“Not here.”


    John stopped with his hand on the handle of the halfway open bedroom door. On his heels, he halfway turned to shoot Nightingale a curious glance. The Disciple Perk was wonkily worded, saying only that he had to have sex with a willing goddess and make her orgasm, without a clear definition what ‘sex’ meant. For all he knew, fingering her could have been enough. Whatever the exact demands, they were in agreement that none of her first times should have happened out in the open. The elevator had taken them to the second level. From there, the Gamer had considered his apartment to be the reasonable destination.


    “What’s wrong with here?” he asked.


    Nightingale’s left wing brushed over the backrest of the Harem Couch. It didn’t react to her touch as she was not one of his women. Yet, as the harpy had practically demanded he try to prove himself to her after Delicia was saved. “This is the roost of your harem, it is not my place to dwell and love here.” Soft whispers of soft feathers over leather accompanied her folding her wings back. Their tips crossed behind her head, adding a backdrop to her ever so slightly purple tinted hair. “A less personal environment would be appropriate.”


    Although John would have preferred to make this engagement more intimate than circumstances suggested, he agreed with her logic. ‘I’ll just have to put all the more effort into the act itself,’ he thought as he closed the door to the bedroom. “Well, I have a playroom,” he said and amusedly blew air out of his nose. “The proper title is Sex Dungeon, but I assure you it’s not that freaky – unless you want it to be.”


    “I have no particular inclinations in that regard.” Nightingale took a step to the side, to let John lead the way. “You have a simple home,” she commented on their way out of the apartment. “I expected an unordinary roost.”


    “I’m weird because I’m exceptional, not because I nail socks to the walls or something like that,” John joked. To walk beside her, he fell back a little bit and smiled. “Women of your calibre wouldn’t be interested in me if I was too much of an oddity.”


    Nightingale responded to his flirtatious tone in kind. “You’re stable and exciting, a mixture to be appreciated.” Lowering her gaze just a little bit, the harpy carried herself in a way that felt ladylike in a way that was so overtly effortless that years of training in etiquette and body language must have gotten into it. Humility lay in her expression, the downcast eyes and the little smile, and confidence in every stride that carried her straight posture forwards. Although her leotard hid little below the waist, her wings were angled at all times to keep glances at her round butt to just that: glances.


    His ogling was clearly noticed and neither of them commented on it. John did not feel like he owed an explanation as to why he would indulge his eyes in such a pleasant sight. After a minute of walking, they arrived at the Sex Dungeon’s door.


    John led the way inside. On the surface, the room was largely plain. The floor was made out of black mats of similar firmness as those gymnasts used. All of that space was empty. The walls were claimed by shelves, most of them tall and each of their segments sealed by windowed fronts. A couple were only at hip height, giving room for chains and other tools to hang directly from the walls. Every surface was filled with sex toys, ordered by kind and size. The selection contained the simplest of vibrators and naughtiest of restrains and yet still did not cover the entirety of what the Sex Dungeon had to offer. So much more was hidden in its inventories.


    “Do you want to freshen up?” John asked and pointed at the single other door in the room, leading to a sizable bathroom. Intercourse was an often messy affair, especially when reaching the excesses of a BDSM orgy, and even the women he had been with for over a year usually preferred presenting themselves in the cleanest state possible before they inevitably got stained by the events. “I’d prepare things in the meantime.”


    “Hmm,” she hummed one flawless note, before nodding. “One last preening, before I lose what I felt no man earned before.”


    John swallowed and let the weight of that expectation descend on him. No matter how many women he added to his harem, he never wanted to feel like his first time with them was just another entanglement. This was special. Doubly so when his first time with them was their first time period. A reputation and her initial impression of sex was on the line.


    After opening the door with her talons, Nightingale stepped inside. It was still odd to see someone do everything he would do with his hands with their feet. He knew that she could turn her wings into arms, a minor shapeshifting ability accompanying her divinity. A remainder from her life as a regular harpy, no doubt.@@@@


    John opened the settings of the Sex Dungeon and started editing the environment. Since she had no immediate interest in BDSM, he covered the shelves up with curtains of purple velvet. To counteract the emptiness of a room set for harem-sized orgies, he spawned in a number of plants. Some of them were typically romantic flowers, like roses, but the majority were flowers that bloomed at night, like phlox, jasmine, and wisteria, coming in bushes, patches and as vines, all of which were distributed across the room. At safe spots between the green, he placed clay pots filled with burning incense. Cherry and sandalwood mixed with the sweetness of the flowers into a rejuvenating fragrance.


    Although it was still the Sex Dungeon, by the end of John’s work, it resembled more of a secret grove. Even the curtains were barely visible. Placing a bed in that environment felt out of place, so he instead created a spot in the middle of the greenery where piles of firm and soft pillows of varying sizes created a resting place worthy of a sultana. Nightingale was from Austria and as pale as one could be, yet John still felt the image fit her.


    The final touch of it all was to dim the lights to the level of a starlit night. With that, he had made all of the preparations he could. ‘I’m really happy we didn’t just do it in the bed,’ the Gamer thought, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and back again. There was just a twinge of nervousness. The kind easily avoided by knowing someone better. For all he knew, Nightingale may have had an aversion to sweet smells, ruining the effect of this entire ensemble.


