Lucen's thumbs worked in slow, careful circles—gliding along the thick muscle at the top of her hips, barely grazing the rise of her ass as he adjusted his grip. The silk beneath his hands shifted again, taut over her curves.
He let one hand slide down farther, just to press into the base of her back with a little more weight.
The angle was tricky.
He pulled his hand back slightly, sighed like he was genuinely struggling with the position.
"…It's kind of hard to get the right pressure like this."
Arwen turned her head slightly, voice soft, drowsy.
"Hm?"
"I think it'd be easier if I got on top of you. Just to get the right angle."
He kept his tone casual. Almost apologetic.
But she didn't even hesitate.
"Oh—yes, of course, baby," she said quickly, smiling. "Whatever works for you. Go ahead."
Lucen moved smoothly, one leg swinging over her body as he carefully straddled her lower back. His knees pressed into the bed on either side of her hips, robe brushing lightly against her gown. He sat lightly, not putting all his weight on her, just enough for balance.
Her back rose and fell gently under him.
He placed his hands on her again, this time firmer, the new angle letting him press deeper into the soft flesh at the top of her hips.
He started slow, thumbs pushing down, rolling the tension out with wide, steady strokes.
Her breathing shifted.
Then—
"…Nnh…"
It slipped out of her before she could catch it.
A low, short groan—almost a moan—muffled into the pillow.
She froze.
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.
Lucen paused, just for a beat.
"…Are you okay?" he asked, voice calm.
She nodded quickly, voice soft, flustered.
"Y-Yes, just… surprised me, that's all."
He smiled faintly.
And started again.
Hands pressing deeper now. Smoother. Slower.
The sounds of her breath and the creaking of the bed filled the quiet room.
Lucen's hands rolled along the top of her hips, fingers sliding close to the edge again when the system pinged quietly.
[Quest Complete: Tender Care]
+3% Incubus Bloodline Awakening
Passive Skill Unlocked: Delicacy
(Semen now carries sweet, addictive properties when consumed)
Lucen blinked, glancing toward the panel that flickered into the edge of his vision.
Already?
He flicked open the tracker on instinct.
[Lady Arwen — Affection: 99/100 | Desire: 88/100]
His brow twitched.
He looked down at her—still lying peacefully under him, face turned to the side, one arm draped over the pillow, hair fanned across the bed.
Her breathing had shifted. A little deeper. A little slower. And every time his hands pressed down, her hips gave the smallest twitch.
He leaned forward slightly and let his palms slide lower.
Past the top of her hips.
Onto the full swell of her ass.
Soft. Full. Warm under the thin fabric of her gown.
She flinched—barely—but didn't speak.
Lucen started to knead gently, slow pressure spreading through his fingers. He pressed into the thick curve of one cheek, massaging the muscle beneath.
Then the other.
Then both—thumbs dipping in closer to the center as he worked them like any other part of the body.
But they weren't like any other part.
She moved again—just slightly.
Her hand gripped the sheets.
And then—
"Hh—nnnh…"
A soft, breathy sound left her mouth, barely controlled.
She tensed beneath him, just for a second, but didn't lift her head. Didn't stop him.
If anything, her hips shifted upward. Just a little.
He kept going.
Hands slow. Thorough.
Every time I touch her here… her body reacts before her brain does.
He let his fingers glide over the shape again—press, rub, squeeze.
And her breath hitched once more.
Lucen's thumbs rolled lower now.
Slower.
He pressed into the crease where her thighs met the bottom curve of her ass, thumbs sliding just inside—still outside the gown, but close. So damn close.
Arwen jerked lightly under him. Her hips twitched.
One of her legs shifted, her foot brushing along the bed as her muscles tightened for just a second.
She gasped—quick and shaky.
Lucen didn't stop.
He pretended like it was nothing. Just part of the work.
His fingers pressed again—deeper into the edge, thumbs circling, feeling the warmth of her through the gown.
She squirmed softly beneath him, her breath catching in her throat.
And then—
"Y-You're… really good at this, darling…"
Her voice was barely there.
Low. Breathless. Uncertain.
She said it like she was trying to make sense of it—trying to justify what her body was feeling.
Lucen's lips curled into the faintest smirk.
But his voice stayed sweet.
"Just doing my best," he murmured. "You've worked too hard lately. Let me take care of everything."
His palms slid wider, fingers spreading across the full curve now, working her over with steady pressure. The soft slap of skin shifting under his touch filled the quiet between their words.
And beneath him, Arwen let out another soft, broken sound—
"Ah…"
Arwen's breathing was unsteady now.
Her hips shifted again under his hands, body too warm, thighs lightly pressed together. The tension that had started in her back had traveled far lower. And Lucen's hands—his palms, his thumbs—were still kneading her with slow, steady rhythm.
Touch after touch.
She could feel the way her gown clung to her now. Damp between her thighs. Her pulse echoing in her ears.
And then her voice came out. Soft. Forced.
"...That's enough, darling…"
Lucen paused.
She swallowed, still facing the pillow.
"I-I feel a lot better now… thank you, baby…"
Her words were kind. Gentle. But strained.
One more minute and I don't know what I'd do… she thought. Goddess help me, if he kept touching me like that—
Lucen sat back slightly, easing his hands away.
