December 22, 2025

The Incubus System Chapter 1351. Less Talking, More Scrubbing

They pulled.

Hard.

And I?

I sighed.

Because of course I couldn’t rest yet.

Not when they wanted their turn.

And part of me?

That stupid, cursed, pleasure‑addicted, prince of lust part?

Yeah.

He wanted it too.

The VIP corridor swallowed us the moment the doors sealed behind our backs. Sound vanished first. The roar of the arena, the echo of oaths and hellfire, all of it muted by wards layered so thick they hummed against my bones. The air here smelled cleaner, cooler, laced with faint incense meant to calm demons who’d just watched hours of violence and politics collide.

I barely had time to breathe before Syntyche tugged my wrist and Nefaris caught my collar.

I braced myself.

For being shoved onto a couch.

For being pinned to a wall.

For… something dramatic.

Instead, they marched me straight into the restroom.

I blinked. “Uh—?”

“Wash your hands,” Nefaris said flatly, already turning on the tap.

Syntyche crossed her arms and nodded. “We are not letting that glutton slime touch us. Absolutely not.”

I looked down at my still sticky fingers and sighed. “You say that like I wanted to shake him.”

“Less talking,” Syntyche said sweetly. “More scrubbing.”

So I did.

Hot water. Strong soap. Twice. Then again, just to be safe. The sink was carved from black marble veined with faint red light, runes glowing when the water flowed. The sound was steady. Grounding. My shoulders loosened as the last of the cursed caramel sheen finally disappeared.

I shut off the tap.

Turned.

And that’s when they pushed me.

Not hard. Not aggressive.

Just enough that my balance gave out and I went down on one knee, then the other, palms catching the smooth obsidian floor. I laughed in surprise, breath puffing out of me.

“Oh, so now you—”

I didn’t finish the sentence.

Because they were on me.

Heat first. Then mouths. Then hands everywhere at once, like two storms deciding to share the same sky. Nefaris’s laugh was low and pleased; Syntyche’s breath came warm at my ear as she kissed along my jaw, my neck, my collarbone in a trail that made my wings twitch.

“Clean,” Nefaris murmured approvingly, brushing her thumb across my knuckles. “Much better.”

Their demon garments didn’t fall so much as dissolve. A soft hiss like silk burning away, and suddenly there was bare skin and heat and the unmistakable sense that the room itself was leaning in to watch.

I swallowed.

My hormones threw a party and forgot to invite my common sense.

I didn’t resist. Didn’t pretend I wanted to. Instead, I reached for them, pulling them closer, answering kiss for kiss, heat for heat. The floor was cool beneath my knees, the contrast sharp and dizzying. Their laughter brushed my skin. Their whispers slid under my ribs and settled there.

They knew me. That was the dangerous part.

They knew where my breath hitched. Where my wings reacted. How my tail twitched when I was overwhelmed. They didn’t rush. Didn’t need to.

I pushed back just enough to make them pause, my hands sliding to their waists, my smile lazy and confident again.

“Careful,” I murmured. “You’re not the only ones who know how to play this game.”

Syntyche’s eyes sparkled. Nefaris’s smile turned sharp.

“Oh,” Nefaris said softly. “We know.”

And they leaned in again, heat and laughter and intention tangling together until the room felt smaller, warmer, alive with promise.

Syntyche’s lips brushed the edge of my jaw like a secret she didn’t want anyone else to hear. Nefaris was already behind me, her fingers playing with the base of my tail like it was a piano key she knew how to make sing.

And oh, I did.

“Ngh…” I bit down on a groan, but the smirk that pulled at Syntyche’s mouth said she heard it anyway. She always heard it. Both of them did. Like my body was some kind of instrument and they’d read the instruction manual in a forbidden library somewhere between "Sensual Torture 101" and "How to Make Your Incubus Melt in 3.2 Seconds."

“Sensitive here, aren’t we?” Syntyche whispered, her voice honey wicked. Her tongue flicked against my collarbone, slow and teasing. “Or maybe you just like it when I take control?”

My breath hitched. “I—I like fairness,” I tried. “Y’know… equal opportunities for seduction.”

“Equal?” Nefaris chuckled low against my back, lips ghosting over the tip of my tail. “You mean you want us to go harder?”

Oh. Oh no.

I was trained for this. Literally born for it.

But these two? They were chaos in lingerie. Mischief in motion.

"Careful," I warned, my voice a low, desperate growl. "You might unleash me."

"Oh no," Nefaris mocked, hand curling around my hip. "Whatever shall we do?"

"I’m shaking," Syntyche deadpanned as she pushed me onto the plush couch with a single, wicked smirk. “Terrified.”

They straddled me. One on my chest. One on my lap. I was sandwiched between sin itself, and my hormones were throwing a rave in my bloodstream.

I tried to fight back.

I swear I tried.

Okay, not really.

But at least, I pretended to be.

For fun.

My hands found Syntyche’s waist and I pulled her forward just enough to kiss her collarbone. Her breath hitched. That was good. That was very good.

Then I tilted my head and bit gently, right beneath her ear.

She cursed. "Cheater."

“You started it.”

“And I’m gonna finish it,” Nefaris murmured, dragging her fingers on my skins. She had cold fingertips and warm palms, like someone who could light you on fire or freeze you in place, depending on her mood. Right now? Definitely fire.

I grabbed her wrist and kissed the inside of it, slow and lingering.

Both of them froze for just a moment. It was my turn to smirk.

“Didn’t think I’d fight back?” I asked.

“You’re cute when you pretend you’re in control,” Syntyche muttered.

“Adorable,” Nefaris echoed. But their bodies moved differently now, less smug, more interested. Curious. Like maybe they were wondering just how far I'd push them.