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The Gamer Chapter 1399 – Fluffy Monday Awakens 3 – Cooking and Business
🕑 Added 2023-03-03 17:52:29 +0000 UTCJohn had not planned to end up being the one in charge during the visit, but in hindsight that was just inevitable considering his proclivities. Salamander definitely had not minded. He had left her with a gaping cunt and her curves all marked with his cum. After that, meeting up with Aclysia to do something he definitely could not take charge of was oddly relaxing.
“Hand me the red wine, Master.” Aclysia’s ordering tone belied the meaning of his title. A circumstance that he did not mind. John did as instructed, opening and then handing over the bottle. On instinct, Aclysia poured a big helping of it into the gravy that the large chunks of meat were swimming in.
It looked and smelled absolutely delicious. The pan filled out almost all of what was the surface of a regular stove. Having to cook for twenty people three times a day meant that Aclysia had required special solutions to many issues. An induction stove, magically improved, had been one such acquisition.
The cast iron pan would have been impossible to lift for most people, but for a superpowered maid, it worked just fine. The roasts, simmering in their own juices, onions, red wine, and beef stock, were each large enough to feed a small family. The harem was a large family and contained Eliana, Nathalia, and Claire to boot. Those three easily made up for the fact that Aclysia, Beatrice and Momo did not eat at all and that the elementals had a lesser capacity to fill themselves.
John eventually received an empty bottle. He proceeded to put it aside. Although glass could be eaten by the Cleaning Slimes, bottles were so easy to recycle that it would have been uneconomic to just toss them out all the time.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched Aclysia hum and stir their lunch. She kept basting the meat, making sure it would remain nice and moist. Occasionally she would add salt, pepper, or other seasonings. Spreading that evenly through a pan this large was no small task, but Aclysia had several years of experience in the matter.
“Lower the heat on the noodles, Master,” Aclysia ordered. Immediately, he obeyed. When getting cooking advice from the head maid, the only proper action was to obey.
‘I suppose this is why people keep thinking I couldn’t go to the bathroom without her,’ John thought.
After the many fantastical sights of the day, watching Aclysia turn down the heat on the stove was as enticing as it was mundane. The kitchen of their apartment was an upscaled monstrosity from the three-door fridge, over the aforementioned stove, all the way to their spice rack. A spice rack that was the size of an actual weapons rack.
In all of it, Aclysia moved with the certainty of a confident housewife. Nothing in this kitchen would have worked properly without her. Yes, the enchantments and the electrical circuits would have turned on and off, but that would have been it. Same was true for the other household appliances in these walls and throughout the entire palace.
Aclysia turned down the heat and then turned to John. “You’re the best,” he greeted her, when she came close to embrace him. When he had created her, he certainly hadn’t been able to anticipate that the combat support familiar would become the backbone of his homelife. “I absolutely do not deserve you.”
“If not you, then who?” The dragon maid deeply inhaled his scent. “Who deserves such care but the man that I fell for?”
“I’m not sure if anyone could ever deserve you,” John confessed. From her looks to her character, Aclysia was the perfect woman for every man that had a home to keep. Even though he provided more than anyone else could, at least as far as he was concerned, the Gamer still felt that he had to keep proving himself to live up to the privilege that was her presence. “I’ll just have to keep doing everything you like so you won’t even try to look for someone else.”
The weaponized maid let two fingers playfully wander from one of his shoulders to the other, using his collarbones as the road. “Why did I choose today’s scent?”
John bundled up some of her hair and inhaled. Soaked into every fibre of her being was a citrusy aroma. It reminded him of lemon cakes. “A relaxing, homely smell, but not the oranges you use when you want to make me feel completely at home. Because home means that I get to have my way. You want me to be relaxed without being turned on.”
“It is not easy to find such smells,” Aclysia whispered, her emerald eyes beholding him, her slit pupils dilated despite the light. “Our collection of different smells leaves you trained to so many of them.”
John could only agree. Of the menagerie of pleasant smells that existed, his harem covered most of them. Each haremette was steeped, to a degree, in the smell of pheromones. An unavoidable outcome of them spending each day loving and cuddling up in the same bed. In addition to that desire inflaming smell, they each had their own individual fragrances. Whether the musk was natural, magic-induced, or aftereffects of their shampoo, there certainly was a lot of diversity to it.
Even the current citrus was contested. Namely, Lydia typically had a note of the refreshing smell to her. That only added to John’s trained self-control when it came to the smell, strait-laced as the queen of metal was.
