Succubi Chapter 246. Wines and Snacks V

Succubi Chapter 246. Wines and Snacks V

I froze with one sleeve halfway down my arm. “What?”

Val’s eyes shone with inspiration. The terrifying kind. The kind that built empires, scams, and bad ideas with premium packaging.

“We need to escalate this.”

I slowly stared at her. “Huh?”

She grabbed the controller and clicked away from “The Duke’s Contract Lover”.

The screen changed.

A darker title appeared in red and gold letters.

“The Mistress’s Wild Lover.”

I stared at the TV.

Then at Val.

“Absolutely not.”

Rivy choked on her wine laughing.

Val, ignoring my protest like a true Greed demon, skipped through episodes with terrifying precision. “Season two, episode seven. The dressing room scene.”

“Why do you know that?”

“Research.”

“For what?”

“Market behavior.”

The scene stopped at a richly decorated bedroom. On-screen, a handsome man stood before a woman while slow music played. He reached for his collar with the kind of dramatic seriousness usually reserved for dying kings and peeled off his coat like the survival of the nation depended on it.

I stared.

The man turned his head slowly toward the camera, eyes heavy, shirt half-open, somehow undressing for a woman like he had attended a professional academy in weaponized fabric removal.

I pointed at the screen. “Let me guess. That is the plot, the bait, the role, the goal, and probably the entire reason why the movie exists.”

“Now you understand entertainment.”

Rivy leaned toward me, grinning so hard it looked dangerous. “Look, Evan. Educational.”

Val gestured gracefully at the TV. “That’s how you peel off clothes while seducing your girls.”

“My girls?”

Sera lifted her glass with one hand. “Mhm.”

I looked at them.

Val, relaxed and smiling with her shirt slipped off one shoulder, eyes bright with challenge.

Rivy, cross-legged and wild, blood still faintly on her cheek, already enjoying my suffering like dessert.

Sera, sleepy and soft against pillows, tentacles hovering around her like a very suspicious audience.

I raised both hands. “I just want to eat.”

Rivy groaned. “Oh c’mon, don’t be a party pooper.”

I cringed. “Since when did this become a party?”

Val smiled. “Since wine.”

Sera nodded. “And pillows.”

Rivy lifted her meat skewer. “And undressing.”

“That last one was not on the agenda.”

“It is now.”

I glanced at the TV again, intending only to mock it.

Big mistake.

Because my cursed ability, the one where my brain absorbed movement patterns way too easily, started taking notes.

The on-screen lover didn’t just remove clothes. He controlled tempo. He made every pause count. Coat first, but not too fast. Eyes first, then hands. Let the audience anticipate before revealing anything. Turn slightly to create lines. Don’t rush buttons. Use silence. Use gaze. Make them feel chosen.

Two fingers on collar.

Slow pull.

Pause.

Half-smile.

Shift weight.

Remove jacket from one shoulder, not both.

Let the fabric slide.

Annoying.

Cringe.

Effective.

And because I hated losing to fictional men, my Pride immediately sat up.

I could do better.

I placed my food down.

Rivy noticed first. Her grin slowed.

Val’s eyes sharpened.

Sera opened both eyes.

I smirked.

“Fine.”

The room quieted.

“Let me show you something better.”

Rivy whispered, “Oh?”

Val slowly lowered her glass.

Sera’s tentacles rose higher like curtains before a stage.

I emptied my wine and stood.

The low table remained between us, wine and snacks glittering under the room’s dim light. Netplik still played behind me, but I stopped hearing it. The room became warmer, quieter, focused.

I looked at the three of them one by one.

Val first.

Because she started this.

Then Rivy.

Because she dared me.

Then Sera.

Because her tentacles were already acting guilty before committing a crime.

“No touching,” I said.

Sera’s tentacles drooped.

“Yet,” Rivy added.

I pointed at her. “Don’t add clauses.”

Val’s smile returned, slower now. “Proceed.”

Proceed?

This woman really treated seduction like a private investment pitch.

Fine.

I reached for my tie.

My fingers slid under the knot slowly, pulling the fabric loose inch by inch while my eyes stayed on them.

Val’s smile thinned into something focused.

Rivy’s teasing grin faded into a hungry little curve.

Sera’s sleepy eyes opened just enough to prove she was absolutely not asleep anymore.

The tie came free with a whisper.

I let it fall across my palm, then tossed it lightly onto the back of the chair.

My jacket followed next. I turned slightly as the fabric slipped down my arm, letting the dim room light crawl over the line of my throat, the loosened collar, the exposed skin beneath. I didn’t rush the second sleeve. I made them wait for it. Made the silence stretch until even the TV romance actor in the background felt like cheap background noise.

Then came the buttons.

One.

Pause.

Two.

Their eyes lowered.

Three.

The room got warmer.

I peeled the shirt open slowly, not taking it off yet, letting the fabric hang from my shoulders like the last piece of academy discipline begging for mercy. Then I shrugged it away. The shirt slid down my arms and dropped beside the jacket, leaving my torso bare under the warm lamp glow.

Lean muscle. Fight-built. Not noble-gym polished. The kind of body carved by running, dodging, bleeding, healing, surviving, and occasionally making stupid decisions because money existed. My skin still carried faint marks from training, tiny scars, shadows of bruises almost gone. The line of my stomach tightened when I breathed, and the girls noticed.

I reached for my belt next.

Val’s glass stopped halfway to her lips.

Rivy’s knee shifted.

Sera’s tentacles rose behind her like very guilty snakes trying to look innocent.

I held the buckle for a second, smiled, then undid it with a quiet click.

The sound was criminally loud.

The pants stayed on.

Only the belt came free, sliding from the loops with a soft scrape of leather. I coiled it once around my hands, then snapped once like I was gonna use it as a whip before I dropped it.

By the time I straightened again, I wore only my pants, the waistband sitting low enough to be dangerous but not enough to surrender. My hair was messy, collar gone, shoulders bare, chest rising with controlled breath.