NOVPUB{Jaylin}
Jaylin sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by open books and scattered notes, trying desperately to focus on the words in front of her instead of the silver-haired temptation lounging on the couch just a few feet away.
Margaret had been there most of the evening, nursing a bottle of wine that had gradually dwindled to almost nothing. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol, her silver hair tumbling freely around her shoulders, and the loose neckline of her dress had slipped just enough to reveal the edge of a dark nipple.
Not that Jaylin was looking. Nope. Definitely not.
"You're very diligent," Margaret observed, her words slightly slurred as she took another sip of wine. "All Melisa ever does anymore is complain about your project together."
[That's probably not what she's actually complaining about.]
"She's been busy," Jaylin muttered, tearing her gaze back to her book. "We both have."
"Mmm, I'm sure," Margaret stretched languidly, causing her dress to slip further down her shoulder. "But all work and no play makes for dull, frustrated little mages."
Jaylin swallowed hard, trying desperately to focus on the text in front of her. But it was no use. Not when Margaret's memories kept flooding her mind every few minutes, triggered by the slightest eye contact.
Margaret kneeling before Melistair, his cock down her throat.
Margaret bent over the kitchen table, his hands gripping her ass as he plowed into her.
Even Margaret alone in the bathtub, fingers between her legs, head thrown back in ecstasy.
"I think," Margaret said, interrupting Jaylin's increasingly inappropriate thoughts, "you need a break."
She patted the spot beside her on the couch.
"Come sit. Tell me about your studies. Let me help."
It was a terrible idea. Jaylin knew this with absolute certainty.
"Sure," she heard herself say, rising to join Margaret.
As she settled onto the couch, carefully maintaining what she hoped was a respectful distance, Margaret topped off her own glass and poured one for Jaylin.
"Here. Call it, academic lubricant." She winked, handing over the glass. "Makes the theories slide in more easily."
Jaylin took a large gulp, welcoming the burning sensation that temporarily distracted her from Margaret's intoxicating presence.
"Now," Margaret said, leaning closer, "what are you struggling with?"
[Your tits are literally about to fall out of your dress.]
"Just... magical theory. Energy transference." She took another hasty sip. "Nothing interesting."
"On the contrary," Margaret said, her red eyes gleaming with intelligence despite the wine, "that sounds very interesting. You know, us nim do our own transferences."
"Right. Through sex." Jaylin immediately regretted bringing up the topic.
"Among other things," Margaret agreed, either oblivious to Jaylin's discomfort or deliberately prolonging it. "But there are many ways to create a connection between two beings."
The wine was making Jaylin's head swim. Or maybe it was Margaret's proximity, the faint scent of her perfume, the casual way she tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear.
"Like the time you and Melistair did it in the garden shed," Jaylin blurted, then froze in horror at her own words.
Margaret blinked slowly, her glass pausing halfway to her lips.
"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"
[Fuck fuck fuck.]
"Nothing! I didn't—" Jaylin scrambled for a plausible explanation and found none. "I just meant—"
"How do you know about that?" Margaret's voice had suddenly sobered, her eyes sharp and focused. "We never told anyone about the garden shed."
Jaylin set down her glass with trembling hands, face burning hot.
"I should go. It's late and—"
Margaret's hand shot out, catching Jaylin's wrist before she could escape.
"Jaylin." Her voice was firm despite the alcohol. "Ahh, right... You touched that thing Melisa talked about."
Jaylin froze, her mouth hanging open.
"You... know about the Memory Snare?"
"Of course I do," Margaret said, rolling her eyes. "Melisa explained the whole thing days ago. How you three found some ancient disc that lets you see people's memories when you touch them." She leaned forward, her nipple still peeking out from her dress. "What she failed to mention was that you've been using it to peek at my... intimate moments."
Their skin was touching. Any second now, a memory would flood Jaylin's mind, and she'd be even more mortified. But nothing happened.
[Maybe I'm drunk enough that it's not working?]
"I didn't... I mean, I wasn't trying to—" Jaylin stammered.
"Oh please." Margaret's lips curled into a knowing smile. "I've seen how you look at me, Jaylin. And now I understand why you've been blushing and running away every time I enter a room."
