paperwork, misbehaving nobles, and idiotic elders. He told Akeno he liked the way she smiled when she thought no one was looking, that small, fragile curve that had nothing to do with sadism and everything to do with relief. He teased Koneko about her appetite and praised Asia's neat handwriting like it was a divine skill worth bragging about.
Eventually, the chatter thinned. One by one, they noticed the time. Someone locked the clubroom door. Curtains were drawn, lights dimmed until only a soft glow remained.
Ren lifted his head, gaze drifting over the girls gathered around him—their faces flushed with warmth and drowsiness, hair mussed, eyes bright with that familiar mix of longing and determination he'd seen in them over and over.
He smiled.
"Well," he said, voice low and easy, "since we've already kidnapped the night…"
Rias' fingers curled tighter into his shirt.
Akeno's eyes curved, lashes lowering.
Asia covered her face with both hands, peeking through the cracks between her fingers. Koneko muttered something about "noisy humans" even as her tail coiled more firmly around his leg.
Sona's glasses glinted faintly in the low light as she straightened up, tablet discarded at her side. Ravel fussed with the cuff of her sleeve, cheeks pink. Xenovia stretched, joints popping, her expression calm and ready. Irina's wings fluffed, rustling the air.
Ren's breathing deepened.
His aura unfolded, warm and slow as an ocean tide at dusk. It didn't crash over them. It didn't demand. It simply bloomed, filling the space, seeping into skin and bone, a soft, golden weight pressing down on everything.
It was an answer to a question no one had asked aloud.
It was a promise.
The effect was immediate.
Rias gasped, her back arching as heat rushed through her. Her crimson hair fanned out against Ren's chest, nails biting into the fabric of his shirt.
"So that's…" she breathed, "what that feels like…"
Akeno's smile had sharpened into something predatory. Her violet eyes, dark with desire, fixed on Ren. "Ara… quite the gift you've brought home, Sensei."
Asia whimpered, curling tighter into herself. "Haaaah…" Her entire body trembled as waves of bliss cascaded through her. The pure white light of her healing aura flickered, not out of control, but in response, mixing with Ren's golden light in a beautiful, ethereal dance.
Koneko, for her part, had gone completely still. Her white cat ears were flattened against her hair, her tail stiff. She let out a soft groan, her small hands fisting against Ren's thigh. "S-stupid…" she mumbled, her face buried in his lap. "Making me… feel this much…"
Sona's glasses had slipped down her nose. Her usual mask of intellectual control had shattered, replaced by raw, undisguised desire. She stared at Ren, her dark eyes wide, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "R-Ren…" she whispered. "This is…"
Ravel was already on her knees in front of him, her blonde drills bouncing. "Ren… please…" she begged, her hands resting on his thighs, her face flushed with a desperate need. "Let me…"
Xenovia simply stood up, her armor seeming to dissolve into motes of blue light, leaving her in a simple white t-shirt and shorts. She walked towards Ren, her blue eyes burning with a warrior's determination. "I will have you," she said, her voice a low growl.
Irina was practically vibrating, her wings flapping erratically. "R-Ren… this is… this is heavenly…" she stammered, her hands clasped together in prayer. "I… I…"
Ren's smile widened. He looked at each of them, his gaze lingering, loving, full of a deep, abiding affection. He saw the strength they'd found in each other, and in him. And he saw the love, bright and fierce, that they all shared.
And he wanted nothing more than to give them everything they deserved.
"Come here," he said, his voice a low, commanding purr.
They came.
Rias was the first, of course. She scrambled up, her lips crashing against his in a desperate, hungry kiss. Her tongue plundered his mouth, her hands tearing at his clothes. He met her passion with his own, his hands tangling in her hair, holding her close, his aura surging into her, filling her with a bliss that made her knees weak.
"Rias," he murmured against her lips. "My beautiful Rias."
He laid her down on the plush rug, his body hovering over hers.
"If we're doing this," Rias gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, "then don't hold back."
Ren chuckled against her throat, scraping teeth along her pulse point before whispering, "I'm going to ruin you first." His hand slid between her legs, fingers curling just right—not teasing, not gentle, just relentless precision that had her arching off the rug with a choked cry.
When he slid into her wet pussy, it was with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips that made her whimper his name like a prayer.
Akeno claimed his mouth next, her kiss laced with lightning as she straddled his lap, pressing him deeper into Rias.
"Ara~" she purred, grinding down on his thigh, her nails digging crescent moons into his shoulders. "Sensei spoils us too much."
Across the room, Asia was trembling, her small hands pressed between her legs as Ren's aura washed over her in ceaseless, shimmering waves. The innocent nun's cheeks burned, her breath hitching in soft, hitching sobs of pleasure as her mind went blank with it. "Hah… aahn… Ren… i-it's too much… I—"
Then he focused on Asia, pulling her into his arms, her small frame trembling against him. He kissed her gently, a stark contrast to the raw passion he shared with the others. His aura surged, wrapping around her like a warm, golden blanket.
"It's okay, Asia," he murmured against her hair. "Just feel."
Koneko curled against his back, her sharp nails tracing his spine. She bit his shoulder—not hard, just enough to make him glance back. Ren grinned, twisting to catch her lips.
