100x Rebate Sharing System: Retired Incubus Wants to Marry & Have Kids

Chapter 806: Chapter 805- Taking both duo Together

The ancient language. The lost script. The notation system that predated modern magical theory by three thousand years. I’d absorbed it — from one of my aunts, the Catorian sister who had spent forty years studying ancient texts — and multiplied it through the breeding rebate. The knowledge was vast. Deep. The kind of thing that made scholars weep.

My finger moved. The lines appeared — glowing on the wood, the inscription carving itself into the surface. Circle. Geometric patterns. Interlocking triangles. The notation was complex — each line precise, each angle calculated, each symbol carrying meaning that would take a scholar years to decipher.

The ground shimmered. The magic circle — large, covering most of the room’s floor — materialized. The glow was soft. Warm. The light pulsed — rhythmic, steady, like a heartbeat.

I stood. Looked at my work. The circle was perfect.

I lifted my head. My eyes found the doorway.

Vespera stood there. Her hand on the doorframe. Her files forgotten — dropped on the hallway floor, the papers scattering. Her mouth was open. Her eyes — wide, disbelieving, the academic mind struggling to process what it was seeing — were fixed on the circle.

Her mother — still on the bed, drowsy, covered — was behind me. But Vespera didn’t see her. She saw only the circle.

”Is this,” she breathed. Her voice was barely audible. ”Is this the ancient reunic inscription?”

I smiled. ”What? Do you think your husband would not be able to do it?”

She shook her head. Not in denial — in disbelief. ”How could you do it?” Her voice cracked. ”This is — this is a lost language. The last practitioner died four hundred years ago. The academy has three fragments — three — and none of them are complete. And you — you just—”

She was shocked. From her face — the expression, the wide eyes, the parted lips — I could see it. She was literally, fundamentally shocked. The kind of shock that rewires a person’s understanding of reality.

I let her process. Let the impression settle. Let her trust in me — already high, already strong, built on the foundation of last night’s formula and this morning’s revelation — solidify into bedrock.

This was why I’d used reunic inscription. I could have simply used clap points — the quick, dirty method of transferring abilities through physical contact. I could have inserted my tail into her pussy and pumped the mana directly. Quick. Efficient. Effective.

But that wouldn’t have impressed her. Wouldn’t have deepened the dependency. Wouldn’t have made her look at me the way she was looking at me now — with the eyes of a woman who had just realized that the man she’d married was not just a lover, not just a scholar, but something approaching a god.

”So,” I said. ”Do we move next?”

She nodded. The trust — complete, absolute, unshakeable — was visible in every line of her body. She would follow me anywhere. Do anything I asked. The academic mind — the questioning, challenging, skeptical mind — had been silenced by the demonstration of knowledge so far beyond her own that she couldn’t even formulate a challenge.

”Remove your clothes,” I said.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Both women — Vespera in the doorway, the mother-in-law on the bed — froze.

”What?” Vespera’s voice was strangled. ”How — I — mother?”

The mother-in-law stirred. Sat up. The sheet — which I’d thrown over her — fell, revealing her bare shoulder, the bite marks on her neck, the cum drying on her thighs. She saw her daughter. Her daughter saw her.

”Mother!” Vespera’s voice cracked. ”What — why are you — what happened to—”

The mother-in-law — flustered, desperate, her face crimson — grabbed the sheet. Pulled it up. Covered herself. ”Nothing — I was — I was resting—”

But the marks were visible. The bite on the neck. The bruises on the wrists. The dried cum on the thighs. The scene was unmistakable. Vespera — brilliant, analytical, capable of solving complex magical formulas in seconds — looked at her mother’s body and understood.

”You,” she said. Her eyes went to me. Wide. Hurt. Confused. ”You and — mother—”

”Cover your eyes,” I said.

I lifted both hands. In each — a cloth. One white, one black. The blindfolds — prepared in advance, because I was always prepared — dangled from my fingers.

I offered one to each woman.

