Seven Sins System Chapter 674. Not a Balm

Seven Sins System Chapter 674. Not a Balm

I moved one tentacle up her spine, made her back arch like a bow. Then leaned in and kissed her collarbone—slow, too soft. My tongue traced the sweat there before I nipped her shoulder.

She shuddered in my hands.

Evie pulled herself into a kneel behind me, her breasts against my back, her hand trailing down my torso again. She cupped my balls, fingers massaging, playing with them like they were hers. Her breath teased my ear.

“You smell like me,” she purred.

I smiled without turning. “You all do.”

And it was true.

I could smell it on them. My scent, clinging to their thighs, their hair, their fingers. My taste on their lips. My mark in every breath they took. The room was soaked in it. The air thick with our sin.

Claire stroked my cock now, long and slow, base to tip, her hand coated in that familiar slickness. She looked into my eyes with that unreadable elven calm.

Rachel kissed me. Messy, desperate, open-mouthed. One hand on my chest, the other still wrapped around my shaft, guiding it back to where she needed it. I didn’t stop her this time.

I groaned into her mouth, her body guiding me in.

She cried out—again—and the tendrils moved again.

One stroked her spine. One teased Evie’s folds. One wrapped around Claire’s wrist as if begging her not to stop touching me.

We moved together.

No rhythm. Just raw, chaotic pleasure. I’d f*ck Rachel, then slide into Claire. She’d cry out as I stretched her, gasping as I whispered filth into her ear. Evie would ride my thigh, whining, begging, licking sweat off my chest, leaving hickeys on my stomach.

Then I’d roll over, grab Evie, drive into her so deep she couldn’t even moan.

Over and over.

It was never enough.

We fucked like creatures cursed to only ever find relief through ruin. My voice was raw from groaning, from laughing between their cries, from the way they touched me—stroking my shaft with slick hands, kissing the tip, sucking gently, playing with my balls like they were rewards to be earned.

“Mine,” I growled at one point, not even sure who I was talking to.

They answered. In gasps. In sighs. In fingers digging into my skin like they never wanted to let me go.

The bed creaked.

The air steamed.

The scent?

The room smelled like us. Sex. Sweat. My seed. Their bodies. Our war.

Round ten.

Round twelve.

Eighteen.

At some point I laughed—sharp, breathless, victorious. “You’re still begging,” I teased.

“We want more,” Rachel moaned.

“Take it, then,” I growled.

They did.

Until I lost track.

Until my body ached, not from pain, but from being used.

Until I finally collapsed back onto the pillows, breathless, wrecked, their bodies scattered across me like conquered kingdoms.

Rachel across my chest.

Evie curled against my thigh, one hand still lazily stroking what was left of my cock’s strength.

Claire, arms looped around my neck, whispering something about stars.

I let out one final exhale.

The scent of us was everywhere.

And it was perfect.

Because for the first time in months—

I wasn’t pretending anymore.

I wasn’t the doctor.

I wasn’t the quiet, helpful man in the halls of the academy.

I was a devil.

Worshipped.

Wanted.

And free.

But even freedom had weight. Even in victory, something tugged at me.

The room was quiet now—well, quiet enough. The kind of silence that still throbbed with the memory of moans, with the low hum of sore bodies tangled together, the air still thick with sex and sweat and whatever madness had possessed us through twenty-something rounds of pure chaos.

The scent was everywhere. Us. My skin still tingled, sticky in places, warm in others, and my cock—finally soft—rested heavy against my thigh like a soldier who’d been through too many wars in one night.

Evie was curled up on my left, one leg thrown over mine, her tails twitching now and then in some dream I hoped didn’t involve breaking hotel furniture.

Rachel sprawled across my chest, one hand splayed like she was claiming territory even in her sleep, lips parted and cheek flushed.

Claire—of course—rested quietly on my right, chin tucked against my shoulder, her breath even, her fingers gently holding my wrist like it was the tether keeping her grounded.

It was past midnight now.

I could see the soft glow of the city bleeding in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting silver across their bare skin. The illusion-stars still drifted across the ceiling, slow and lazy, like they’d forgotten how fast the world moved outside this room.

And for a moment—I didn’t move.

I just lay there.

Breathing.

Feeling.

But even in the quiet, my mind didn’t stop.

This wasn’t just pleasure. It hadn’t been for a while. And that thought… that stupid little whisper started again in the back of my skull.

‘This wasn’t just an escape, right?’

I stared at the ceiling.

Because I didn’t want that to be true. I didn’t want to believe I was using them as a balm. A way to distract myself from the ache inside. From guilt. From everything that’d gone unsaid since I came here.

My chest tightened.

'Am I?' I asked myself.

It wasn’t loud. It didn’t echo.

But it hit.

I turned my head slightly. Looked at Claire’s peaceful face. Then Evie’s soft snore. Rachel’s hair spread across my chest like fire.

They were satisfied. I could feel it in their bodies. But more than that—there was something real in the way they slept next to me. Not curled up and ready to run. Not distant. Not possessive or afraid. Just there.

And yeah…

Maybe my dilemma had taken too much energy. Maybe I’d spent so long carrying ache and hesitation that I forgot the truth burning right next to me this whole time.

‘They are always with me.’

Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I couldn’t say the things I meant.

I shifted slightly and leaned down, kissing Rachel’s forehead first. She didn’t stir, but her fingers twitched against my chest like she felt it anyway.

Then Evie.

Then Claire.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered—just loud enough for the room to hear, even if they couldn’t.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t confessional.

It was real.

A small thread of truth in a night made of noise.

And then, finally, I let my eyes close.

Let the exhaustion creep in.

Let myself fall into sleep.