"Didn't forget you," he promised, even as his fingers circled Asia's clit with slow precision. Koneko growled, but her tail curled tighter around his waist.
Ravel's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. "Logistics," she gasped between kisses, "can wait."
Ren laughed against her lips, biting her lower lip playfully before murmuring, "That's my girl." His free hand slid up her thigh, parting her folds with a slow stroke that had her choking on.
Ren's aura pulsed, wrapping around them all in golden waves, amplifying every touch, every moan.
Rias shuddered, her hips bucking up to meet Ren's slow, deliberate thrusts, her crimson hair fanned out on the rug like a spill of blood.
"You're impossible," she breathed, her nails scraping down Ren's back, "always holding back on us."
Ren chuckled, leaning down to bite her earlobe. "Maybe I like seeing you beg," he purred, his hips snapping forward, driving himself deeper. Rias cried out, her back arching, her body tensing as her orgasm washed over her in a hot, blinding wave.
He didn't stop. He kept moving, a relentless, steady rhythm that kept her on the edge, her body humming with pleasure. His aura swelled, a warm, golden tide that washed over the others.
Asia cried out, her body convulsing, her small hands clenching and unclenching as the pleasure peaked, then crested, leaving her a trembling, sobbing mess. "R-Ren…" she whispered, her face buried in his neck. "Thank you…"
He kissed her forehead, a soft, lingering press of lips. "Always," he spoke, his thrusts becoming faster, more forceful.
Rias met him move for move, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, her body rising to meet his. "Don't you dare hold back," she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Show me everything."
He obliged. His aura flared, a supernova of sensation that had them all crying out. Rias's world dissolved into a white-hot haze of pleasure, her body convulsing around him as she came with a scream of his name. He followed her over the edge, his own release a shuddering, powerful thing that left him breathless.
For a long moment, they just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and sweat and satisfaction.
Then Ren shifted, rolling to his side, pulling Rias with him. He kissed her, a slow, deep, thorough kiss that tasted of salt and satisfaction. "My wife," he murmured against her lips. "My queen."
Rias laughed, a soft, breathy sound. "You're such a sap," she said, but her eyes were shining.
Akeno was there then, her hands sliding over Ren's chest, her lips finding the sensitive skin of his throat. "My turn," she purred, her teeth scraping against his pulse point.
Ren smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was hoping you'd say that." He sat up, pulling her onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist. He entered her with a single, smooth thrust that had her gasping, her head falling back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat.
"Ara," she breathed, her hips rocking against his, a slow, languid rhythm. "You're… hah… still so hard."
"I have a lot of motivation," he grunted, his hands cupping her ass, lifting her, then lowering her, impaling her on his cock again and again. His aura pulsed, a steady, thrumming beat of pleasure that washed over the others, keeping them hovering on that blissful edge.
Asia mewled, her small hands squeezing her own breasts, her hips rocking in a desperate, needy rhythm. "So warm," she whispered, her face buried in Rias's hair. "So… hah… good…"
Ren reached out, his fingers finding Asia's clit, stroking her in time with his thrusts into Akeno. Asia and Akeno cried out, their bodies bowing, their orgasm tearing through them, a sweet, sharp ache that left them trembling and spent.
Sona watched, her dark eyes burning with a raw, undisguised need. She was a picture of control, even now. Her glasses perched on her nose, her back was straight, her hands were clasped in her lap. But her breath hitched every time Ren's aura pulsed. A faint flush colored her cheeks.
Ren met her gaze, a silent question in his eyes.
Sona's lips parted. She took a deep breath. Then, she nodded.
Ren smiled. He shifted Akeno, sliding out of her with a soft sigh, then moving to kneel in front of Sona. He took her glasses off, folding them carefully and setting them aside. He took her hands, pulling her to her feet.
"Sona," he murmured, his fingers tracing her jawline. "My brilliant, beautiful Sona."
She shuddered, her control finally, truly, shattering. She leaned into him, her lips finding his in a desperate, hungry kiss. It was a clash of wills, a battle of minds, a meeting of souls. Ren's hands roamed her body, relearning every curve, every hollow. He unbuttoned her shirt, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of her bra.
"So beautiful," he breathed, his lips trailing down her neck. "So perfect."
He laid her down on the rug, his body hovering over hers. He entered her slowly, savoring the feel of her, the tight, wet heat of her that welcomed him home.
"Ren," she gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. "Don't… don't stop."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he purred, beginning to move, a slow, steady rhythm that built the pleasure higher and higher. His aura swelled, a warm, golden tide that washed over the others, keeping them hovering on that blissful edge.
Akeno mewled, her fingers buried in her own pussy, her hips rocking in a desperate, needy rhythm. "Ara… Sensei… you're… hah… so good…"
Rias watched, a soft smile on her face. She reached out, her fingers finding Akeno's clit, stroking her in time with Ren's thrusts into Sona. Akeno cried out, her body bowing, another orgasm tearing through her, a sweet, sharp ache that left her trembling and spent.
Ren's hips continued their steady rhythm against Sona, his hands mapping the lines of her body with reverent care. Each movement was deliberate, each touch a promise whispered in the language of skin.
"Look at me," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against her temple.
