Lor kept his tone casual, brushing off the praise.

"Then that's good." He shifted toward the door, his hand brushing the worn doorknob, ready to slip away, or that's what he wanted them to see.

"Wait," they said in unison, their voices overlapping in the dusty quiet.

Lor paused, his back to them, a slow, knowing smile creeping across his face, hidden from their view.

He let the silence stretch, their hesitant breathing filling the space, a faint rhythm that quickened his pulse.

Then he turned, his hazel eyes wide with feigned surprise, the picture of innocence.

"Something else?"

Myra and Viora exchanged a glance, Myra's blush deepening, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her skirt, Viora's steady posture betraying a faint tremor in her hands.

The air thickened, charged with unspoken tension, the memory of their last ritual hanging between them like a warm fog.

"Usually," Viora said, her voice careful, measured, "the Light asks for something in return."

Myra's eyes flicked to Viora, then back to Lor, her voice softer. "Is it… free this time?"

Lor let his smile shift, softening into something weary, almost kind, his fingers toying with the edge of his sleeve as if caught in a moment of vulnerability.

"No. The Light never gives without taking." His voice was low, threaded with just enough reluctance to sell the act.

Myra's brown eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. "Then what's it taking this time?"

He looked down, his gaze tracing the dusty floor, letting the pause linger like a held breath.

"The toll's on me. I'll feel it later—drained, tired, maybe out of it for a few days." He sighed, the sound practiced but convincing, his shoulders slumping just enough to look burdened.

Viora shook her head, her green ponytail swaying, her arms finally uncrossing as she stepped closer.

"That's not fair. If it helped us, we should be the ones to pay." Her voice was firm, but her eyes held a flicker of worry, her skirt clinging to her thick thighs as she moved.

"It's fine," Lor said, his tone soft, almost self-sacrificing. "The Light's been asking for… heavier things lately. You don't need to worry about it."

He let the words hang, vague and heavy, watching their faces shift—Myra's nervous curiosity, Viora's cautious resolve.

The quiet stretched, dust motes drifting lazily in the golden sunlight, the room's stillness amplifying every small sound—their breathing, the faint creak of the floor.

Myra glanced at Viora again, their eyes locking in a silent conversation, Myra's warmth edging into awkward bravery, Viora's steadiness barely hiding her nerves.

They'd always been a pair—childhood friends, bench mates, neighbors—but in that look, they agreed on something.

"We'll give it what it wants," Myra said, her voice low but firm, her cheeks flushed as she stepped closer, her shirt straining slightly against her breasts. "You shouldn't suffer for us, Lor."

He studied them, letting the moment settle, his half-smile soft but his hazel eyes sharp, reading the resolve beneath their embarrassment.

"You don't know what you're offering," he said, his voice a quiet warning, laced with just enough hesitation to draw them in.

"Then tell us," Viora replied, her green eyes steady, her hands now loose at her sides, the red lace of her panties catching the light as she shifted. "What does the Light want?"

Lor exhaled, long and slow, his gaze moving from Myra's flushed face to Viora's determined one, letting the weight of the question linger.

Then he spoke, barely above a whisper, the words slipping out like a secret. "Maybe… it just wants to be pleased."

The room froze for a heartbeat, the words hanging heavy, charged, dangerous.

Viora's throat bobbed as she swallowed, her curvy frame tense.

Myra's fingers tightened at her sides, her brown eyes wide but unwavering.

They exchanged one more glance, a silent agreement passing between them, their shared history and the memory of that first ritual.

Lor waited, motionless, his lazy grin gone, replaced by a look of quiet expectation, his hazel eyes glinting with a spark of something unreadable—lust, cunning, or maybe a flicker of care he'd never admit to.

Myra spoke first, her voice low but steady. "Then we'll follow where it leads."

He nodded once, slow, his expression unchanged but his pulse quickening, the air thick with anticipation.

The door latch clicked into place, Myra's hand lingering on it as she secured the room.

