Ionanthe's Date (Part 3)

Caelan immediately rang the bell to summon Sassafras, then unfurled the scroll that would supposedly take him and Ionanthe back to his room. Like the scroll he’d received earlier that evening, it had the destination Master’s Quarters written on it and nothing else. When he traced the words with his finger, he heard another soft whoosh, and he and Ionanthe vanished from the garden.

This time, Caelan was prepared for his and Ionanthe’s sudden reappearance in his bedroom. “So, here we are,” he began.

He cursed himself for how awkward he sounded. “I’m sorry, I--”

“Don’t be. We all start somewhere. You’ll learn soon enough,” said Ionanthe, a gentle smile in her voice and on her face.

“And besides, tonight we’ll only go as far as you’re willing. If you’ve changed your mind and just want to sit and talk all night, that’s okay too. I’m not going to **** you into anything.”

“But you need points!”

“We all do. No one here wants to become a mindless puppet. But when we all survive the game…” She trailed off, looking at Caelan, waiting for him to finish. She hoped that he did not catch her hopeful over-emphasis of “when”.

“We’re all bound together forever, and since I’m immortal, it’s not an exaggeration. And I don’t want us to…to hate it.”

“You paid attention. Well done.” While Ionanthe’s tone was teasing, there was a clear genuine note.

But before she could speak, Caelan stepped closer to her. He reached out to touch her bare arm, and she closed the distance between them, leaning in for a kiss that he almost eagerly received. Their kisses soon deepened, and Ionanthe pulled Caelan even closer to her with her tail, allowing her to feel how much he wanted her. Meanwhile, Caelan’s wandering hands found the hidden zipper on her dress, and hesitated to pull it down.

“Go ahead,” said Ionanthe, a draconic purr in her voice. “But that means I get to return the favor.”

“So…this is really happening,” Caelan said breathlessly.

As he spoke, he pulled down the zipper, leaving Ionanthe’s dress hanging on her body. She, meanwhile, had already divested him of his tunic with expert ease, and was working her way through the buttons of his shirt. She then removed it completely, and stepped back to admire her handiwork. The sound Caelan made when she stepped back, breaking their embrace, was so uncharacteristic of a paladin that it was cute.

Ionanthe was about to tease him further about it, but then she sobered, seeing the thin black line of a fresh scar on his muscular chest, as though a blade had stabbed him through the heart. Caelan looked at her confused, not sure why her demeanor had suddenly changed. And then she reached out to tentatively touch the scar, and he stiffened. His arousal faded near-instantly, but he remained still as Ionanthe’s hand hovered over his chest.

“...Asmodea’s spell?” Ionanthe asked softly.

“Yeah. It’s healed, it doesn’t hurt, but don’t touch it.” At his request, Ionanthe pulled her hand away. She touched his cheek gently to comfort him, but Caelan didn’t react. The memory of the pain, and then his **** returned to him, and even the knowledge that he was revived, that he was gifted a spark of divinity from Aldir, that he saved Askania, did not soothe it.

“It still looks fresh,” whispered Ionanthe.

Caelan said nothing in response, instead wrapping Ionanthe in a hug that she gave eagerly. They stayed like that for a minute, then another. Finally, Caelan broke the silence hesitantly. “I don’t know if I want to…do anything more….this evening. I’m s--”

“No. Don’t apologize for having boundaries. I meant what I said earlier.”

He did not pull away from the hug, and relaxed slightly when Ionanthe wrapped her tail around him once more. As they embraced, Ionanthe’s unzipped dress slid down off her body and puddled at her feet, exposing blue scales against pale skin, and a magnificently large pair of breasts. Caelan flushed as he caught a glimpse, but he did not move to look away this time. Ionanthe merely moved to let him admire them if he wished.

Ionanthe showed her boobs to the master: +4 VP

“Even though I don’t--” Caelan took a deep breath to gather himself, then finished his sentence. “Even though I don’t want to have sex tonight, can we cuddle? It feels nice holding you like this.”

And holding you helps keep me sane in all this madness. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise, thought Caelan. He knew Ionanthe couldn’t read his thoughts, but he would not be surprised if she figured him out. Or if she felt the same way.

“Of course we can. Do you want me to put the dress back on?”

“No. I mean, whatever makes you comfortable,” amended Caelan hastily. And then, he decided to be honest, since Ionanthe wanted to hear what he thought. “But I really wouldn’t mind if you kept it off.”

