This Chapter is close to R18, but it’s not quite one. It’s just a glaze.

Exildra walked towards Bahamut’s room to see if he’d finally woken up. She had been doing this for the past three days, always sitting by his bed for hours, sometimes even sleeping there. Lily and Alana joined her halfway, but she was the one who went there first.

Bahamut had officially become an inner sect disciple, and that would be officialized once he woke up. He would be allowed to stay in Elder Silvia’s residence if he chose or go to the inner sect, but knowing Bahamut for the few weeks, Exildra somehow knew he would choose Elder Silvia’s residence over the inner sect anytime. Just thinking about it brought a smile to her face.

Bahamut was already staying in Elder Silvia’s residence. That was where he had been for the past three days.

Exildra soon reached his room. She opened the door and entered, and came upon a sitting Bahamut who looked up immediately the moment she entered.

"Beautiful..." Bahamut said absentmindedly, making Exildra blush profusely. Exildra was in her sect clothes, but she had rolled up the skirt to train and had possibly forgotten to roll it back down. Her slightly thick thighs were visible from that. Her hair was also damp from the intense training she had gone through before coming to Bahamut’s place. Her hair was all over the place, with a bit of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her clothes also stuck to her because of the sweat, accentuating her well-developed curves.

In actuality, Exildra was older than Bahamut. Elves grew slowly, and a 40-year-old elf would look like a 20-year-old human. Exildra was 37 years old, and since she was nearing the adult age for a human, her curves had become more defined, catching up to her age.

Exildra was beautiful in every sense of the word, and coupled with her current appearance... She was just sexy. Bahamut was justified in saying she was beautiful.

"D-Did you have to..." Exildra muttered as she closed the door and walked towards Bahamut on the bed. She tried to sit beside him, but Bahamut grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the bed, onto him.

"Wait! I am sweaty!"

"Do I seem to care?"

Exildra’s breath hitched as Bahamut’s lips claimed hers, firm yet tender, tasting faintly of the herbal tonic Elder Silvia had left by his bedside. The kiss deepened, her initial surprise melting into a warm surrender, her body pressing closer against his chest. His hands, strong from days of recovery, cupped her backside through the damp fabric of her sect skirt, squeezing gently, the soft give of her curves yielding under his touch. The room filled with the quiet sound of their mingled breaths, her damp hair brushing his shoulders like cool silk, carrying the faint, earthy scent of sweat from her training.

She pulled back just enough to gasp, her cheeks flushed a deeper rose than before, eyes half-lidded and shimmering with unspoken want.

"Bahamut... you’ve been out for days. Are you really okay?" Her voice was a husky whisper, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the subtle stubble that had grown in his unconscious hours. He was sitting propped against the headboard now, the thin sheet pooling at his waist, his bare torso marked by faint scars from whatever trials had led to this: strong, alive, and pulling her in like gravity.

His grin was lazy, predatory, one hand sliding up her back to tangle in her messy hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back and expose the curve of her neck.

"Better now that you’re here. Missed this." He nuzzled there, lips grazing her pulse point, inhaling the salty tang of her skin. Exildra shivered, a soft whimper escaping as his other hand kneaded her thigh, pushing the rolled-up skirt higher, fingertips brushing the smooth, heated flesh beneath. Her body arched instinctively, thighs parting slightly to straddle his lap, the friction sending sparks through her core. The bed creaked under their shifting weight, the wooden frame warm from his prolonged rest.

"You’re impossible," she murmured, but there was no protest in it, only affection, laced with the heat building between them. She rocked against him once, feeling the hard evidence of his arousal pressing up through the sheet, a promise that made her stomach flutter. Her hands roamed his chest, nails dragging lightly over his skin, tracing the ridges of muscle that tensed under her touch. The air grew thicker, heavy with the musk of their closeness, her sweat-dampened clothes clinging tighter as she leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, tongues brushing in a teasing dance.

Bahamut’s grip tightened, one hand slipping under her tunic to caress the bare skin of her lower back, thumb circling in lazy patterns that made her squirm.

"You look like you trained hard. For me?" His voice rumbled against her lips, low and teasing, breath hot on her mouth. She nodded, biting her lip, the motion pressing her breasts against him, the thin fabric doing little to hide how her nipples had hardened from the attention.

"For you," she admitted, voice breathy, her hips grinding down in a subtle rhythm that drew a groan from him. The sheet tented more insistently now, and she felt bold, reaching down to trace its outline with her fingers, light as a feather, watching his eyes darken. His free hand guided hers, pressing it firmer, the heat radiating through the fabric making her pulse race. They moved like that for what felt like hours compressed into minutes; kisses turning sloppy, hands exploring with growing urgency, her skirt hiked up to her hips, his fingers kneading the plush flesh of her thighs, dipping just shy of where she ached most.

Exildra broke the kiss, forehead resting against his, breaths coming in pants that fanned across his face. Her body trembled with restraint, every nerve alight, the damp cling of her clothes now a delicious torment.

"Bahamut... please," she whispered, voice cracking with need, eyes locking onto his with raw vulnerability. "Make me yours."

The words hung between them, a vow wrapped in desire. Bahamut’s expression softened for a heartbeat, then ignited, his hands framing her face as he kissed her deeply, pouring promise into it. He shifted them slowly, laying her back against the pillows with reverent care, his body hovering over hers, weight braced on his forearms. The sheet fell away entirely, but he paused there, lips trailing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone while his hands worked the ties of her tunic loose, exposing the swell of her breasts to the cool room air. She gasped at the sensation, arching up, fingers threading through his hair to hold him close.

He lavished attention there, mouth hot and wet over one peak, tongue swirling in a way that made her toes curl into the mattress, the faint scrape of his teeth sending jolts straight to her center.

"All mine," he murmured against her skin, voice rough with possession, switching to the other side as his hand slid down her side, bunching the skirt higher, palm pressing flat against her inner thigh. The pressure was exquisite, building that sweet ache without mercy, her hips bucking up in silent plea.

Exildra’s world narrowed to him, the scrape of his stubble on her sensitive skin, the rhythmic pull of his mouth, the way his fingers teased higher, brushing the edge of her undergarments, damp with her arousal. She clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, whispering his name like a prayer.

"Yes... like that. Don’t stop." The room echoed with their shared sounds, wet kisses, soft moans, the rustle of fabric as he finally tugged her tunic fully open, baring her to his gaze.

He lifted his head, eyes devouring her, drinking in the flush across her chest, the way her curves heaved with each breath.

"Beautiful doesn’t cover it," he said, voice thick, leaning down to capture her lips again while his hand ventured bolder, cupping her through the thin barrier, thumb circling with deliberate slowness. She keened into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush, the hard length of him nestling against her core through what little separated them.

They rocked together like that, a torturous grind of bodies chasing friction, his mouth never leaving hers, hands mapping every inch he could reach, squeezing her breasts, pinching lightly until she gasped, then soothing with his tongue. Sweat mingled now, hers fresh from training, his from the rising heat, slicking their skin where they touched. Time blurred, anticipation coiling tighter, her pleas turning to breathless chants of his name.

Finally, as her body trembled on the edge, Bahamut slowed, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, his own blazing.

"Soon, love. When you’re ready." He sealed it with a kiss that promised everything, holding her there in that suspended bliss, bodies entwined, hearts pounding as one.