I came fully awake to the wettest, slowest, most professional double blowjob in recorded history.
Two mouths. Four hands. Zero urgency.
The cat-eared girl (amber eyes, silver tail, collar that read "Nyla – Ninth Gift") worked the head like she was trying to win an Olympic medal for tongue circles.
The fox-eared one (crimson fur tips, golden eyes, collar "Sera – Eleventh Gift") had somehow taken the entire length down her throat without gagging once. I felt her heartbeat through the pulse in her neck.
I lay there for a solid minute just… processing.
The silk sheets were crimson and black, embroidered with my personal sigil: a golden dragon coiled around a broken crown. The bed was big enough for an orgy of twelve. The air smelled like sandalwood, sex, and distant campfires.
My first coherent thought was still the same: Past-me was a menace to society and I owe him a beer.
My second thought was: This ceiling has actual constellations painted on it. I spent three hours in SM Paint designing those stars. They're anatomically incorrect on purpose because I thought it looked cooler.
I sat up slowly. The girls adjusted without missing a beat, kneeling between my legs, tails swishing in perfect rhythm. Nyla hummed happily; Sera just looked up at me with those golden eyes that said I have been waiting my entire life for this moment.
I looked around properly this time.
The war tent was obscene. Thirty metres long, divided by silk screens into sections: bedroom, war room, bath, and what I distinctly remembered labelling "future harem overflow area."
A solid-gold war table dominated the centre, covered in the exact parchment maps I used to doodle while procrastinating university assignments.
Tiny dragon-shaped markers showed my legions. Red jade markers showed Great Xia positions.
Everything was here.
Everything I wrote at 3 a.m. while eating cold pizza and crying about my love life.
I stood. The girls followed on their knees, refusing to break contact. I walked to the full-length mirror on the far wall, dragging two eager beastkin like they were the world's most enthusiastic accessories.
The reflection hit me like a truck.
Six-foot-six.
Shoulders that looked photoshopped.
Obsidian hair falling to mid-back, perfectly straight because of course it was.
Golden eyes that actually glowed faintly, like someone turned the saturation up to eleven.
I flexed. My abs rippled in eight perfect bricks. Veins traced over forearms that could snap steel.
The thing between my legs, currently being lovingly serviced was apparently in proportion to the rest of the package. I stared for a long time.
"Bro," I said to the mirror, voice deep enough to make the glass vibrate, "you gave yourself plot armour and a BWC. Respect."
Nyla giggled around me. Sera just purred, the vibration doing things that should be illegal in several empires.
A horn sounded outside—three deep blasts that shook the ground.
The morning muster.
I gently (but firmly) extracted myself.
Both girls whined in perfect unison, lips swollen, eyes glazed.
"Later," I said. The single word came out like a royal decree. They shivered and bowed their foreheads to the carpet.
I walked to the armour stand. Black plate with gold filigree, designed to look terrifying and sexy at the same time. Because balance is important.
Getting dressed took exactly thirty seconds; the armour literally assembled itself around me with soft clicks of runic locks. Another detail I'd written because I was lazy.
I paused at the tent flap.
Two guards in full dragon-scale snapped to attention. Their eyes went wide when they saw me, actual awe, not the polite kind.
"Your Majesty," they barked, fists over hearts.
I nodded once and stepped outside.
The world hit me.
Four hundred thousand human beings knelt in perfect formation under a blood-red sunrise. Rows upon rows of black-and-gold banners snapped in the wind.
War drummers the size of houses stood ready. Siege towers taller than city walls waited like patient beasts.
The roar that greeted me was physical. It slammed into my chest, rattled my teeth, made the ground tremble.
"VALERIAN! VALERIAN! VALERIAN!"
I raised one hand.
Silence fell so complete I could hear the banners flapping.
I took my time looking over them. Cavalry with lances that crackled with lightning runes. Beastkin berserkers the size of trucks. Ten floating platforms where my personal marshals stood, each one a former enemy princess I'd written into the story years ago.
They were all here.
Every stupid, over-the-top detail.
I felt something weird in my chest. Not fear. Not even power.
Just… the surreal realisation that the loneliest version of me had somehow won the cosmic lottery.
I let the silence stretch another five seconds, then spoke. My voice carried to the back ranks without effort.
"Tomorrow we cross the Crimson Plains. Tomorrow Great Xia learns what happens when you stand between me and my conquest"
Another earth-shaking roar.
I turned to go back inside and nearly walked into a woman.
Marshal Aria, former crown princess of a kingdom I'd conquered. Six feet tall, crimson hair, armour that left exactly nothing to imagination. She saluted, eyes shining with something that definitely wasn't military discipline.
"The twins have been prepared as you requested, Your Majesty," she said, voice husky. "They're… resistant."
I raised an eyebrow. "The Jade Princesses?"
"Chained in the secondary tent. Still wearing their imperial robes. Still spitting venom." She smirked. "They're magnificent."
I felt the old familiar grin crawl across my face, the one I used to practise in the mirror when I thought no one was watching.
"Excellent," I said. "Give me twenty minutes to finish breakfast."
Aria's eyes flicked down to the two beastkin crawling out behind me, lips swollen and shiny. Her smirk widened.
"Take thirty, my king. You'll want to be… thorough."
She saluted again and strode off, hips swaying like she was personally responsible for morale.
I watched her go, then looked back at the kneeling army.
Four hundred thousand soldiers waiting for me to conquer a continent.
Two proud princesses waiting for me to conquer them first.
And somewhere, three hundred li away, a certain silver-haired immortal empress who still believed herself untouchable.
I exhaled slowly.
Past-me really didn't hold back, did he?
Good.
I rolled my shoulders, felt the armour settle like it was part of my skin, and walked back into the tent.
Time to start checking items off the diary.
One screaming, silver-haired virgin at a time.
To be continued...