DD 304 Ch 12 (Patreon)

"So, what do you think?" I asked, leaning back with what I wished I could call a full stomach, though the portions had been tiny.

"It was lovely," she said, in the kind of way that made it sound like she was trying not to offend me.

"How about we finish these drinks and then go snag some ice cream? Pretty sure I spotted one of the popular chains down there." I offered.

"Oh yes, please," she said in a rush. "Humanity might have some flaws, but ice cream is not one of them." I squinted at her, wondering where she'd had it before, then closed my eyes in sudden understanding.

"Felin?" I asked.

She paused and gave me a guilty smile. "Yes. To be honest, it was pretty fantastic. Even the Orkai don't make food that good." She nodded.

"Oh well, if we beat the Orkai in this particular instance, then color me impressed." I tried to hold back my sarcasm. Orkai took very little pleasure in their food other than its nutritional balance. I hadn’t much cared for it.

"Orkai food is nutritious," she said, unsure if that was a good or bad thing. “But this was great.”

"Well, regardless, I hope it’s even better where we are going.”

"It will be," Misha said, with more certainty than I felt. Strange how the tables had turned.

"Well then, Misha… I guess, in the last vestiges of our drinks, the best questions are the most awkward," I grinned, and she cocked an eyebrow.

"Careful now, don't oversell it," she teased.

"Well, what I wanted to ask is… why here, why my party and me?" I pressed.

She paused, seeming to genuinely consider the question rather than snap out a rehearsed answer, which I appreciated.

"I don't know. Once I realized I didn't fit in with my people, I wanted to find a place I did belong. It sounds a little cheesy," she said, suddenly self-conscious, cradling her drink.

"How does that even begin to sound cheesy?" I said, much to her surprise, as she looked up, meeting my gaze.

"You don't think it's weird? Like I'm betraying Whalewryn? Or like I have some weird, I don't know, human fetish?" she said, finding her drink far too interesting.

"I mean, I didn't even consider the human-fetish thing until you just said it." I teased.

Her face turned bright red. "I told you I don't have one."

"Sometimes denials are just admissions in disguise," I said, earning a deep scowl.

"It's not like that. You don't think it's like that, do you?" she asked a second time, needing that to be the right answer.

Though now that she brought it up I was curious. I mean… it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.

"Completely gone from my mind," I lied through my teeth, and she let out a relieved sigh. Though the idea of someone having a fetish for me was actually more flattering than I'd expected. I'd have to consider the implications of that at a later point.

"Well, good, as long as you don't think that," she repeated urgently. "Then yeah, it's just me trying to find a place to fit in, being an oddball amongst my people. Though the idea that you're an incubus without some of the normal demon baggage is admittedly interesting."

"I like to think I don't come with too much baggage. Besides the multiple relationships." I added the last.

"Oh yeah, not a big deal," Misha waved that aside, then paused. "Right, I didn't mean to make light of it. It’s just that I've already accepted that bit, and we don't need to dwell on it." It was admittedly awkward to discuss on a first date, but it kind of needed to be put out there from the beginning, even if it should have been obvious from her time with me and the rest of my party.

"You know what they say about making assumptions… they make an ass out of you, me, and quite possibly everyone involved." I offered.

"Well then, yeah, good, let's just get it out of the way," Misha said. "In fact, it's a little interesting" with a lifted brow "you know," not being specific at all.

"Please believe me, sometimes I really am that much of an idiot." I told her.

"Yeah, okay," Misha said, as if my being an idiot was explanation enough, which was frankly a tad insulting. "My differences from Whalewryn, that my libido completely outstrips the males of my race…it makes the fact that you have multiple partners and keep up with them interesting. It is a little exciting, having others. You know, in case we ever want to spice things up."

I lifted a brow. "I have no idea what you're referring to."

"I mean, Des hasn't said anything," she started to ramble, "but some of the things she's implied—" and I held up a hand.

"There's a human phrase. We don't kiss and tell. It's a little weird, but humans really don't like talking about sex." I said to save her from saying all the particulars, I understood well enough at this point.

"Oh, that makes the innuendos make a little more sense. But you do have to talk about it sometimes," she said plainly. "If no one wants to talk about it directly, I suppose the next best thing is to pretend you're not talking about it by using other words."

"Yes," I said, after a moment of hesitation. "You're probably right on that, on all accounts." 

Misha nodded with a small smile, a nod of acknowledgement that we had come to an understanding. "So, ice cream?" she broke the awkwardness.