“Well, I suppose you’re training me as much as I am training you,” John whispered and let her hair fall in a cascade of silvery white.
“I do some minor nudging.” Aclysia scratched him under the chin. “Only to help you realize your optimal self, assuredly.”
“You’re one of the few people I’d allow to even try that.” John folded his hands behind her neck and pulled her in, until they were forehead to forehead. The position invoked a small torrent of memories. How often had he stared into those emerald eyes before? ‘Not enough,’ he decided.
They just stood there, enveloped by the scent of gravy and lemon cake. John was distantly aware that time passed due to the sound of the simmering broth.
“Does the optimal version of myself not know how to do his own laundry?” The question came spontaneously and he just let it slip out.
“Affirmative.” Aclysia rubbed the tip of her nose against his. “You cannot be too self-sufficient, Master. Otherwise, I will not have as many opportunities to care for you.” Her soul pulsed with love and obsession. “Would you forget how to eat for me?”
“I’m afraid that’s a bit too far.”
Aclysia blushed and turned her gaze away. “That was a weird thing to say, my apologies.”
“It was, but I’ll help you be your best self too,” John assured her with a kiss. “I love you, even if you are over the line sometimes in your care.”
The pink of her soul flooded out, like a star that could no longer be contained by the space it was given. Silent, he basked in it and held her. Yes, his head maid was a little crazy. Yes, he did have to reign her in sometime. Yes, if he wasn’t careful, she would probably pamper him into the loss of his motor functions.
To have both the willpower and the principle to refuse all she would do for him was not easy. Especially when she was just that adorable. She grabbed the front of his shirt and wrinkled the deep red fabric by clenching it in her fists. She tilted her head downwards, as it emphasized the minute difference in their height. “I have a confession, Master,” she whispered.
“What is it?”
“I love every centimetre you gain on me. Your form is always perfect, but this is a little better.” Aclysia lips spread in a displeased manner. “Do not let Beatrice know that I used ‘perfect’ in a manner that is technically incorrect.”
“I won’t if you kiss me again.”
John never told the passive maid a single word.
__________________________________________________________________________
John walked down one of the many, many, many corridors of the Thorne HQ. The business grey of the carpet swallowed the sounds of footsteps that would have otherwise bounced off the metal walls. Between the lack of decorations and the clinical feeling of the lights overhead, John almost felt like he was in a horror movie set piece. It was just a bit too fabricated to match that, just a tad too corporate. It invoked a sensation of worker droning more than horror.
Stopping in front of a wooden door, John knocked twice and entered after the electronic lock audibly slid aside. Inside, he found a comfy office, the kind that only a CEO would be afforded. Scarlett was behind a large table, leaning back in an office chair of the heavily cushioned, leather-clad variety. She was half turned away from the entrance, instead looking at her partner in crime on the couch. Nathalia lounged on the black furniture, sprawled out along its length.
The two redheads were wearing matching outfits. Black suits with red undershirts and red ties. There were differences in how they wore them, of course. Nathalia’s tie was loosened, the uppermost three buttons open, giving quite an ample view of her cleavage. Next to her on the table, Scarlett kept a pair of red gloves and her hat.
‘Wonder if that is also part of the uniform,’ John thought, looking at the whiskey glasses each of them held. “You know, I rarely ever see you with this.” He picked up the hat and placed it on his own scalp. Although his shirt, in its copper red, was a different shade than the crimson of the two businesswomen, he happened to share their look broadly.
“You also rarely see me with these,” Scarlett pulled her shades out of her breast pocket. The softly red-tinged glasses matched her theme perfectly, as did the red she had painted her nails. “Maybe you should take me out more.”
“You seem quite comfortable indoors.” John put the hat where it belonged. With both it and the shades on, the long-haired technomancer looked goofily anonymous. That changed in an instant when she pulled the glasses down enough for her to look over the frame. Red eyes stared at John with amused annoyance. “Did I ever compliment your sense of style, by the way?”
“I just slap red and black together, it’s hardly inventive.” Scarlett folded the shades back up but kept the hat on.
“Your personal attire is miles superior to your interior design.” Nathalia downed her whiskey, then pressed her empty glass against a segment of the wall. It gave, revealing a pipe that immediately filled her glass with a fresh serving of alcohol. “I do adore your functionality though.”
“Can we talk about you stripping every last decoration out of your floors?” John asked and closed the door behind himself. The electronic lock snapped back close.
