Chapter 50:
– Blake –
Thank God I remembered Peter exists.
My hand had literally been on the dorm room door handle, Tsunade pressed against my back with her fingers already slipping under my shirt, Shizune's breath hot against my neck as she whispered something filthy that I'd never expected to hear from her.
And then I remembered I had a roommate and he would come home later tonight to find a scene that just might shock him to death…
So I'd pivoted. Pulled out my phone, found the most expensive hotel within walking distance of campus, and dropped Tony's credit card number without an ounce of guilt. Tony owed me at least that much for every time I'd had to watch him grope my mother at the breakfast table.
The suite was absurd. King-sized bed with sheets that probably cost more than everything I'd owned in the foster system combined. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline, the city glittering like a circuit board stretching to the horizon. A bathroom bigger than most apartments I'd lived in. A minibar stocked with things I couldn't legally drink for another few years, not that anyone was checking.
None of that mattered right now.
What mattered was the woman currently bouncing on my cock with the aggressive enthusiasm of someone who'd been waiting three goddamn months for this exact moment.
"Nngh, fuck, Blake," Tsunade gasped above me, her powerful thighs flexing as she slammed herself down onto my shaft, burying me to the hilt inside her tight, soaking wet pussy. "Three months. Three fucking months without this cock and I had to deal with village politics and council meetings and Jiraiya being a perverted idiot and, ahhn, God, you feel even bigger than I remember..."
Her body was a mess. A gorgeous, thoroughly fucked mess. Her golden pigtails had come undone hours ago, blonde hair cascading in sweaty tangles across her flushed shoulders and sticking to her skin. Dried cum streaked across her stomach from our second round, more of it glistening on the insides of her thick thighs and splattered across those massive tits that bounced hypnotically with every thrust. Her nipples were swollen and stiff, pink and glistening with saliva from Shizune's mouth.
She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I'd seen a lot of beautiful things.
But I couldn't exactly tell her that right now because my mouth was very, very busy.
"Mmmph, Blake, right there, please, ohhh..."
Shizune's voice came from directly above me, trembling and desperate.
She was straddling my face, her slender thighs bracketing my head, her fingers white-knuckled on the ornate headboard as she fought to keep herself upright. My tongue was buried as deep inside her as I could get it, lapping at the soft, slick folds of her pussy, tasting the sweet tang of her arousal mixed with the salt of sweat.
I groaned against her, the vibration making her entire body jerk, and the sound came out as a muffled rumble that was equal parts pleasure and pure, overwhelming lust. Tsunade's cunt was squeezing my cock like she was trying to milk me dry with every bounce, her inner walls rippling and clenching around my shaft, hot and tight and drenched.
Between that and Shizune grinding against my mouth with increasing desperation, my brain had essentially been reduced to its most primitive functions.
Lick. Thrust. Breathe. Repeat.
Higher thought was a luxury I could no longer afford.
My hands gripped Tsunade's hips, fingers digging into the firm curve of her waist as I thrust upward to meet her downstroke. The impact of our bodies meeting sent a wet slap echoing through the hotel room, joining the symphony of sounds that had been building for hours. The creak of the bed frame. The rhythmic thump of the headboard against the wall. The obscene squelch of Tsunade's soaked pussy taking my cock over and over.
Room service trays sat abandoned on the desk near the door, pushed aside hours ago. Water bottles lined the nightstand because Shizune, ever the medic, had insisted on proper hydration between rounds.
There had been several rounds.
"Haaah, haahhn, Blake, your tongue, I can't, I'm going to..." Shizune's words dissolved into a shuddering moan, her hips rolling against my face in tight, involuntary circles. I could feel her thighs trembling on either side of my head. I sealed my lips around her clit and sucked, hard, and her whole body convulsed.
"AHHH!" Her scream bounced off the hotel walls. I felt a rush of wetness against my chin as her pussy clenched and fluttered, her orgasm crashing through her in visible waves. She pitched forward, catching herself on the headboard, her chest heaving as she rode out the aftershocks against my mouth.
That's one.