"Yes, please," I put my napkin down quickly and rose to my feet.

Apparently I had moved a touch too fast. One of the servers practically jumped. "Sir? Madame? Is everything alright? Won't you stay for dessert?"

"Quite alright, thank you. I think we'll walk off the meal while seeing the city." I told him.

"Of course, and we'll use the card on the reservation," he said, and I smiled, appreciating someone who knew when to make things easy.

"That would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course. And please do return when the mood strikes you again." The waiter fussed a bit longer as the manager rushed up.

Apparently they were all watching us closely. "I hope everything is okay?" The manager asked in a hurry.

"Everything has been lovely," I promised the man, who was clearly finding our departure abrupt.

"If you say so," he said, "know it was our absolute pleasure to host you, and anytime the fancy strikes you for another meal, please come by. We will always make room for Ken Nagato." He said my name as if it held particular importance.

Misha took all the attention in stride. "It was lovely," she said. "Please thank you to the chef for us". She'd remembered some of the phrases I'd taught her beforehand even if it was a little butchered.

The man puffed himself up and followed us all the way to the elevator with a beaming smile.

As the doors closed, Misha turned to me. "Would it have been rude if I told him we were getting ice cream somewhere else? Because he thinks he can provide us better desserts? The food was good, don't get me wrong," Misha said, then hesitated.

"But it wasn't actually that delicious," I added with a nod as we rode the elevator down, and she hesitated before nodding in agreement.

"You're not wrong. I think places like that are so ‘nice’" I air-quoted, "because they're an experience alongside a meal. You're sort of paying for that view as much as the food."

Misha's eyes lit with understanding. "That makes sense.”

“It's probably a fairly expensive spot, and the food is apparently high-brow, but between you and me, something absolutely filled with butter and sugar just tastes ten times better.” I tried to explain, but she still looked confused.

Misha cocked her head. "Like junk food?"

"That's food that's not very nutritious, but sort of engineered to be almost addictive. So, yeah.” I guess it was the same thing from two different perspectives.

"Like drugs, in the form of food?" Misha asked.

I squinted at that particular phrasing, but she wasn't wrong. "Yes. But don't tell Crimson I agreed with you on that."

"Does Crimson like junk food?" she asked.

"No, she loves junk food. Thankfully, as adventurers we're not at much risk of putting on extra pounds for it, but it's still not good for us." I told her.

"Like potato chips?" She asked.

"Crimson's chips are the quintessential example of junk food," I confirmed. I couldn't imagine a world where Crimson gave up potato chips.

"She said as much," Misha said, as the doors slid open, and I could tell the words ‘potato chips’ hadn't gone unheard. One of the men managing the elevator gave us a strange look, as if we'd insulted them and started to say something to one of the others.

"Don't mind them," I said, as Misha watched them closely, a hint of a frown on her face, before I grabbed her arm and pulled her along, making her forget whatever they'd said.

"So, ice cream," I said, to get her focused back on the date, and it worked.

She practically dragged me forward. "So, was my reason for wanting to stick around good enough?" she asked, with a small amount of trepidation in her tone.

"It wasn't really a matter of being good enough," I said, bending down and giving her a peck on the cheek. "One reason is as valid as the next." Though that was admittedly better phrased than I expected to come out, apparently my women were coaching me well.

"Some of Des's suggestions were a little crude," Misha said, waffling a hand, and I squinted at her.

"Des's ideas probably wouldn't be much more than a quick fix." I had a pretty good idea what Des would have suggested.

Misha blushed and nodded. "But I bet they'd have been at least decently effective," she said, glancing at me out of the corner of her eye, "for tonight."

"Probably," I admitted. "But I don't think you want anything just for tonight, do you?"

"No," Misha shook her head hard enough that her fin-like ears flapped against the side of her head. "It's like food," she said. "It's far more preferable to have something healthy and long-lasting than something short and sweet. I'm not looking for a junk-food relationship." She blushed. "A kiss or two tonight wouldn't be bad, though."

"I think we can manage that," I grinned at her. "But after ice cream. We've talked about it too much. If we delay any longer, I'm afraid my stomach is going to throw a fit about the lack of ice cream."

Misha smiled and nodded, and I hooked her arm through mine, pulling her towards the nearest ice cream store with a nice little area to sit and watch the world go by.

***

"So, how was the date?" Des asked, squeezing a pillow to her chest as she watched Misha lay out a bunch of clothes.

"Good. Maybe great," Misha added the last bit with a smile to herself.