Sona's dark eyes fluttered open, hazy with pleasure but sharp with an intelligence that pleasure alone could never dull. Her lips, slightly swollen from his kisses, parted to speak, but only a soft gasp escaped as he shifted his angle, hitting a spot that made her see constellations.
"You're always thinking," Ren continued, a smile touching the corners of his mouth. "Even now. What's the final conclusion of this equation, Sona?"
A faint blush, almost invisible in the dim light, dusted her cheeks. "The… the variable is too high," she managed, her hips bucking up to meet his. "I need… more."
Ren chuckled, the sound a deep, warm rumble in his chest that she felt more than heard. "Gladly," he said, and his pace quickened, the snap of his hips sharper now, more demanding. His aura pulsed, a targeted wave that washed over Ravel, who was watching with wide, hungry eyes, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
Ravel whimpered, her breath hitching as a fresh wave of bliss, sharper than before, rolled through her. "Ren…" she breathed, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the rug. "Please…"
"Patience, my little strategist," Ren said without turning, his focus still on Sona. "Every battle has its order of operations." He reached back, his fingers finding Rias's hair, stroking it gently. "Right, my queen?"
Rias hummed in agreement, her crimson eyes half-lidded as she watched them. "He has a point," she murmured, her own body still humming with residual pleasure.
He gave Sona one last, deep thrust, holding himself deep inside her as she shattered around him, her body arching, a silent scream of pleasure on her lips as she came. He kissed her then, a slow, deep kiss that tasted of sweat and satisfaction, her name a whispered benediction against her mouth.
Then he was moving, leaving Sona a boneless, sated mess on the floor, and turning to Ravel. Her golden eyes were wide, her breathing ragged, her entire being focused on him.
He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. "Your turn," he said, his voice soft.
Ravel didn't hesitate. She launched herself at him, her lips crashing against his, her hands tearing at his clothes, her desperation a palpable thing. Ren chuckled, catching her wrists, pinning them behind her back with one hand. He held her there for a moment, letting her feel his strength, letting her feel the control he had over her.
"Ravel," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "My brilliant, beautiful, impatient Ravel."
She shuddered, her resistance melting away. "Please," she whispered, her voice a raw, needy thing. "Ren… please."
He let go of her wrists, his hands roaming her body, unbuttoning her shirt, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of her bra. He kissed her then, a slow, deep, thorough kiss that left her breathless. He laid her down on the rug, his body hovering over hers. He entered her with a single, smooth thrust that had her gasping, her head falling back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat.
"So… hah… good," she breathed, her hips rocking against his, a slow, languid rhythm. "Ren… you're… so good to me."
"I try," he grunted, his hands cupping her ass, lifting her, then lowering her, impaling her on his cock again and again. His aura pulsed, a steady, thrumming beat of pleasure that washed over the others, keeping them hovering on that blissful edge.
Xenovia watched, her blue eyes burning with a raw, undisguised need. Her hands were clenched into fists, her body taut as a bowstring. She was a warrior, and this was a battle she intended to win.
Ren met her gaze, a silent invitation in his eyes.
Xenovia's lips curved into a predatory smile. She rose, her movements fluid, powerful. She stalked towards him, her naked body gleaming in the dim light, a predator closing in on her prey. She straddled Ravel's face, her hands bracing on Ren's shoulders, her blue eyes locking with his.
"Me next," she growled, her voice a low, rough thing. "Don't keep me waiting."
Ren chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "I wouldn't dream of it," he purred, his hands finding Xenovia's hips, pulling her down. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her, a slow, deliberate exploration that had her gasping, her head falling back, a low moan escaping her lips.
"Ara ara…" Akeno's voice, still breathy from her own climax, slithered through the room. "Always so greedy, Xenovia-chan."
Xenovia growled in response, her hips grinding against Ren's face. "He tastes divine," she shot back, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. "Don't blame a warrior for wanting her fill."
Ren laughed against her, the vibration sending another shudder through her. His tongue swirled around her clit, a slow, torturous circle that had her legs trembling, her breath hitching in her chest.
"R-Ren," she gasped, her knuckles white where she gripped his shoulders. "More… I need more."
He obliged. His teeth grazed her, a light, sharp bite that had her crying out, her body convulsing as her orgasm tore through her, a sharp, intense thing that left her gasping for air.
He didn't stop. He kept up his assault, his tongue and teeth working in concert, pushing her higher, pushing her further, until she was a writhing, sobbing mess, her nails digging into his scalp, her pleas for more and please and stop and don't stop all blending into one desperate, needy sound.
Meanwhile, Ravel, beneath Xenovia, was not idle. Her tongue, fueled by Ren's persistent aura, flicked and swirled, her hands gripping Xenovia's thighs, her own hips rocking in a desperate, needy rhythm. The combination of Ren's thrusts and Xenovia's taste was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and power that had her own orgasm building, a tight, hot coil in her belly.
Ren felt it. He felt the shift in her aura, the tightening of her inner walls around him. He angled his hips, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars, and her world dissolved into a white-hot haze of pleasure. She came with a muffled cry, her body arching, her pussy clenching around him as she rode the waves of her climax.
"Good girl," Ren murmured, his voice a low, rough purr. "My brilliant girl."
He gave Xenovia one last, lingering lick, then pulled back, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Your turn," he said, his hands finding her waist, lifting her off Ravel's face and onto her hands and knees.