Vespera trembled. ”No — I — I cannot—”

The mother-in-law trembled. ”No — I—”

I looked at the mother. My expression shifted — cold, hard, the face of a man delivering an ultimatum. ”Your daughter would lose her dream. She would not be able to ever actually feel how it feels to be happy.”

The mother’s face crumbled. The words — aimed at her maternal instinct, at the core of her identity as a mother — hit home. She trembled. Her eyes filled.

I turned to Vespera. My expression softened — warm, encouraging, the face of a man offering a gift. ”Don’t you want to perform the necromancy at your level? It will increase your mana levels. To the level where you would be able to pull it off.”

Vespera’s eyes widened. The offer — the thing she’d been working toward for three years, the thing she’d cried about in my arms this morning — was being placed in front of her. Within reach.

”I see,” she whispered. ”But — mother — she—”

She looked at her mother. At the bite marks. At the cum. At the sheet clutched to her chest.

Then she looked at the cloth in my hand. The blindfold.

She grabbed it.

The mother — seeing her daughter accept — trembled. ”No — I—”

”Do it for your daughter,” I said.

The mother blinked. Her eyes — wet, conflicted — went from me to Vespera. To her daughter. To the blindfold in her daughter’s hand.

”No,” the mother whispered. ”I would do for my daughter.”

She unbuttoned her dress. The garment — green, the same one she’d worn all day, now stained and wrinkled — fell. She stood in her underwear — bra, panties, both white, both stained. Her body — thick, marked, bitten, cum-covered — was visible.

I stepped forward. Took the second blindfold — the black one — and tied it around her eyes. The cloth covered her upper face. Her vision vanished.

Vespera — watching — swallowed. She put on her own blindfold. The white cloth covered her eyes. Her hands — trembling — adjusted it.

Both women stood. Blindfolded. Breathing rapidly. Their mouths — the only visible features below the cloth — were parted. Their chests heaved.

My hand went directly to the mother’s breast. Groped. The heavy, soft flesh filled my palm. The nipple — already stiff — pressed against my skin.

She cried out. ”Ah—”

”Mother?” Vespera’s head turned toward the sound. ”What happened?”

The mother — her face behind the blindfold, her mouth trembling — forced her voice steady. ”No — no — nothing. I’m just — red. Opening my dress. It got stuck in my hair.”

”I see,” Vespera said. Uncertain. Her blindfolded head turned. Searching for sound. For orientation.

I leaned close to the mother. My hand still on her breast. My mouth found her ear.

”Come on, mother,” I whispered. ”You need to strip now.”

She trembled. Her hands — guided by the blindfold’s darkness, by the command in my voice — went to her bra. Unhooked it. The cups fell. Her breasts — heavy, sagging, the nipples dark and stiff — spilled free. Then the panties. She pushed them down. Over her hips. Past her thighs. They caught at her ankles.

She bent — instinctively, reaching for the fallen garment. Her body — bent at the waist, her ass raised, her pussy visible between her thighs — was positioned. Available.

I plunged.

My cock — hard, ready, impatient — drove into her pussy. From behind. The passage — wet, warm, recovered from the day’s earlier sessions but still tender — yielded. The walls parted. The head pushed deep. Five inches. Six.

She screamed.

”AAANGH—!!”

Vespera’s head snapped toward the sound. ”What happened? Mother?”

I pulled the mother’s hips back — keeping her impaled, her body bent, her face hidden behind the bed — and reached for Vespera. My hand found her arm. Pulled her into a hug. From the side. Her body — clothed still, her thick curves pressed against my ribs — leaned into me.

”It’s fine,” I said. My voice was calm. Steady. The voice of a man in complete control. ”Your mother has been a bit busy.”

I kissed Vespera.

My lips found hers. The kiss was deep — my tongue pushing into her mouth, claiming her, tasting the tea she’d been drinking. She resisted — her hands pushing against my chest, her body tensing.

”Wait — don’t — mother will—” Her voice was muffled against my mouth.

I kept kissing.

”Mmmhh~~ slurp.... Unnmhhgh~~”