“Your wish is my command,” Ionanthe said teasingly, as she stepped out of the black dress, leaving her only wearing the thong. She then sat on the bed as she waited for Caelan to remove his trousers, leaving him in only his smallclothes. They then both got under the sheets, which were softer and more comfortable than anything either of them had experienced, and cuddled up to each other. Caelan, surprisingly, fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow and his arms wrapped around Ionanthe.

Ionanthe cuddled the master: +2 VP

Ionanthe comforted the master: +3 VP

Total: +5 VP

As the happy chimes of earned VP played in Ionanthe’s head, she ignored them, instead focusing on how Caelan unconsciously clung to her as though he was a drowning man and she was a plank of driftwood. She did not have to be a 400-year-old dragon to realize that he was overwhelmed after everything that happened to him-- and to a vast majority of those he loved and cared about, which she realized included herself-- today.

He needed someone to guide him forward, at least while he got used to his new mantle as Master of the Harem Hotel. She realized that she was that someone, because he’d, consciously or not, decided he needed her guidance to save them all. With that realization, she resolved that she would not fail him.

---

While Caelan and Ionanthe were at their picnic dinner, Ginelia watched the proceedings on a screen that she had created with a clap of her hands. She sipped from her cup of dawn-rose tea that Sassafras had just fetched for her, and a small, satisfied smile bloomed on her face, both at the quality of the tea and at Ionanthe’s initiative.

“Sassafras,” she said to the waiting maid, who stood beside her desk.

“Yes, milady? Is the tea to your satisfaction?”

“It’s perfect. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

Sassafras nodded and waited for Ginelia to elaborate.

“On the tour, you told Ionanthe that you’d give her the picnic basket, but when it came time for the date, you told her that it would be at the table in the garden, waiting for her. Ionanthe was polite about it, but it was clear that she was not expecting such a change of plans, no matter how minor.”

The goddess’s tone was cool and neutral, and the smile had faded from her face. With effort, Sassafras kept her face the picture of perfect calm neutrality. “Milady, it was a minor change, and I had thought to make the date easier for the Master and Ionanthe.”

“But such a ‘minor’ change disturbed Ionanthe. What if it ruined her date with the Master? Caused her to attack him?” Ginelia’s voice steadily rose with exasperation, and anger twisted her beautiful features.

Now Sassafras was nervous and then afraid, and the fear crept into her eyes and bled across her face. While Ginelia was genial and polite, Sassafras was reminded of the power difference between them; a goddess was generally orders of magnitude more powerful than a demigoddess, which is what she would be called in this world. She summoned up the words to defend herself, but it was hard to string them together. But before she could speak, the rage vanished from Ginelia’s face, and the goddess burst out laughing.

“Your face! You should’ve seen it!”

“M-milady?”

“Did you actually think I would be angry at you over such a trivial thing? After I asked you to help me test Caelan’s suitability for demigodhood?” asked Ginelia rhetorically, but her smile was still wide. “No, not at all. It’s actually a good idea! I didn’t even think of that!”

“Please explain, milady,” said Sassafras, taking a deep breath before she spoke.

“The women in Caelan’s harem could ascend as well, just by being his favored consorts. Therefore, they need to prove themselves worthy of being demigoddesses before they receive such power. Thanks to Harem Hotel’s magic, we can test them as well as Caelan!”

“Of course, milady--wait, we?”

Sassafras was visibly shocked that Ginelia not only appreciated her initiative, but was encouraging her to take a role in testing the contestants and the Master. She had heard too much gossip about assistants that sought more power and responsibility--either because they wanted a season of their own to host, or genuinely wished to help the host make the season the best it could be--and were punished or even smote by the hosts for their perceived impudence.

“Yes, we. I didn’t even think of testing the contestants outside the challenges! In fact, we can start with minor things like what you did today, and step it up in the later weeks!”

Sassafras breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled genuinely, warmly at Ginelia. “I think that’s a good idea, milady. I would be honored. I promise that my tests will remain reasonable relative to the week, milady.”

“Call me Ginelia, please,” said the goddess. “Would you like to stay with me and watch the Master’s first date?”

“It would be a pleasure, mi--Ginelia,” said Sassafras with a small, genuine smile.

Ginelia snapped her fingers, and a second chair, identical to her own, appeared beside her. She gestured to Sassafras to sit, and the maid did so.

As they watched Caelan’s date play out, Sassafras smiled. She was truly delighted to work for a host that actually respected her. Now, she had to think about good tests for a prospective demigod and his harem of potential demigoddesses.