He entered her from behind, a swift, deep thrust that had her crying out, her back arching, her knuckles white where she gripped the rug. "Yes," she growled, her head thrown back. "Just like that."
He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against hers, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room, a primal rhythm that had the others gasping, their bodies humming with renewed desire. His aura flared, a targeted wave that washed over Irina, who was watching with wide, teary eyes, her hands clasped together in a desperate prayer.
Irina whimpered, her wings flaring, a fresh wave of bliss, sharper than before, rolling through her. "Ren…" she breathed, her cheeks flushed, her entire body trembling. "It's… it's so warm… I feel… so… so loved…"
Ren's rhythm didn't falter, even as he turned his attention to the girl who hadn't yet been touched by him directly. He met Irina's gaze, a silent command in his eyes.
"Come here, Irina."
She scrambled to obey, nearly tripping over her own wings in her haste. She knelt beside him, her hands clasped, her eyes wide and pleading. "Ren… I… I don't know if I deserve this…" she whispered, her gaze darting to the writhing forms of the other girls.
"Deserving has nothing to do with it," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "It's about wanting. And I want you, Irina. All of you."
Tears welled in her eyes, but they were tears of joy, of relief, of overwhelming gratitude. He leaned in, kissing her tears away, his lips salty with her emotion. "My brave angel," he murmured against her skin. "So strong, so stubborn, so scared to ask for what you want."
"I'm not scared," she protested, her voice a weak, breathy thing.
"Aren't you?" he chuckled, nipping her earlobe. "You've been watching all night, little bird, waiting for me to notice you."
His aura pulsed, a targeted wave of pleasure that had her arching, a choked cry escaping her lips. He guided her to her back, spreading her legs, his gaze reverent. "So beautiful," he breathed. "Perfect."
He knelt between her thighs, but he didn't enter her. Instead, he leaned down, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path from her knee to her core. Irina cried out, her hands flying to his hair, her wings fluttering wildly behind her. "R-Ren! That's… that's…"
"Holy?" he teased, his breath hot against her sensitive folds.
"N-no," she gasped, her hips bucking. "S-sinful… so wonderfully sinful…"
He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through her. "Good," he murmured, and then he tasted her.
It was a revelation. The flavor of an angel, a being of pure light and devotion, was intoxicating. He feasted, his tongue and teeth working in concert, pushing her higher, pushing her further, until she was a writhing, sobbing mess, her wings spread wide, her pleas for more and please and don't stop all blending into one desperate, needy sound. Her body tensed, a bowstring drawn taut, and then she shattered, her orgasm a supernova of light and pleasure that left her trembling and spent.
"Ren," she whispered, her voice a raw, husky thing. "My Ren."
He kissed her, sharing her taste with her, a slow, deep, thorough kiss that left her breathless. "My angel," he murmured against her lips.
Below him, Xenovia's breath hitched, her body tensing. "Ren," she growled, her hips grinding back against him. "Don't you dare stop now."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he purred, turning back to her, his hands finding her hips, holding her steady. He drove into her, one last, brutal thrust that had her crying out, her body convulsing around him as he spilled inside her, a hot, pulse of release that left them both breathless.
He stayed there for a moment, buried deep inside her, his forehead resting against her sweat-slicked back. "My warrior," he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin. "My perfect, stubborn, incredible warrior."
Xenovia shuddered, a low, contented rumble vibrating through her chest. "Always," she breathed, her body relaxing into a boneless, sated heap on the rug.
Ren pulled out, a soft sigh escaping him. He turned back to Irina, who was watching him with wide, teary eyes, her cheeks flushed, her entire body still humming with pleasure. "Your turn," he said, his voice soft.
Irina didn't need to be told twice. She reached for him, her hands cupping his face, pulling him down for a kiss. It was a soft, sweet thing, full of unspoken gratitude and love. "Ren," she whispered against his lips. "My Ren."
"My angel," he murmured in return, settling between her thighs. He entered her slowly, savoring the feel of her, the tight, wet heat of her that was different from the others, sweeter, somehow, purer.
It was a slow, gentle coupling, a dance as old as time, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was both familiar and new. His aura pulsed around them, a warm, golden light that kept the others hovering in a state of blissful contentment, their bodies still humming with residual pleasure, their eyes half-lidded as they watched them.
He took his time with her, learning her body, memorizing her responses. He found the spot behind her knees that made her gasp, the sensitive skin of her inner thighs that made her whimper, the exact angle of penetration that made her cry out his name. He was a patient, attentive lover, his hands and mouth and aura working in concert to bring her to the brink, again and again, only to back off, leaving her trembling and begging for more.
"R-Ren," she gasped, her hands fisting in the rug, her wings flaring behind her. "Please… I can't… I need…"
"I know," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "I know, little bird. Just let go."
He shifted his angle, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars, and she shattered, her orgasm a blinding, explosive thing that left her sobbing with pleasure. He followed her over the edge, his own release a shuddering, powerful thing that left him breathless, spilling deep inside her.
For a long moment, they just lay there, a tangled mess of limbs and wings and sweat and satisfaction.
Then Ren shifted, rolling to his side, pulling Irina with him. He kissed her, a slow, deep, thorough kiss that tasted of salt and satisfaction. "My angel," he murmured against her lips. "My brave, beautiful angel."