Tsunade didn't even slow down. If anything, the sound of Shizune cumming seemed to spur her on. She planted both palms on my chest, her nails biting into my skin, and increased her pace. The force of her bouncing drove me even deeper inside her. I could feel every inch of her pussy gripping me, the wet heat of her insides almost unbearable in the best way possible.
"Don't you dare cum yet," Tsunade growled down at me, though from my current position beneath Shizune all I could see was the curve of her hips and the jiggle of her ass. Her voice had that commanding edge, the same tone she used when issuing orders as Hokage. "I've waited too long for this. You're going to last until I say you can finish, understand?"
I couldn't exactly respond with words. Instead, I thrust up into her hard enough to make her gasp and stumble in her rhythm, and took it as a small victory.
Shizune, still trembling from her orgasm, slowly eased herself off my face. She shifted to the side, her legs shaky as she repositioned herself on the mattress beside us. Her short dark hair was plastered to her forehead with sweat, her cheeks burning crimson, her small breasts rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her thighs glistened with a mix of her own arousal and my saliva.
For the first time in several minutes, I could actually see clearly.
And what I saw made my cock throb so hard inside Tsunade that she actually let out a surprised moan.
Shizune had leaned forward. Her mouth found Tsunade's right breast, lips parting to take that swollen, pink nipple between them. Her tongue swirled around the stiffened peak, slow and deliberate, before she began to suck. Her hand came up to cup Tsunade's left breast, fingers sinking into the soft, heavy flesh, kneading with a practiced familiarity that told me this was absolutely not the first time this had happened.
"Mmm, that's it, Shizune," Tsunade breathed, her golden eyes going half-lidded as pleasure from two sources washed through her simultaneously. Her rhythm on my cock faltered, her hips grinding in slower, deeper circles rather than the aggressive bouncing from before. "Just like that."
Wait. What?
I stared. My brain, already running on fumes, attempted to process what I was witnessing.
Shizune's mouth on Tsunade's breast. The wet sounds of her tongue and lips working that sensitive flesh. Tsunade's hand coming up to gently cradle the back of Shizune's head, fingers threading through dark hair, holding her closer. The soft, needy sound Shizune made against Tsunade's skin, like she was enjoying this as much as the woman she was pleasuring.
This was new.
Before I'd left for Earth three months ago, Tsunade and Shizune had been focused on me during our intimate encounters. They were comfortable sharing me, comfortable being naked around each other, but their physical affection had been directed my way. This, the tenderness in Shizune's touch, the way Tsunade was responding to her mouth with genuine pleasure rather than mere tolerance, this was a development.
My cock pulsed inside Tsunade's tight pussy, swelling even harder than I thought possible. She felt it immediately. Her eyes flicked down to meet mine through the curtain of her messy blonde hair, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across her flushed face.
"Nnfufu, you like that?" she purred, clenching her pussy deliberately around my shaft. The squeeze sent lightning racing up my spine. "You should see the look on your face right now."
"When..." My voice came out raw, wrecked. I cleared my throat and tried again. "When did this happen?"
Shizune pulled off Tsunade's breast with a soft, wet pop, a thin strand of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening nipple. Her cheeks were even redder than before, if that was possible, but the look in her dark eyes wasn't embarrassment. It was something warmer. More certain.
"About six weeks after you left," Shizune admitted, her voice still breathless from her own orgasm. She didn't stop touching Tsunade though, her fingers continuing to trace slow circles around the nipple her mouth had just abandoned. "We missed you. A lot. And one night we were drinking and talking about you and..." She trailed off, biting her lower lip.
Tsunade finished the thought with zero hesitation. "And I kissed her." She rolled her hips in a slow grind that dragged my cock against every sensitive spot inside her, making us both groan. "Honestly, I'm surprised it took that long. Six weeks of sleeping in the same compound, sharing meals, training together, both of us wound up tighter than a bowstring because the only man who'd ever properly fucked either of us was in another dimension." She leaned down slightly, her massive tits swaying forward, and Shizune immediately latched her mouth onto the other nipple with an eager "mmph" that made Tsunade's breath hitch. "Ahhh, see? She can't get enough of these now. Not that I blame her, I have fantastic tits."
I let out a strangled laugh that turned into a groan as Tsunade punctuated her statement with a particularly vicious clench of her inner walls. "You're amazing," I managed.
