Journey’s End: Thirteen Beauties, One Man, One Destiny [Part-4]
And then—tender footsteps.
Lira crept into his camp silently.
She did not knock. She did not cry out. She simply stepped inside as if she had every right to be there—because she did.
Leon’s eyes rose as her shadow entered the light of his personal lantern. Silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight over her shoulders, eyes reflecting the light with a queer combination of fire and vulnerability.
She didn’t speak at first. She just went to him. Climbed onto his lap with no hesitation. Sat, legs folded beside him, hands lightly on his chest.
And looked at his eyes.
"I love you, Leon," she declared, eyes not blinking. Brazen. Unwavering. "I know my mom loves you, and you love her too. But I want you... too."
Her voice wasn’t trembling. But her fingers were—barely.
No jealousy tinged her words. No bitterness. Just truth. Raw, unvarnished, and too much to keep inside any longer.
Leon looked at her. The vulnerability of her eyes was piercing, but so was the passion—the way her body leaned into his, the way her thighs shook ever so slightly against his.
He could feel the beat of her heart through her skin. Fast, fluttering.
This wasn’t a fleeting crush. This was a confession.
One she’d buried for too long. And now... it was out.
Her words didn’t shake. But her heart clearly had.
And instead of pushing her away, he smiled. He’d always known.
"I already knew," he said gently. "You’ve loved me for a while now."
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes didn’t waver. She didn’t blink when he got close and kissed her. It wasn’t for guilt or duty. It was real. Intense. Warm.
He gave her what she needed that night—not everything, but enough.
He slowly undressed her, as one would unwrap something holy. His hands were slow, not quick—tasting every inch of her. Lira’s breath caught as his fingers mapped out her delicate contours, her silvery hair spilling over her shoulders like silk.
Her breasts were full and warm and sensitive under his fingers. Her nipples stood rigid, throbbing, pleading. He bent forward, kissing the hollow of her throat, then lower—along her chest, her stomach, to her thighs.
Before his mouth touched the sweet fire between her legs, she was already shuddering.
He opened her folds with his tongue and fingers, licking deep and slow. She was soaked—wet, swollen, and so damn sensitive. Each circling of his tongue around her clit made her gasp out his name, each moan louder and more desperate.
"Leon... ahh, Leon..." she whimpered, her hands on his hair, her thighs tighter around his head.
She was no longer the proud princess. She was his.
And when she finally pleaded with him to please her in return, she spoke softly but with desperation.
"Leon... let me taste you... please..."
He smiled, rolling their positions over with a smooth motion, laying on his back while she worked over him from above.
Lira got into the 69 position, her nose an inch or so from his cock. Her breath caught as she leaned forward, putting her lips tenderly around the tip of his dick.
She sucked slowly at first, as if learning him—tasting, discovering, allowing her tongue to spin and dart with loving intent.
Leon groaned beneath her, not from the pleasure alone, but from seeing her sitting above him—silver hair fallen across his thighs, her arse arched like a fantasy.
He did not remain stationary either. He buried his face between her legs once more, tongue lapping and caressing her clit, causing her hips to shudder and grind against his mouth.
They enjoyed each other mutually—moaning into the skin of one another, panting heavy, wrapped in a circle of lust.
"Mmnh...!" Lira groaned around his cock, her voice muffled with pleasure.
And when it arrived—when their bodies could no longer contain it—he felt her legs tremble around his face as she whimpered softly, her juices spilling onto his tongue.
In seconds, his cock throbbed in her mouth, and she swallowed each lick of his cock milk with flushed cheeks and a gentle moan of contentment.
They broke apart, dizzy and gasping, their lips wet with each other’s pleasure.
And then they backed away from each other. Her body against his, both sweat and affection making them sticky.
Lira kissed him—dirty, sloppy, savoring herself on his lips—and then rode atop, his dick nestled between her ass cheeks. She bit her lip, teasing yet flushed, grinding against him with slow pressure.
But before she could proceed... Leon blocked her.
"Not yet," he whispered, his hand on her waist. "When we get to Silver City... I’ll take you for myself, fully. After speaking with your mother."
She looked down at him—eyes brimming with feeling, breath shaky.
"I promise," he told her, his lips moving gently against hers.
So they stayed that way. Twisted together. Bare. Warm.
He didn’t fuck her all the way that evening. Not yet. He didn’t claim her entirely, but both of them are more bonded than ever before.
"I’ll speak with Sona first," he said softly, caressing her face. "And when we get to Silver City... I’ll take you. Whole. As my own."
Lira snuggled up to him like a sleeping koala, naked and blissfully contented. For the first time in years, she felt secure.
She nodded in his arms, a smile on her lips. The following morning, the sky was a soft wash of gold and silver. The plains glimmered in the early light, the caravan stirring gradually to the beat of travel.
And out of Leon’s tent, two of them emerged side by side.
Lira was at his side.
Barefoot, hair disheveled, but radiant—glowing in that unmistakable way a woman glows when she’s been loved all night. Her cheeks held the softest flush, but she didn’t look away. Didn’t drop her eyes.
She strode proudly, fingers curled into Leon’s palm, silver hair shimmering in the sun.
One by one, gaze lifted.
Rias arched a brow, then smiled knowingly.
Aria smirked with a tease, drinking her tea as if she’d anticipated this all along.
Cynthia looked at Leon and gave the slightest, approving nod.
Even Syra and Kyra exchanged a look with identical grins, muttering something between them.
Mia went pink, but she smiled too— warmly, sweetly.
Tsubaki blinked, then looked aside with a blush that crawled down her neck she said nothing, but there was kindness in her eyes.
The maids—Fey, Mira, Mona, Rui, Lena—they all bowed their heads with gracious comprehension. No one was resentful. No one wondered.
Because Lira wasn’t just "the princess" anymore.
She was his. One of them. Their sisters
And for the first time, fully accepted among the group of women who already felt the burden and comfort of Leon’s love.
Not the artificial courtly smile of royalty, but something true. Soft. Lovely.
And from that moment on... she was different.
She didn’t need permission anymore.
Didn’t hesitate before sliding her fingers between Leon’s finger.
Didn’t wait to be told it was acceptable to kiss his cheek.
Didn’t hold back when she leaned into his shoulder and referred to him as Darling as if it had always been hers.
Because now... it was.
And everyone knew it.