Irina laughed, a soft, breathy sound. "You're terrible," she said, but her eyes were shining. "Absolutely terrible."
"And yet, here you are," he teased, nipping her nose.
"Here I am," she agreed, snuggling closer. "Don't ever let me go."
"Never," he promised.
His gaze drifted over the other girls, all of them watching him, their faces flushed with a mix of satisfaction and renewed desire. His aura pulsed, a warm, gentle wave that washed over them, a silent question.
Rias was the first to respond, a slow, seductive smile spreading across her face. She pushed herself up, her crimson hair a wild, beautiful mess.
"Don't think you're done yet, husband," she purred, crawling towards him. "The night is young. And we have so much to catch up on."
Akeno followed, her movements fluid, graceful. "Ara ara," she murmured, her violet eyes gleaming. "Our teacher has so much energy. It would be a shame to let it go to waste."
Asia, emboldened by the others, nodded, her cheeks a delicate pink. "If… if it's okay with everyone… I'd like… another turn," she whispered, her hands clasped in her lap.
Koneko, ever the stoic, just grunted, but her tail, which had been flicking restlessly, curled tightly around Ren's ankle, a clear sign of her desire.
Sona pushed her glasses up her nose, a thoughtful expression on her face. Her tone was dry as ever, "it would be inefficient to end the evening now, when the potential for further… data acquisition… is so high."
Ren chuckled. "Always the strategist, Sona."
"I am a Sitri," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips. "It's in my blood."
Ravel, ever the eager one, was practically vibrating with excitement. "Me, me, me! Ren, I want to go again! I've been practicing! I can take more now!"
Ren's smile widened. "I'm sure you can, Ravel. But remember, it's not about how much you can take. It's about how much you can enjoy."
He looked at Xenovia, who was watching him with a hungry, predatory gleam in her blue eyes. "And you, Xenovia? What's your verdict?"
Xenovia smirked. "I am a warrior of God. I can endure anything. And I desire everything. Give me your best, Ren."
Irina, who was still snuggled against his side, blushed. "I… I don't think I can go again… so soon… but… I want to watch," she whispered, her wings fluttering nervously. "Is that… is that okay?"
"Of course it is, my angel," Ren said, kissing her forehead. "Watching is participating. Your desire is as real as anyone's."
He stood up, his body still humming with energy, a living conduit of pleasure. He looked at them all, at the tangled, beautiful mess of limbs and hair and sweat and satisfaction, and he felt a surge of love so intense it almost took his breath away.
"Well then," he said, a lazy, predatory smile spreading across his face. "Who's first?"
...
Days blurred.
Not in the sense of losing color—if anything, his life was a little too bright—but in the way rivers blurred as they flowed smoothly around stones.
Morning in Profound Sky, where true essence surged like tides and young martial artists bled on stone as they chased a path that didn't have words like "Maou" or "Heaven" attached to it. Evening in Kuoh, where vending machines hummed and devils pretended to be ordinary students while discussing plans that made gods twitch.
Ren never once forgot the Seven Profound Valley, never forgot the disciples bent over the Lantern-Heart Flame Diagram as they learned what "Fire" truly meant.
But he also knew he had time. In this world, the Seven Profound Valley moved ponderously, like old beasts waking from sleep. He had a window before they decided whether he was a blessing or a disaster in need of containment.
He intended to use every heartbeat of that window.
...
The day with Serafall, Kuroka, and Gabriel started with a lie.
"Peaceful outing," Serafall had called it. "Just a casual patrol and some sweets☆."
Ren hadn't bothered to call her on it. He already knew what she really wanted—and, inconveniently, it matched what he wanted as well.
Kuoh's shopping district was busy but not yet crowded, winter light thin and soft, breath fogging faintly in the air. Neon signs buzzed. The smell of fried food, coffee, and exhaust mingled in the cold.
In the middle of it all strode one of the Four Great Satans.
Twin tails bounced. A magic wand sparkled in her hand. Her magical-girl outfit was so vivid that passing couples did double takes, phones half-raised to snap pictures before some faint, instinctive sense of "this is dangerous" made them think twice.
"Levia-tan is on patrol☆ today!" Serafall declared, spinning in place. Her skirt flared dangerously. "We have to protect the human world and also eat crepes☆."
On Ren's left, Kuroka strolled along in an oversized hoodie and leggings, hands tucked into the kangaroo pocket. Her ears were hidden by illusion, but her tail swayed lazily behind the veil, betraying her mood. Golden eyes gleamed with lazy mischief.
"Nyaaa, isn't this more like a date?" she purred. "Levia-tan should call it what it is."
On his right, Gabriel walked with both hands folded lightly in front of her, as if she were drifting through Heaven's gardens instead of Kuoh's side streets. Soft blonde hair, simple dress, eyes bright with innocent curiosity every time she passed a shop window.
"This is 'hanging out', isn't it?" Gabriel asked, tilting her head.
Serafall gasped and whirled, planting herself directly in front of Ren with her hands on her hips.
"Ren! You tricked Gabriel-chan into thinking this isn't a date?!" she demanded, voice rising. "Unforgivable behavior for a boyfriend, you know☆!"