She hadn't released Jaylin's wrist.
"So," Margaret continued, her voice dropping to a sultry purr, "exactly how many of my private moments have you witnessed?"
Jaylin's face went from warm to scorching.
"A few," she admitted, unable to meet Margaret's eyes. "It was an accident. At first."
"And then?" Margaret prompted, clearly enjoying Jaylin's discomfort.
"And then... it wasn't." Jaylin finally looked up, deciding honesty was her only option now. "I'm sorry."
To her astonishment, Margaret laughed—a rich, throaty sound that sent shivers down Jaylin's spine.
"Don't be," she said, leaning closer. "I'm actually flattered. All this time, I thought you were just a shy little thing. Turns out you're quite the voyeur."
"I'M NOT....!" She couldn't add anything else to that sentence.
"Hmm." Margaret took another sip of wine, surprisingly calm given the revelation. "And what exactly have you seen?"
Jaylin's face went from warm to scorching.
"Just... moments. Between you and Melistair."
"Intimate moments?"
Jaylin nodded miserably.
To her astonishment, Margaret laughed.
"Oh, that explains even more! No wonder you've been looking at me like a starving woman at a feast." She leaned closer, wine glass dangling between her fingers. "Did you enjoy what you saw, Jaylin?"
[Is she... flirting with me?]
"I—what?" Jaylin's brain short-circuited.
"My memories," Margaret clarified, her voice low and teasing. "Did they excite you?"
Jaylin should lie. She should absolutely, definitely lie.
"Yes," she admitted instead, the wine loosening her tongue along with her inhibitions.
Margaret's free hand came up to trace the line of Jaylin's jaw.
"I've always thought you were cute," she murmured, her words slurring slightly. "So serious. So proper. Always staring at my tits when you think I don't notice."
"I don't—" Jaylin began, but Margaret pressed a finger to her lips.
"Shh."
She set down her wine glass with exaggerated care and shifted closer, her dress slipping completely off one shoulder to fully expose a breast that defied both gravity and Jaylin's ability to maintain eye contact.
"Just tell me something, Jaylin. Now that you've seen my husband rail me in every room of this house, are you curious about what I might do to that tight little body of yours?"
"..."
Jaylin couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her brain had officially left the building, possibly the country.
"Yes," she whispered against Margaret's finger, which was now tracing her lips with drunken imprecision.
"That's what I thought," Margaret purred, leaning in close enough that Jaylin could count the different wines on her breath. "You academy girls are all the same. So much knowledge in those pretty heads, but what you really need is a good, proper f...—"
Margaret closed the distance between them, kissing Jaylin.
She did so with surprising skill, given her inebriated state. Jaylin's whole world narrowed to the soft press of Margaret's mouth, the confident stroke of her tongue, the small hum of approval as Jaylin tentatively kissed back.
Just as Jaylin's hand started to cautiously reach for that gloriously exposed breast, Margaret broke the kiss, her eyes heavy-lidded but sparkling with mischief.
"I think," she purred, her hand sliding boldly up Jaylin's inner thigh, "we need to have a very... thorough... discussion... about..."
Margaret's words trailed off. Her hand stopped moving. Her head tilted forward slightly.
And then she started to snore.
Not delicate, feminine snores either. These were full-bodied, window-rattling rumbles that seemed impossible from someone of her size.
"Margaret?" Jaylin whispered, frozen in place, her thighs still spread in anticipation.
The only response was another thunderous snore as Margaret slumped sideways, her head landing squarely in Jaylin's lap, her exposed breast now pressed against Jaylin's knee.
[You have got to be fucking kidding me.]
Jaylin sat there, paralyzed by a unique mixture of arousal, disappointment, and absurdity, as the woman of her dreams drooled peacefully onto her thigh.
"Just my luck," Jaylin muttered to the empty room. "Uh... What do I do?"
---
{Melisa}
Melisa shifted uncomfortably in her seat, Isabella's weight on her lap growing heavier as the lecture dragged on.
"Professor Hamlin's voice could put a caffeinated squirrel to sleep," Isabella whispered, wiggling her ass against Melisa's crotch. "Want to skip the next class and have some fun instead?"