    After a total of fifteen minutes, the door of the bathroom opened again. A wave of hot, moist air, scented with lavender, hit John. There was no clear physical difference to before. Her hair may have been a little bit wilder, her skin the slightest bit flush, and her feathers a little bit fluffier, but Nightingale was still her jaw-dropping self. Her wings were wrapped around her, covering all below her collarbones.


    The light of the bathroom shut down automatically after she silently advanced two steps. Immediately, the velvet curtain extended to cover the door, eliminating the last visual hiccup in the grove. Nightingale’s black lips were parted, revealing pearly white teeth, just a tad sharper than those of a regular human. “Lovely,” she whispered, her voice clearly reflecting that she was impressed.


    John let the smile spread on his face. “Glad you appreciate my effort,” he said and moved to her side. Usually, he would have asked for her hand. Instead, he gently put an arm around her back and nudged her towards the hill of pillows. The invitation was taken and they walked to the edge of the pillows.


    Kicking the last of his clothes aside, John let Nightingale devour him with her eyes for a solid five seconds. His cock oozed a drop of precum from the excitement. Again, she licked her lips, and they remained softly parted afterwards. If he had learned one thing in his lifetime, then it was that women were perverts too.


    In a manner that let him show off his muscles in the process, John first got on one knee, then on both, and continued where he had left off. His renewed touch of her breasts coaxed the first true moan from her. Loud, it spread through the quiet room, a wonderful sound that she was wrongly embarrassed for. When she hid her mouth behind her wing, John chided her, “Let me see and hear you.”


    “A-as you wish,” she stuttered, the horniness unmistakable in her voice.


    At first, it was clear that she was controlling the ensuing gasps in an effort to make them sound more pleasing. Rather than continuously give her the verbal stick, he offered her the proverbial carrot. Each time he heard a particularly honest moan, he went a little bit further. His hands utilized the sensitive spots he was learning about. His tongue got involved, circling her areola. He groped her tits aggressively, then corrected when the roughness caused a hint of pain in her voice. Bit for bit, he trained her to let go of the control and sing out her pleasure freely.


    While he kissed and sucked on her left tit, one of his hands journeyed down her midriff. Gorgeous writhing was felt under his fingers, focusing into excited quivers when he reached her cunt. He rubbed her outer lips, appropriately wet, and she gasped sharply. While he travelled up and down her slit, he leaned up to her ear. “How do you usually masturbate?” he asked.


    “I... use a dildo... in the shape of your cock, my suitor.”


    John grinned. The first part was what he bargained for, but the extra detail was more than welcome. ‘God bless Scarlett,’ he thought. “Do you ride it?” An affirmative gasp. “And did you ever watch the videos of me and my girlfriend?” A nod, involuntarily strong from a jolt going through her body. “What did you think about them?”


    “The kinks were too rough for me, yet I deeply... deeply enjoyed how attractive you two are.”


    Letting out a pleased hum, John ended that line of questioning. It was just to indulge himself. There was something else he wanted to know. “Did you ever use your own fingers?”


    “Ah- No.”


    “There’s a lot to show you then,” he whispered. “There’s so much more that can be done by someone who is paying attention.”


    His fingers curved inside. The reaction was a tiny gasp, nothing world-shattering. That would soon change. John probed her tight hole for all of its little secrets. Many of the usual tricks worked, some didn’t, and a few unusual ones had her spine arch. She looked so lovably ecstatic that John had to bite the inside of his cheek not to claim those dark lips of hers.


    Instead, he concentrated on bringing her bliss of a level that would leave any man that tried after him pale in comparison. Not that he intended to let anyone else try. With each moan and each gasp of the harpy’s voice, he wanted her more. He heard her pitch rise higher and higher and then he suddenly stopped stimulating her sensitive areas. For a solid stretch of time, he fumbled arounder her outer lips or caressed less sensitive skin around her swollen labia. Then, when her breathing started to calm, he expertly aimed for her clit and had her scream out loud. Her hips shot off the pillows, all of her tensed in anticipation – then he raised his hand and left her wet and panting.


    “W-why?” she asked.


    “Because it might be over when I’m not careful,” he said, his voice a little deeper than usual. His dom was surfacing. “And I enjoy your bliss far too much, my beautiful songbird.” Neither the announcement nor the little name got any kind of direct reaction. Nightingale screamed, at the edge of ecstasy, when he penetrated her with two fingers. The tight folds gripped him, yet the drenched wetness allowed him to curve and wiggle inside her. “I won’t make you beg – unless you want to.”


    “Please let me cum!” she shouted almost immediately. It was the only plea and it was still powerful enough that John felt his dick tense. Had he been inside someone, he would have unloaded before her orgasm finally came about.


    A second time, her lower half bucked up against his palm. This time, he did not stop, and masturbated her to completion. Nightingale screamed, the sound barely echoing, swallowed by the foliage and the curtains. What John heard was barely enough to make a dent in his insatiable desire. Her pussy was overflowing around his moving fingers. He wanted to see a more intense reaction, to make her squirt, to have her eyes roll up and her body wracked by spasms.


    Some edging during the first time fingering her was not quite enough to achieve that. Writhing, claws curling around smaller pillows, she kept shouting, her eyes closed. The prolonged sound was eventually replaced with bursts of moans between quick exhales, accompanying intense shivers. John’s fingers had stopped by now and he let her ride out her orgasm in peace.


    There was one consolation to all of this. “It did not work,” he told Nightingale, when she was starting to get her breathing under control. “We’ll have to continue.”


    “Horrible,” she pushed out a single sarcastic remark.