Gabriel blinked, replaying the word like a new hymn line. "…Boyfriend," she repeated under her breath, cheeks slowly coloring.
Under her hood, Kuroka's ears twitched.
"Mm? Then what does that make me, nya?" she asked, leaning into his side with practiced shamelessness. "A side dish? I'll cry if I'm just the sexy appetizer."
Ren laughed, the sound easy, grounding all that chaotic energy like a stone in a stream.
He let Kuroka slide her arm through his left one, tugging his hand into her pocket. He let Gabriel's fingers brush his right sleeve, then quietly took her hand so she'd stop second-guessing herself every other step. He let Serafall orbit them like overexcited fireworks, chattering about idols, ratings, and foreign-policy meetings in the same breath.
"Relax," he said. "Call it whatever you like. I'm here with three women I love. That's enough for me."
Serafall stopped mid-spin.
For a heartbeat, something behind the sparkly persona softened—an older, colder part of her that made gods sit up in war councils. Then she recovered with twice the energy.
"Ehhh? Saying lines like that so casually!" she cried, stamping her foot. "Ren, you're dangerous! Very dangerous! If you talk like that, even a Maou's heart rate will go up—look, look, it's going up☆!"
"Is that a threat?" he asked mildly. "Are you planning to arrest me for heart crimes?"
Kuroka snorted, tail flicking. "Nyaaa, you two are noisy," she said. "If you keep yelling, all the crepes will sell out before we get there."
Gabriel's lips curved in a small, helpless smile.
"I… don't really understand some of the jokes," she admitted, looking up at Ren, "but… it's warm like this. I like it."
He squeezed her hand gently.
"Then that's all that matters," he said.
For the rest of the afternoon, he let them be exactly who they were and didn't try to smooth the edges.
Serafall dragged them into a purikura booth and insisted on magical-girl poses. Kuroka sabotaged half the shots by suddenly kissing Ren's cheek or nibbling his ear just as the camera flashed, then laughing herself breathless when the devil king spluttered in outrage. Gabriel tried very hard to imitate the "peace sign" and ended up with both hands pressed together like she was praying, halo-bright smile at odds with the sparkly pink background.
They ate too many crepes. Then taiyaki. Then some kind of limited-edition seasonal parfait Serafall "absolutely had to try☆."
Ren tasted everything. He praised the sugar, the texture, the little things that made their eyes light up. If his gaze lingered a little longer on the way Gabriel's light flared around her when she found something new to like, or the way Kuroka's tail betrayed her happiness every time she stole the last bite, he kept that to himself.
Underneath the laughter, he felt all three of them clearly.
Serafall's demonic power, vast and cold like deep water, surged in loops that Myriad Origin had quietly reshaped—less waste, more elegance, fewer jagged edges from centuries of overwork. Kuroka's senjutsu and devil aura curled like smoke, threads tightening as her Dao Heart finally began to accept the idea that maybe she didn't have to run anymore. Gabriel's holy light, once keyed only to duty and others, now pulsed with a warmer rhythm—a bell chiming for herself for the first time.
It was kind of cute, in Ren's private opinion, that these terrifying women are hard workers but have a different side.
He told Serafall, "Your laugh could probably defeat half the underworld if you weaponized it," which made her sputter and twirl.
He told Kuroka, "You're dangerous when you're happy. It suits you. Stay like that," which made her ears under the hood flatten with shy pleasure even as her mouth curled into a lazy grin.
He told Gabriel, "You make everything you look at feel a little cleaner. Don't ever let anyone treat that like it's naïve," which made her eyes burn with a quiet, resolute light Heaven had never taught her.
As the sun began to slide down and Kuoh's sky turned gold, Serafall teleported them somewhere quieter.
A little hill on the outskirts. A small shrine gate framing the sky. Wind tugged at clothes and hair, carrying the faint smell of winter earth.
They stood close by habit now, the charged silence between them loud with everything that had been circling beneath the jokes all day.
"Ren," Gabriel said softly. "Um. May I…?"
She didn't finish.
She didn't need to.
He stepped forward, arm slipping around her waist. His other hand caught Serafall's wrist when she tried to turn the moment into a joke, tugging her in, wand bumping against his shoulder. Kuroka tried to sidle into the exact angle that would steal the "best spot" as naturally as breathing.
He simply refused to let go of any of them.
He kissed them together.
Three reactions collided.
Serafall went stiff for half a second—then melted against him with a muffled "mnn—!?" that sounded suspiciously like a magical girl whose show had just been canceled and renewed at the same time.
Kuroka laughed into his mouth, fingers fisting in his shirt, tail lashing with delighted hunger, senjutsu flaring around them like dark perfume.
Gabriel made a small, shocked sound, hands clutching at his sleeves, holy light flaring in a brief, unsteady halo before settling into a warm glow that wrapped around all four of them like a blessing she didn't know how to phrase.
When they finally broke apart, breath uneven, Serafall covered her face with both hands.
"T-that was… you can't just… w-without a warning…" she spluttered.
"You were warned," Kuroka purred. "You invited him out. This is the natural result, nya."
Gabriel touched her lips with trembling fingers, eyes wide and luminous.
"…Ah," she whispered. "So that's… how it feels…"
Ren smiled, calm and shameless.
"Like I said," he murmured. "I'm here with three women I love. Anything else is just details."