“It’s just practical.” Scarlett swirled her drink, smiled, and took a glance at his crotch. Whatever lewd thought was going through her head, she dismissed it with a disgusted face. “The more non-mechanical parts there are, the more I have to take into account when rearranging the floors. The less fat there is to my organization, the better.”
“Some fat can be quite entertaining.” Nathalia propped herself up with her elbow, only to sink a hand into her left tit and show off its bounciness. All Scarlett did in response was roll her eyes. Chuckling, the dragoness downed the second glass of whiskey like it was uncarbonated water. Ten seconds later, it was full again. “You’ve come at the worst hour if you want to actually observe our work, my mate.”
“You catch us right between negotiations,” Scarlett supported.
“Did you know you have a shared hoarding situation when it comes to housing in the Boston area?”
“We call that a vertical monopoly, you fucking idiot.”
“Do you wish to be gagged again, little mouse?” Nathalia growled, red eyes heating up into the incandescent orange of her proper dragoness form.
“Just learn the jargon, it’s not that hard.”
John chuckled at the playfight they were having. It stopped quickly after he reached into his inventory and presented them with two boxes filled with their share of the meal he had cooked with Aclysia. “You missed lunch, so I thought I’d bring it over,” he told them.
Nathalia was a thousand times more interested in food than either alcohol or playfights. She swung her long legs off the couch and swiftly grabbed one of the chairs from a meeting table nearby. By the time she had put it down, Scarlett and John had opened the boxes. Eating utensils were quickly handed out and the businesswomen voraciously devoured their meals.
“Aclysia really is the best,” Scarlett stated between bites and Nathalia grunted something in agreement. The dragoness’ box was twice as large as that of the technomancer and there was not a single second she did not have some part of it stuffed in her cheeks.
“And you doubted you’d ever say that at the start.” John shook his head and sniffed theatrically. “You’ve grown so much.”
“Fuck off,” Scarlett grunted.
After they were through their food, the two had that post-eating lethargy. John imagined it was only worsened by the alcohol they had consumed prior. Expectedly, for Nathalia’s office, there was a door that led to a bedroom. It was flanked by two life-sized statues of her, one in her business attire and the other of her covered in scales.
‘Gnome truly is an artist,’ John thought as he nudged the two of them towards the bedroom.
“I don’t have to sleep,” Scarlett yawned, putting up token resistance against his pushing. “It’ll go away if I stay up an hour.”
“Maybe, but I’d like you to have a little nap,” John told her. He was still on a crusade to make sure Scarlett slept more. She could power herself with various substances as much as she wanted, he noticed it when she didn’t get enough rest.
Once her body hit the mattress, the resistance melted away into yawns and stretches. Nathalia gave her mate a few coquet blinks, before pulling at her jacket. “Help me out of this, will you?”
“Me too,” Scarlett demanded groggily. Whether it was the bed or the presence of her business partner, she sunk into that bratty tone.
John had no intention to indulge any lewd desires, but he was happy to get them out of their clothes. Button for button, he peeled them out of their suits and orderly hung the various layers into a nearby closet. Once naked, they sleepily waved him closer.
Remaining fully clothed, he laid down in the large bed with them. They cuddled up to him, two gorgeous and badass redheads who were so entirely relaxed in his presence their hardened exterior melted into an adorable display of heavy blinks and yawns. He brushed over the smooth skin of their shoulders.
“Tell a story,” Scarlett demanded. “If you make me waste my time sleeping, you can do that much.”
“I support that idea,” Nathalia joined in, trailing a finger over his sternum.
“Hmm, let’s see if I can come up with a short one.” John contemplated for a few moments, picking a setting and then just letting his instincts weave together the rest. He lowered his voice to a whisper, barely louder than their breathing. “There once was a woman in a village far from her home. She’d been brought there by circumstances against her will, circumstances she had since escaped. She was living well in the village, had found strangers that she could be around. One day, she found the opportunity to travel back to the place of her birth. There, she found friends that she partly recognized and missed rocks that she had once sun-bathed on. She travelled back to the village that she had been brought to. Back and forth, she travelled, neither arriving at a new home nor rediscovering the one she had lost. After years, she stopped in the middle and built her own house.”
John wasn’t sure if the story was done there, but he no longer had an audience to tell it to. Both redheads breathed rhythmically, repositioning themselves slightly in their sleep to be more comfortable on his chest. Scarlett’s silky smooth strands and Nathalia’s cascading, wild mane covered much of his torso. Smiling, he combed through their hair as he served as their pillow. His touch only served to lull them deeper into their relaxed slumber.
“…love you…” Nathalia whispered.