The faint gray light filtering through the cracked window cast soft shadows across their faces, highlighting the flush on Myra's freckled cheeks and the determined glint in Viora's green eyes.

Lor stood motionless, his lean frame silhouetted against the desk, his black hair falling messily into his hazel eyes.

His expression was unreadable, a careful mask of calm, but the spark in his gaze betrayed the heat curling through him.

Myra stepped forward first, her brunette curls bouncing slightly, her shirt clinging to her breasts as she moved.

Viora followed, her green ponytail swaying, her skirt hugging her thick thighs.

There was no hesitation in their steps, no shy glances or nervous giggles—just a forced shared resolve, a silent agreement and pseudo surrender.

Lor's lips curved into a faint smirk, his hands steady as he reached for the hem of his shirt.

"Alright," he said, his voice low, rough with anticipation.

"If you're sure."

He tugged the shirt over his head in one smooth motion, revealing the lean planes of his chest, his skin pale but taut over muscle.

The fabric hit the floor with a soft thud, and he caught the way Myra's brown eyes flicked to his torso, her breath hitching slightly.

Viora didn't wait.

Her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, popping them open with a confidence that matched her defiant posture.

The fabric parted, revealing the swell of her breasts in a red lace bra, her curvy frame glowing in the muted light.

She shrugged the blouse off, letting it fall to the dusty bench behind her, her green eyes locked on Lor, daring him to keep up.

Myra followed suit, her fingers quick as she unhooked her skirt, letting it slide down her legs to pool at her feet.

Her black lace bra hugged her full breasts, the matching panties accentuating her hips, her skin flushed with a mix of nerves and boldness.

Lor's pulse quickened, his trousers growing uncomfortably tight as he watched them shed their uniforms without a pause, their movements sure, driven by the same unspoken pact.

He unbuckled his belt, the metal clinking softly, and stepped out of his pants, leaving him in dark gray boxers that did little to hide the growing bulge.

Myra and Viora stepped closer, close enough that Lor could feel the warmth radiating from them, their eyes bright with a mix of curiosity and desire.

He reached out, his hands finding their shoulders, his touch light but firm.

"C'mere," he murmured, pulling them gently toward him.

Their lips met his in a rush of heat—Myra first, her mouth soft and eager, tasting faintly of mint from her morning tea.

Her kiss was hungry, her tongue brushing his with a boldness that surprised him, her hands sliding up his chest.

Viora joined a heartbeat later, her lips firmer, more demanding, tasting of something sharp and sweet, like wild berries.

Their kisses overlapped, a messy, fervent dance—Myra's tongue teasing his, Viora's grazing his lower lip, then both of them together, their mouths moving in a tangled rhythm that sent sparks down Lor's spine.

He kissed them back, one hand cupping Myra's neck, the other tangled in Viora's ponytail, the three of them locked in a fevered triangle, breaths mingling, lips slick and warm.

The kisses deepened, sloppy and urgent, Myra's soft moans mixing with Viora's low hums, their bodies pressing closer until Lor could feel the heat of their skin through their lace.

He pulled back slightly, his chest heaving, his hazel eyes dark with want.

"More," he growled, his hands sliding to the straps of their bras.

Myra nodded, her fingers already unhooking her black lace, letting it fall to reveal her full breasts, the pink nipples hardening in the cool air.

Viora followed, her red lace bra dropping to the floor, her breasts firm and round, her skin flushed with arousal.

Lor's breath hitched, his hands brushing their bare skin, feeling the warmth, the slight tremble of their bodies as they stood exposed.

They reached for his boxers in unison, Myra's fingers tentative, Viora's bold, pulling them down to free his cock, thick and fully erect, pulsing with need.

Lor stepped out of the fabric, standing bare before them, his arousal unapologetic.

Myra's brown eyes widened, her blush spreading to her chest, while Viora's gaze lingered, her lips parting, a mix of curiosity and heat in her expression.

Lor's voice was low, teasing, as he leaned closer, his cock inches from their faces. "You know what a blowjob is?" he asked, his tone carrying a playful challenge, his eyes flicking between them.

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