"I'm a Sannin, darling. Amazing is what we do." She winked, then let out a sharp "Ah!" as Shizune's teeth gently grazed her nipple. Her golden eyes blazed as she looked down at the dark-haired woman worshipping her chest. "Careful, Shizune. Or I'll make you pay for that later."
Shizune's response was to suck harder, hollowing her cheeks around Tsunade's breast, her tongue flicking rapidly against the trapped nipple. Her free hand slid down Tsunade's stomach, fingers trailing through the mess of dried cum from earlier, before settling on the junction where Tsunade and I were connected. Her fingertips found Tsunade's clit and began rubbing in tight, deliberate circles.
"Ohhh, you sneaky little..." Tsunade's composure shattered. Her back arched violently, pressing more of her breast into Shizune's mouth, and her pussy clamped down on my cock so hard I saw stars. "Fuck! Shizune!"
Okay, she definitely knows what she's doing.
The thought barely registered before Tsunade started moving again, harder than before. Whatever Shizune was doing to her clit combined with the stimulation of my cock inside her had flipped a switch. She wasn't teasing anymore. She wasn't controlling the pace. She was chasing it, her hips slamming down with enough force to drive me deep into the mattress with every thrust.
The bed screamed beneath us. The headboard cracked against the wall in a relentless beat. I was dimly aware that whoever was in the adjacent room was having a very bad night, and I didn't care even slightly.
I reached up, grabbing a fistful of Tsunade's blonde hair and pulling her down toward me. She came willingly, her body folding over mine, her enormous breasts pressing against my chest with Shizune squeezed between us. I claimed her mouth in a kiss that was more desperation than technique, all tongue and teeth and shared moans.
Shizune, now sandwiched between our bodies, shifted. I felt her lips leave Tsunade's breast and trail downward along my chest, kissing the sweat-slicked skin, her tongue tracing the ridges of muscle along my abs. Her hand never stopped working Tsunade's clit.
Then Tsunade broke the kiss, panting against my mouth. "I want you to taste what you're doing to me," she rasped, her honey-colored eyes burning with want. "Switch with me Shizune!"
It took my lust-addled brain a moment to understand what she just said.
Shizune understood immediately. She pulled back, and I caught the look they exchanged.
Tsunade lifted herself off my cock with a wet, obscene sound that made all three of us shudder. The cool air of the hotel room hit my shaft, slick and throbbing, and I actually groaned at the loss of her tight warmth.
She didn't give me time to mourn it. In one fluid motion, she repositioned, swinging one long leg over my head, her thick thighs settling on either side of my face. Her slightly hairy pussy hovered above my mouth, swollen and glistening, soaked with her arousal.
The sight and smell of her this close made my mouth water.
"Get to work," Tsunade commanded from above, and lowered herself onto my waiting tongue.
I groaned into her immediately, my tongue pushing past her slick folds. Tsunade's reaction was instant. A full-body shiver, a hissed "yesss," and her hand fisting in my hair to pull my face deeper against her.
Then I felt Shizune. Slim, gentle fingers wrapped around my cock, guiding me. The tip of my shaft pressed against wet, soft pussy lips, and then she was sinking down onto me with a drawn-out whimper that echoed through the room.
"Ahhhhn, B-Blake, oooh..." Shizune was tighter than Tsunade. Always had been. Her pussy gripped me as she took me inch by slow inch, her body adjusting to the stretch with trembling patience. When she finally bottomed out, fully seated with every inch of my cock buried inside her, she let out a shaky exhale that made her whole body quiver.
"Shizune," Tsunade's voice came from above me, surprisingly tender despite the fact she was currently riding my face. "You okay?"
"M-more than okay," Shizune breathed, and then started to move.
She rode me differently than Tsunade. Where Tsunade was power and aggression, each thrust a statement of dominance, Shizune was rhythm and sensation. Her hips rocked in a smooth, rolling wave, her inner walls dragging along my shaft with agonizing precision, hitting every nerve ending with each cycle. It was slower. More deliberate. And it was driving me absolutely insane.
