Academy's Pervert in the D Class-Chapter 56: A new bed

Mira and Elen exchanged a glance, surprise flickering across their faces.

"A new bed?" Mira asked, curiosity softening her tone, her smile tilting with intrigue.

Lor nodded, his grin sly but earnest. "The old one creaks. Hard to sleep well."

Elen chuckled, scratching his head, amused. "Hard to sleep, huh? I guess you bed is pretty old now."

Mira bumped Lor’s shoulder, her laugh warm and teasing. "All right, hero. Something stronger, sturdier—fit for a champion."

Lor pressed a quick smile, his hazel eyes glinting. "Thanks, Mom. Means a lot."

Their laughter mingled, a gentle melody under the lanterns’ glow, the street alive with their shared pride.

The runes pulsed brighter, as if echoing their warmth, carrying them toward home with the promise of rest and new beginnings.

____________

Lor sank into the bathtub, warm water wrapping him with a soft aah, the scent of lavender bubble bath swirling in steamy wisps.

His mind replayed the day’s heat—tests, celebrations, and sly skirt-flips to glimpse lace-trimmed panties, each peek a jolt in his chest.

He closed his eyes, hand drifting low, stroking himself as visions of Eva, Olivia, Nellie, Viora, and Myra flooded in.

They danced in bras and panties—Eva’s blue lace clinging to her full curves, Olivia’s black lace hugging her slender hips, Nellie’s white lace framing her thick thighs, Viora’s red lace flashing, Myra’s black lace teasing with every sway.

Then, the ritual—Olivia straddling his face, her wet pussy grazing his lips, her moans sharp as Eva’s tongue flicked his nipples, nails scraping his chest.

His breath quickened, water rippling with his rhythm, their images stoking a pulsing heat.

Eva’s fiery grin, Olivia’s flushed gasps, Nellie’s shy glow, Viora’s sharp smirk, Myra’s playful wink—each fueled his desire, his hand moving faster, steam thick with his thoughts.

Knock Knock

A sharp knock cut through, a few seconds later.

Lor’s eyes snapped open, his hand pausing, a grin curling his lips.

Who’s that now? Curiosity sparked, his pulse jumping.

"Who’s there?" Mira’s voice called from downstairs, bright and curious, carrying through the house.

Another knock, quick and firm.

Lor sat up, water sloshing, his hazel eyes glinting with intrigue.

Late-night visitor?

He rinsed soap from his skin, bubbles sliding down his chest, and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist, cool against his damp skin.

Mira’s footsteps pattered to the door.

"Coming!" she chirped, the door creaking open. A soft voice drifted up. "I’m Kiara, Lor’s classmate."

Lor was curious, his brows lifting.

Kiara? This late? Why?

He hurriedly dried off, the lavender scent clinging to him, and slipped into a loose shirt and pants by the back door, his damp hair sticking to his forehead.

She ditched Round 3.

What’s this about?

Downstairs, Mira’s voice carried, warm with surprise.

"Kiara, right? That perfect thirty in Round 2—my, you were incredible!"

"Thanks, ma’am," Kiara replied, her tone steady.

Mira’s voice softened, curious. "But you vanished for Round 3. Where’d you go?"

"That’s... personal, ma’am," Kiara said.

"Alright, dear," Mira said, her tone gentle. "Want to wait in Lor’s room?"

"Yes, ma’am," Kiara answered, firm.

Lor stepped out of the bathroom, towel still in hand, as Mira ushered Kiara upstairs, her footsteps light on the stairs.

Mira turned, spotting him, her eyes twinkling.

"Lor!" she yelled, voice carrying. "Kiara’s waiting in your room! Says it’s personal!"

Lor’s pulse quickened, intrigue burning.

Personal?

He’d barely spoken to Kiara—she was all sharp spells and sharper grades, always brushing him off.

Why now, in his house, at night?

His mind flicked to her fiery strut in the arena, that glimpse of black lace under her skirt.

"What’s it about?" he asked, stepping into the hall.

"No idea," Mira said, shrugging, a playful glint in her eyes. "Go find out."

Lor nodded, darting upstairs, the lavender scent trailing him.

He paused at his bedroom door, curiosity tightening his chest.

He knocked softly, the wood cool under his knuckles.

"Lor?" Kiara’s voice came, soft but steady. "It’s me."

He pushed the door open.

Kiara lay across his unmade bed, as if it were hers, legs folded beneath her.

Her jacket hung open, her tight blouse hugging her full breasts, nipples faintly pressing through the fabric.

Her skirt rode high, showing long, smooth legs and plush thighs that gleamed in the lantern’s glow.

Her sharp face, framed by dark bangs, held resolve and vulnerability, her lips soft and parted.

Lor leaned against the doorframe, hazel eyes meeting hers.

"What happened?" he asked, voice low, a playful edge masking his curiosity.

"I need your help," Kiara said, her gaze steady.

"Help?" Lor asked, brows lifting, confusion mixing with intrigue.

"Yes," she said, voice firm. "That Guiding Light bullshit—it’s your bloodline ability, right?"

Lor nodded, his grin flickering. "Yeah, you’re right. What do you want help with?"

She crooked a finger, beckoning him closer. He stepped to the bed’s edge, the air charged with her presence. She sat up, thighs shifting, blouse straining.

"Romance," she said, voice quiet but unwavering.

Silence fell, thick as velvet. Lor swallowed.

_________

Olivia slipped into her house under the evening’s fading glow, the academy plaza’s hum a distant memory.

The day’s trials—tests, chants, and Class D’s defiant spark—lingered in her chest as she climbed the stairs.

The scent of jasmine bath salts beckoned, and she shed her sweat-damp uniform, the charcoal-gray pants and blouse pooling on the tiled floor.

Sliding into the bathtub, warm water enveloped her with a soft sigh, steam curling in delicate wisps, easing the tension from her slender frame.

Her wavy bob clung to her neck, her hazel eyes half-closing as the heat soaked into her skin.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to Lor—his lazy grin, his hazel eyes glinting in the undercroft’s lantern glow.

She saw the ritual again: straddling his face, her bare pussy brushing his lips, his tongue teasing her pussy with slow wet licks disguised as breaths.

Her moans had echoed, her thighs trembling as she grew wet, pleasure overwhelming her shame.

His muffled groans, Eva’s teasing tongue on his nipples—it had been electric, forbidden.

Her breath hitched, hand drifting beneath the water...

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