Serafall immediately threatened to freeze half the Underworld if he ever fed lines like that to anyone she didn't approve of. Kuroka announced she would be requiring "many follow-up experiments" to test emotional responses. Gabriel, blushing to the tips of her ears, told him very seriously that she would do her best to live up to "being loved like that."
Later, when duties were momentarily set aside and worlds closed their eyes, he proved—thoroughly, patiently, without ever losing that infuriatingly gentle smile—just how serious he was about making each of them feel treasured.
...
Another day belonged to a dragon.
Or maybe he belonged to her, depending on who you asked.
Tiamat preferred places where the sky was too big and the ground too far away for ordinary things to matter. So they met in the Dimensional Gap, on a floating shard of black rock that jutted out of an endless storm like a broken tooth.
She sat at the edge with one leg dangling into infinity, blue hair whipping in the wind, eyes like deep sapphires narrowed against the chaotic void.
Ren walked up behind her with his hands in his pockets, as if he were strolling up to a park bench.
"Brooding?" he asked mildly.
Tiamat snorted without looking back.
"Dragons don't brood," she said. "We… contemplate."
"Mm. Is that what you call 'staring at nothing for an hour' now?"
Her tail flicked in irritation.
Without turning, she reached back, grabbed his sleeve, and yanked him down beside her.
The void howled around them.
To most beings, this place felt like the edge of existence.
To Ren, it felt like standing in the cracks between epochs.
He let his feet dangle over the drop.
"Too many little bugs have been talking about me lately," Tiamat muttered. "It's annoying. Every fledgling that manages to stay in the air without falling on their face suddenly thinks they can 'challenge a Dragon King'."
Ren chuckled.
"Want me to erase them?" he asked. "Could make a decent warm-up."
"Tempting," she admitted. "But then they'd start writing ballads about 'the terrifying man who stands beside Tiamat' instead. That might be worse."
"Hard to say," he said. "I don't mind being your scary background decoration."
She scoffed.
"You're not decoration," she said. "You're…" She trailed off, scowling at the storms. "…annoying."
"That's one word for it."
They sat in silence for a while.
Her aura was different from devils or angels—vast, ancient, heavy, the weight of an existence that had watched pantheons rise and fall from a distance. Most beings brushed against that presence and felt like ants under a mountain.
To Ren, she felt like a dragon-shaped Fate Palace sprawled across the interface of worlds, coils wrapped around entire Dao lines.
"You're holding back," he said eventually.
Tiamat's eyes slid toward him, sharp.
"…I hate it when you see through me," she muttered.
"You love it when I see through you," he corrected, voice amused. "You just hate admitting it."
She huffed.
Slowly, she straightened, ancient eyes sharpening.
"Fine," she said. "If you can see it, you can say it. Out loud."
"You're getting stronger," he said simply. "Not just raw power. Your Dao is smoothing out. The way you ride these storms… every time we meet, you're less at odds with them. Less like you're biting the wind, more like it's listening to you."
He didn't add the obvious comparison—that she was creeping closer to the level where even the Heavenly Dragons would need to pay attention. He didn't need to.
Ren turned his head, studying her profile.
"And yet," he went on, "you're less restless. Less itching for an excuse to bite something. It suits you. You're more yourself when you're not just picking fights out of boredom."
Tiamat blinked.
For a dragon who had seen centuries, she was surprisingly bad at hiding it when something hit her straight in the heart.
"…My, my," she said slowly. "Saying things like that. You really are dangerous, cultivator."
"Mm. You keep inviting me back here. So who's more dangerous?"
Her lips curled into a wolfish smile.
"Good point," she said.
They stood.
The shard of rock trembled under their feet as true power roused.
"Show me," Tiamat said. "Show me this 'Dao' you keep preaching. I'll crush it if it's boring."
"Try," Ren said, grinning.
They moved.
Dragon and man clashed on the edge of infinity.
Tiamat's first step cracked the air.
Blue dragon aura surged around her, laced with the savage wildness of the Dimensional Gap. Space buckled under her feet; her human form blurred as thick coils of draconic true essence wrapped around her limbs like armor.
She struck with her tail.
It was just a swing of her leg in human guise—but the senjutsu and dragon might behind it tore a canyon through the roaring void. Chaos storms parted, a line of raw emptiness left in her wake before the gap rushed to fill it.
Ren raised one hand.
He shifted his weight half a step and met her kick with his forearm.
The impact rang through the Gap.
Winds howled, Chaos Karma flaring around them like furious spirits. The shard of rock they stood on shuddered, fractures spiderwebbing across its surface. Far off, a whole floating island simply came apart under the echo, fragments twisting away into the void.
Ren's arm faintly trembles.
Tiamat's brows rose, delighted.
"Still not using your full strength," she said.
"Complaining already?" he teased. "We just started."
She laughed, low and dangerous, and attacked in earnest.
Her fighting style was pure dragon—no wasted feints, no human hesitation. Every blow was a declaration. Claws flashed in arcs that ripped open miniatures of the Gap's storms, teeth of compressed void snapping at his throat. Blue flame roared from her palm, but it wasn't mere fire; it was draconic might that distorted time and space around it, a flame that could burn concepts if given enough fuel.
Ren moved through it all like water.