"Glad I could help," he said sweetly.
She pushed herself up just a little, cheeks flushed, her smile shaky but real.
"You're such a good boy…"
He smiled back at her, eyes wide, expression calm.
As if his hands hadn't just been pressing into her thighs, working her ass until she was dripping through silk.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
"Goodnight, Lucen."
"Goodnight, Mother."
He rose, pulling his robe into place, walking slowly toward the door.
She watched him, breath still a little short.
And when the door closed softly behind him—
She exhaled.
Shaky. Silent. Her thighs still pressed tight. Her body still warm, aching.
Lucen walked down the hall with a calm face.
But in his mind?
Yeah… she was soaking.
He could feel it through the gown when he had his hands on her. The way her breath hitched. The way her hips twitched. How wet the silk got under his palm.
She held back tonight.
Barely.
He smiled faintly to himself as he stepped back into his room.
Next time… she won't.
The morning sun was soft, leaking through the long curtains in streaks of gold. Lucen stood by the mirror, half-dressed, robe hanging off one shoulder as he reached for a fresh shirt.
He was mid-thought—about mana control, maybe training later with Arwen—when the door creaked open behind him.
Click… creaaaak…
He glanced toward it.
And froze.
A young maid stood there, holding a small tray and a feather duster tucked under one arm. Her eyes widened the moment she saw him—bare-chested, lean, robe open, light brushing over his pale skin and stomach.
She froze like she'd seen a ghost.
Lucen recognized her immediately.
Lumi.
Petite frame, maybe a little over five feet. She had soft honey-brown hair tied in a neat low braid, a few strands falling out around her face. Light freckles across her cheeks, and round amber eyes that always looked too innocent for her own good.
She wasn't dressed fancy—just the standard black-and-white maid uniform—but her figure filled it out better than she probably realized. Modest curves, a little bounce in her step when she walked, and those long legs under the short hem of her skirt always had a certain... charm.
Right now, though?
She looked like she wanted to disappear.
"I—I—Young Master!" she stammered, nearly dropping the tray.
Lucen raised a brow.
She bowed quickly, head down, voice fast. "I-I'm so sorry! I forgot—habit—I usually come to tidy up early and I didn't mean to barge in—!"
He blinked.
Then smiled faintly.
So she really was the one who ran to call Mother that day... The same Lumi who's been around since the original Lucen was young.
She was still standing frozen in the doorway, red all the way to her ears.
Lucen pulled the robe up slightly but didn't close it all the way.
"…Morning, Lumi."
She looked up, eyes flicking to his chest again before darting away like she was burned.
"I-It's good to see you awake," she said quickly. "Truly… I didn't think—I mean—we all thought…"
Her voice trailed off.
Lucen tilted his head, calm.
"You were coming to clean?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes, young master! Every morning, same time, I've been doing it since…"
He smiled a little more.
"Since I was small?"
She nodded again, hands gripping the tray tight.
Her eyes flicked back to his chest—then down. Then away again.
And Lucen could already tell—
She didn't know where to look.
Lucen turned fully to face her now, the robe still loose around his waist, chest completely exposed. The sunlight caught along his collarbones, tracing the smooth line of his body as he tilted his head slightly.
Lumi stood stiff in the doorway, cheeks burning, eyes locked somewhere near the floorboards.
He smirked.
"What's got you so nervous?" he asked softly, voice smooth with just the right edge. "Didn't you change my clothes while I was unconscious?"
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
"I… I did, Young Master," she said quickly, head bowing again. "I-It was part of the daily care, I just—when you were resting, I only did what Lady Arwen instructed, and I never—"
Lucen stepped closer, slow.
She froze.
"You probably saw more than this already, didn't you?" he said, his tone lower now, a little playful. "Unless it was the other maids…"
Her eyes widened.
She shook her head fast.
"N-No, Young Master! It was me—only me. I handled everything personally."
He smiled, letting that settle.
She looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her.
"But still…" she added, voice small, "i-it's different…"
He raised a brow. "Different?"
Her eyes flicked up—barely—then darted away again.
"It's… not the same when you're unconscious, Young Master," she mumbled, fidgeting with the edge of her skirt. "Seeing you like this… talking, standing, looking…"
She didn't finish the sentence.
Didn't need to.
Lucen took another slow step forward, now just a few feet from her.
Lucen tilted his head, then suddenly brought his arms around himself in a mock hug, squeezing his own sides and giving her this wide-eyed, exaggerated stare.
"Lumi…" he said, voice low and shaky like a bad actor faking innocence. "Don't look at me like that… I'm vulnerable…"
Her eyes went wide.
"Y-Young Master—!"
He broke into a quiet laugh, grinning as he straightened up.
"Gods, I love teasing a nervous little rabbit like you."
Lumi's whole face turned red.
She lowered her head so fast her braid flipped over her shoulder.
"I-It's not fair, Young Master…" she muttered, flustered, voice barely holding itself together. "You know I'm just trying to do my duty…"
Lucen stepped past her casually, brushing her shoulder with his as he walked by—letting her feel just how close his bare chest was.
"Then keep doing it," he said, voice cool and easy. "I don't mind you looking."
She froze again.