"Oh, I completely get it," Des grinned at her. "Though it seems Ken didn't do the best part." She crossed her arms in annoyance.

"Well, I kind of told him I didn't want it to be like a junk-food relationship," Misha fidgeted under Des's gaze, and Des leaned forward.

"Explain."

"Well, it was a wonderful evening. We talked about junk food, we had ice cream, which was good," Misha blushed. "The kiss after was even better."

Des grinned, rubbing her hands together. "Now we're talking. Okay, okay, at least he didn't completely botch the date."

"Oh no," Misha's eyes went wide. "Ken was wonderful. It was a great date. I just didn't feel like, if I took your advice, it would really last that long."

Des squinted at her. "I suppose you're not entirely wrong with such assumptions. But I'd really hoped Ken would blaze past that. Really Ken is decently possessive if he gets his hands on a woman," She sighed. "But then again, who am I kidding? Ken took forever with a number of us. Of course he was going to be slow on this one too."

"Which is fine. Slow, I mean," Misha said quickly, turning away from holding up one of Des’ dresses against herself and running a hand over it to press it flat to her body.

"It isn't, but I appreciate the consideration," Des said, and patted her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll get something out of Ken."

"I wasn't worried," Misha began, then realized the futility of it as Des continued nodding to herself. It felt strange to be discussing all this with one of Ken's harem, but it wasn't like she was going against his wishes. If anything, it should be a good thing that she was already communicating with them.

"Well, now that we've got the first date out of the way, we'll have to get you a second," Des said with confidence, a hand on Misha's shoulder and looking at her in the mirror. "Because Ken really needs to increase his available party members, and I think, although today was a little rough, that you are perfect." Her words spread a giant smile across Misha's face.

"If you think it will work, then I'm all for it." Misha nodded.

"Yeah, it's not like I'm doing anything Ken doesn't want. He just needs little nudges," Des explained, already thinking through ways to assist.

Misha continued nodding and held out another dress, though this one was so sort that she could see her underclothes.

“That one you don’t wear in public.” Des chuckled. “Here, let's try on a few of these and once we figure out what you like we can go shopping another day. We’ll find something that Ken just rips off of you.”

Misha tilted her head. “Because he doesn’t like them? This is a very strange courting ritual.”

Des threw her head back in laughter. “No, because he needs to rip off the clothes to get to you underneath them.”

Misha’s ears fluttered and blood rushed to her face. “Oh. Yes. We need to find clothes that Ken will rip off of me. Good thing he’s a strong adventurer so we don’t have to get anything too flimsy.” Just the idea sent a tingle from her head to her tail that quivered ever so slightly. She could feel herself begin to dampen her underclothes as her sex drive spun up.

Damned thing was such a nuisance, all the other Whalewryn didn’t have it muddling their thoughts. Hopefully once she found someone able to satisfy her often she wouldn’t feel so pent up and ready to explode at the slightest stimulation.

“Trouble?” Des seemed to sense something.

“Just… it’s been a while.” Misha sighed. “Got a little lost in my head.”

“Don’t worry.” Des beamed at her. “Ken will be worth it. That and we could use the reinforcements. One of these days we’re going to wear Ken out!”

“You mean, all of you together don’t?” Misha’s eyes were giant in the reflection as her ears and tail went completely limp.

“Sometimes if we can get three or four of us together we stand a chance.” Des said with a sad shake of her head. “But the stupid dungeon-head causes a little trouble with timing, you let him have even a moment of spare time and he’s back in training.”

“He is very dedicated.” Misha said. “This is a good thing, right?”

“Well…” Des waffled her head. “He wouldn’t be the superstar that he is, nor would he likely have gone full incubus or even garnered the attention from the Demons, Orkai and everyone if he wasn’t as outstanding as he was.” She nibbled on her lip. “His dedication is hot as fuck. So… this probably wouldn’t all work if he wasn’t such a dungeon-head.”

“But it takes a lot of time.” Misha thought she understood.

“Yes. Exactly.” Des began nodding very vigorously. “See, you understand. They also say you don’t appreciate things that come easily. So, it’s for the best, but I’m still going to want more of him. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. We aim to complain without really wanting a solution.” Misha stared back at her.

Des squinted at her. “By the way, have you read seventy four wives?” She pulled it up on her CID and hit a little program that they used for Universal Language.

“What’s this?” Misha pulled her wrist to see the floating screen.

“Oh, just a taste of what it might be like with Ken,” Des beamed.