SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

The circular platform reached the heirs’ floor with a low pulse of mana.

The runes beneath their feet faded, and Trafalgar guided Cynthia through the quiet corridor without letting go of her hand. At that hour, the floor reserved for the heirs of the Eight Great Families felt almost empty, all polished stone, muted lamps, and doors that knew better than to make noise.

His room recognized him before he touched the handle. A thin line of blue mana crossed the frame, the lock clicked open, and the door closed behind them with a sound that seemed louder than it should have.

Cynthia stood just inside, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag while she took in the room. The mana lamps adjusted to a softer glow, brushing the dark furniture, the desk, the books, and the large bed near the far wall with a warm light. It was quiet. Far too quiet, considering what she had asked for downstairs.

Trafalgar turned toward her.

”Are you sure about this?”

Cynthia’s face flushed at once, but she lifted her chin anyway, brave in that terribly obvious way of hers. ”That is why I asked to come to your room,” she said, her voice steadier than her hands. ”You really have no idea how long I have been holding myself back.”

Trafalgar felt something in his chest tighten.

Of all the ancient horrors, political disasters, and Primordial secrets he had dealt with tonight, that sentence was the one that nearly made him forget how to answer.

He stepped closer, close enough to see the small tremor in her fingers. ”Then I will take care of you,” he said, brushing his thumb along her jaw. ”No rush. Just us.”

Cynthia shivered, but she did not move away.

The first kiss was careful, almost testing the space between them. Cynthia answered late, inexperienced enough for him to notice, but not unwilling. Her hands found his waist and gripped his shirt as if she needed something solid to steady herself.

Trafalgar slowed for her.

The second kiss deepened more easily. His hand slid to her waist, drawing her closer without forcing the distance closed all at once. Cynthia’s breath caught against his mouth, her body warm against his, nervous and honest and softer than he expected.

He broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, ”Eyes on me,” before capturing her lips again. Cynthia obeyed, her golden gaze locked onto his as his fingers worked to take off her top. The fabric gave way, revealing her breasts. She gasped when his palms cupped her breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened under his touch.

”Fuck,” she whimpered, arching into him.

Trafalgar smirked. ”That’s the idea.” His voice was a dark purr as he guided her back toward the bed, fingers hooking into the waistband of her slacks. She didn’t resist when he peeled them down, taking her panties with them in one smooth motion. Cynthia kicked them aside, her breath coming in shallow gasps as he knelt before her, hands sliding up her thighs.

”Look at you,” he murmured, voice thick with approval.

She bit her lip as his tongue dragged up her inner thigh, slow and deliberate. ”Trafalgar—oh—”

He chuckled darkly against her skin before finally tasting her. Cynthia’s knees nearly buckled, but he held her up, his hands gripping her ass as his mouth worked her with slow, torturous precision. She tangled her fingers in his ponytail, hips jerking involuntarily as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her core.

”Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. ”Please, I need—”

Trafalgar pulled back just enough to grin up at her. ”Tell me.”

”I need you inside me,” she gasped, her face flushed with need.

He didn’t make her ask twice. In one fluid motion, he stood, shucking off his own clothes until he was gloriously naked before her. Cynthia’s eyes widened at the sight of him—thick, hard, and already glistening at the tip. She reached out hesitantly, wrapping her fingers around his shaft, stroking experimentally.

”Shit,” he hissed, his hips jerking forward.

She bit her lip. ”Did I do it wrong?”

He laughed breathlessly. ”No. You’re perfect.” He guided her hand away, positioning himself at her entrance instead. ”But I want to feel you when you come first.”

Cynthia whimpered as he sank into her, inch by inch, filling her completely. Trafalgar groaned, his forehead pressing against hers. ”You feel incredible,” he growled, his hips rolling in deep, measured thrusts.

She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure crashed over her in waves. ”Harder,” she begged, her voice desperate. ”Please, Trafalgar—fuck me harder—”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a growl, he flipped her onto her stomach, pinning her beneath him as he drove into her with relentless force. Cynthia cried out, her fingers clawing at the sheets as he pounded into her, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body.

”Fuck—yes—just like that—” she babbled, her voice raw with need.

Trafalgar’s grip on her hips tightened as he picked up speed, his balls slapping against her clit with every deep, punishing thrust. ”Take it,” he growled, his voice rough with lust.

Cynthia shattered around him, her back arching as her orgasm ripped through her. Trafalgar groaned, his rhythm faltering as he came with a guttural moan, his release flooding her in thick, hot spurts.

For a long moment, neither moved. Cynthia lay trembling beneath him, her body still twitching with aftershocks. Trafalgar collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms as they both gasped for breath.

For a long while, neither of them moved.

The room had gone quiet again, though not in the same way as before. The mana lamps still burned low against the walls, casting soft gold over the sheets, the scattered clothes, and Cynthia’s white hair spilling across Trafalgar’s arm. Her breathing had not fully steadied yet, and every few seconds a small tremor passed through her body, enough for Trafalgar to notice.

Of course he noticed.

His hand moved carefully along her back, slower now, the heat between them giving way to something more attentive. His expression lost the edge it had carried earlier, and when he spoke, his voice came lower, almost rough from how much he was holding back.

”Are you all right?” he asked. ”You told me to be rougher, so I did, but… even then, it was your first time.”

Cynthia turned her face toward him. Her cheeks were flushed, her golden eyes half-lidded and bright in a way that made his thoughts pause for a dangerous instant. She looked exhausted, embarrassed, and far too satisfied for someone who had been trembling beneath him moments ago.

”I liked it,” she said, her voice softer than usual, but still carrying that stubborn little courage of hers. ”A lot, Mayla and Aubrelle were right about it.”

Trafalgar’s hand stilled against her waist.

”Thank god,” he said, though the word came out with more relief than he intended.

Cynthia watched him for a few heartbeats, and the corner of her mouth curved faintly. The nervousness had not vanished from her completely, but something else had taken root beneath it now. Confidence, perhaps. Or the beginning of it.

Then she shifted closer, pressing herself against him with a boldness that did not quite match the blush spreading across her face.

”But…” she murmured.

Trafalgar looked down at her. ”But?”

Cynthia swallowed, clearly embarrassed by her own question and determined to ask it anyway.

”Are you done?”

For a moment, Trafalgar did not answer.

Then his brows lifted slightly.

”Oh?”

Cynthia’s blush deepened at once, but she did not look away.

And Trafalgar, despite everything he had survived that night, realized the academy might not be getting him back to proper sleep anytime soon.