"Can't," Melisa whispered back, not bothering to pretend like she wasn't more focused on Isabella's butt than the class. "Javir will kill me if I miss another project session with Jaylin."
[Not that we've actually made any progress,] she thought.
Isabella pouted but settled back against Melisa's chest, her fluffy tail tickling Melisa's nose.
"Fine, but you owe me. It's been days, DAYS since we had sex."
"Shhh!" Melisa hissed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. But the other students appeared either asleep or catatonic from boredom.
When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, Melisa practically shoved Isabella off her lap.
"I'll make it up to you later," she promised, gathering her books. "But I really need to find Jaylin."
"Aww, you're no fun anymore," Isabella complained, but gave Melisa a quick kiss before bouncing away to torment Armia and Raven instead.
Stepping outside into the fresh air, Melisa took a deep breath, enjoying the momentary peace. Which lasted approximately three seconds before she spotted a familiar figure walking across the academy grounds.
Queen Aria was dressed in a simple blue gown rather than her formal regalia, her white hair braided elegantly down her back. She was accompanied by only two guards—a minimal escort by royal standards—and appeared to be examining the academy architecture with interest.
[What is she doing here? Again?]
Before Melisa could decide whether to approach or flee in the opposite direction, Aria looked up and spotted her. The queen's face brightened with a smile as she changed course, heading directly toward Melisa.
[Too late to run now.]
"Miss Blackflame," Aria greeted, her voice warm. "What a fortunate coincidence. I was hoping to speak with you."
Melisa bowed, acutely aware of the other students watching curiously.
"Your Majesty. This is..." [What would they say in the novels?] "An unexpected pleasure." n𝚘vp𝚞𝚋.com
"Walk with me," Aria said, gesturing toward a less crowded path. "I'd like to hear about your progress on our... mutual concern."
The guards fell back a few paces, giving them the illusion of privacy as they strolled beneath the flowering trees that lined the academy walkways.
"I've spoken with Professor Folden," Melisa said, keeping her voice low. "She's familiar with similar phenomena. We're working on a solution."
"Excellent," Aria nodded. "The episodes have been increasing in frequency. Just this morning, I experienced one involving you and that kitsune friend of yours. Most... educational."
Melisa nearly tripped over her own feet.
[Oh gods, what did she see Isabella doing?]
"Nothing to be embarrassed about," Aria assured her, misinterpreting Melisa's reaction. "I've always found kitsune customs fascinating."
"Right," Melisa managed. "Fascinating."
They walked in silence for a moment, the spring breeze carrying the scent of blossoms.
"I must admit," Aria said suddenly, "these visits to the academy have become the highlight of my week. A welcome break from court politics and endless meetings."
"I'm surprised you find time for them at all," Melisa replied. "Running a kingdom seems like a full-time occupation."
Aria laughed softly.
"More than full-time. But we all need moments of respite, don't you think?"
There was something so genuine in her voice, so unlike the cool, composed queen Melisa was used to seeing, that it caught her off guard.
"Yes," she agreed quietly. "I know exactly what you mean."
Aria stopped walking, turning to face Melisa fully.
"I think you do," she said. "Which is why I find your company so... refreshing."
She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing Melisa's hand which, of course, seemed accidental.
But, the world tilted.
Aria stood before a mirror in her royal chambers, adjusting her simple blue gown—the same one she was wearing now.
"This is ridiculous," she told her reflection. "Making excuses to visit the academy just to see her? You're the queen, for the gods' sake. Don't you have anything better to do?"
She sighed, smoothing her hands over the fabric. She turned away from the mirror, her decision made.
"The academy inspection is as good a reason as any. I'll speak with the headmistress, tour the grounds, and if I happen to encounter her along the way..." her smile widened, "...all the better. I could use a break."
Reality snapped back, and Melisa found herself staring into Aria's concerned face.
"Are you alright?" the queen asked. "You went distant for a moment."
"Fine," Melisa said automatically, her mind reeling. "Just... thinking about the project."
Aria nodded, apparently accepting this explanation, but a faint blush colored her pale cheeks.
"I should let you return to your studies," she said, taking a small step back. "But please keep me informed of your progress."
"Of course, Your Majesty."