His steps were small, but every one sat on a law line only he could see—a twist of gravity here, a patch of slowed time there, a gap in the chaos that only existed because his Immortal Soul Bone had found a pattern in the madness. He used one hand for the entire exchange, blocking, parrying, redirecting.
Where her claws would have shredded flesh, his true essence thickened into invisible armor. Where her flame tried to devour him, the Ancient Ming Bloodline coiled in his cells stirred, predator recognizing prey. The foreign energy poured into him like lava into the sea—impurities devoured, structure traced, the rest converted into something his Dao could use.
They clashed again.
Tiamat swung an arm; a dragon claw of condensed Gap winds tore free, raking across the space where he'd been standing.
Ren's body blurred.
The claw shredded nothing but an afterimage, the force of it carving a deep trench into the storm. For a heartbeat, there was a straight corridor in the Gap, chaos pushed back from its edges. Then reality snapped shut and swallowed the wound.
Ren reappeared at Tiamat's flank and struck.
He didn't use a named technique.
He simply swung his fist. True essence roared, compressed into a tight spiral.
His punch landed against Tiamat's ribs.
The dragon king grunted, eyes flashing.
The impact didn't send her flying. Instead, the stone under her feet exploded downward, their island dropping like a meteor. Shockwaves rippled out, shredding nearby fragments of reality into glittering dust.
Tiamat took a breath, blue aura shivering.
"…That hurt," she said.
"Good," Ren replied, smiling. "Means you're awake."
The grin she gave him in return was all sharp teeth and delighted violence.
"Don't regret it."
Blue light exploded from her body.
She let her human disguise crack, scales shimmering through skin, horns ghosting into existence around her temples, pupils narrowing into predatory slits. Behind her, the phantom of a colossal dragon surged up, head thrown back in a roar that rattled Ren's Soul Palaces.
"You're not the only one who grows," she said.
She dove.
The Dimensional Gap screamed.
Chaos storms twisted and braided themselves into a colossal spear at her command. Dragon fire wrapped around it, tinged with the faint outline of draconic magic old as myths. She threw it, the attack crossing more than simple distance—skipping across layered realities, aiming not at Ren's body but at his existence in this space.
Ren's smile didn't fade.
"Not bad," he said softly.
He planted his feet, his Spirit Sense instantly scanning the attack.
He lifted his hand and opened his palm.
A strand of Petrifying Immortal Light flickered into being between his fingers.
He didn't unleash its full might—this was training, not war—but even the smallest thread carried a seal that had once locked down gods. He met the onrushing spear of chaos-dragon fire and clamped down.
For an instant, everything froze.
Color drained from the spear, edges crystallizing. Dragon fire turned to glass. Chaos turbulence solidified into jagged crystalline shards.
Then Ren shifted his hand.
The tide of death-locking light flowed around him instead of through him, sinking into the Gap below. For a heartbeat, a whole patch of the Dimensional Gap went still, storms held motionless, like a painting.
Then reality remembered itself and shattered the seal, chaos rushing in to reclaim its nature.
Tiamat landed in front of him, eyes wide, chest heaving.
"…Show-off," she muttered.
"Motivational speaker," he corrected lightly.
She stared at him for a long breath. Then she laughed—loud, unrestrained, the sound rolling across the Gap like thunder.
"Fine," she said. "I'll admit it. You're fun."
They went another round.
She pushed harder, testing every new edge of her strength against him. He met her with the same easy shamelessness he gave to devils and angels, but here there was that extra thin edge of challenge—man and dragon, neither willing to bend, both too stubborn to break.
Tiamat roared, he laughed, their blows shaking loose fragments of forgotten worlds.
By the time they finally stopped, the shard of rock they'd started on was smaller, edges jagged and glowing with residual heat. The storms around them had shifted, old currents broken and new ones carved into existence by their clash.
Ren's shirt clung to his skin. Tiamat's breathing was heavy, sweat beading at her temples.
He stepped closer, lifting a hand.
His fingers traced the line of her jaw, thumb brushing a place where a dragon scale shimmered faintly beneath human skin.
"Beautiful," he said.
She scoffed automatically, but her pupils narrowed.
"I know," she started to say.
He kissed her.
There was nothing gentle about the first contact—Tiamat didn't really understand gentle when she was riled. She kissed like a dragon fought: teeth, fire, a demand to be taken seriously or not at all.
Ren met her, unflinching.
He didn't try to crush her or be crushed. He simply refused to be burned away, holding her close until her chaos-flavored power coiled around his like a storm learning a new orbit.
By the time they parted, the void around them had quieted a little, storms settling into new patterns.
Tiamat leaned her forehead against his, eyes half-lidded.
"…Stupid man," she murmured. "Making me want things."
He smiled, voice low.
"Good," he said. "You should want whatever you like. You're a Dragon King."
Her laugh this time was low and satisfied, full of all the things dragons did when they finally trusted someone enough to stop biting first and thinking later.
Later, when pride had been appeased and the fight-rush had cooled in their veins, their "war" shifted into something more intimate. On a bed carved from dragon aura and floating stone, suspended above an endless storm, Ren was every bit as relentless and attentive as any Dragon King could have demanded—shameless, steady, the kind of lover whose terrifying precision came not from tricks, but from truly understanding the women he held.