I was lost between them. My tongue working frantically inside Tsunade's dripping pussy while Shizune's tight cunt milked my cock with that maddening rhythm. Every sense was overwhelmed. Taste, touch, sound, the wet noises of sex filling the room, the moans coming from both women above me. I could barely think. Could barely breathe.
It was fucking heaven.
Through the haze, I heard Shizune's breathing change. Quicken. Felt her pace increase, her hips snapping faster, taking me deeper with each stroke. Her nails raked down my chest, leaving burning trails that I barely felt through the tsunami of pleasure.
"Blake, Blake, Blake," she chanted, my name spilling from her lips like a prayer, each repetition higher and more desperate than the last.
Then a new sound. Wet and soft and intimate. I couldn't see from my position beneath Tsunade, but I could hear it. The quiet, unmistakable sound of kissing.
Tsunade and Shizune were kissing above me.
Not the frantic, heat-of-the-moment kind. Something deeper. I could hear the soft sighs between their lips, the gentle sounds of tongues meeting, the quiet murmurs of affection that were too low for me to make out the words. And then one of them, Tsunade I think, whispered something that made Shizune moan into the kiss, her pussy clenching tight around my cock.
One of their hands found the other's. I felt the shift in weight above me, the slight adjustment of bodies as fingers intertwined. They were holding hands. Kissing each other. While I was inside Shizune and my tongue was inside Tsunade.
I must have done something incredible in a past life. There's no other explanation…
Shizune broke the kiss with a cry, her rhythm fracturing into something urgent and desperate. "I'm close, I'm so close, oh God, Blake, please, please..."
"That's it," Tsunade urged, her voice rougher now, her own hips grinding harder against my mouth. "Cum for him, Shizune. Let him feel it. He's earned it."
I doubled my efforts. Sealed my lips around Tsunade's swollen clit and sucked while my tongue flicked rapidly against it. At the same time, I planted my feet against the mattress and thrust upward into Shizune with as much force as I could manage, driving my cock deep into her tightening pussy.
Shizune shattered.
"AHHH! BLAKE!"
Her scream was raw and unrestrained, ripping through the hotel room with enough volume that I was genuinely grateful for the thick walls. Her pussy clamped down on my cock with crushing force, rhythmic contractions rippling along my shaft as her orgasm tore through her. Her thighs shook violently. Her nails dug into my skin hard enough to draw thin lines of blood. Her entire body seized above me, back arching, mouth open in a silent continuation of her scream as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.
Tsunade followed seconds later. Whether it was my mouth or the sight and sound of Shizune falling apart that pushed her over, I didn't know. Probably both. Her thighs squeezed the sides of my head as her body tensed, a guttural "Fuck, yes!" erupting from her lips as her orgasm hit. I felt her pussy clench and pulse against my mouth, a flood of wetness coating my chin and jaw as she came.
I couldn't hold on.
The dual sensation, Shizune's pussy strangling my cock in rhythmic, milking contractions while Tsunade's thighs pressed against my ears and her taste flooded my mouth, it was too much. The pressure that had been building at the base of my spine detonated.
I came hard enough that my vision whited out. A raw groan tore from my throat, muffled against Tsunade's flesh, as my cock erupted inside Shizune. Thick, hot ropes of cum pumped into her in pulse after pulse, filling her already sensitive pussy until I felt the excess leaking out around my shaft. Shizune whimpered at the sensation, her body twitching with each new surge of warmth inside her.
For a long, suspended moment, none of us moved. Just the three of us, locked together, shaking and panting and riding out the last electric aftershocks of a climax that had been three months in the making.
Then Tsunade's thighs loosened their grip on my head. Shizune slowly, carefully lifted herself off my softening cock with a wet sound that made us both shudder. And the three of us collapsed into a heap on the thoroughly destroyed hotel sheets.
Nobody spoke for a while.
The only sounds were our breathing, gradually slowing from desperate gulps to something approaching normal, and the faint hum of the city through the windows. Manhattan glittered beyond the glass, millions of lights scattered across the darkness like earthbound stars. Somewhere out there, people were going about their normal, mundane lives. Working late shifts. Hailing cabs. Arguing about nothing.
Meanwhile, in this very expensive hotel room, a half-fallen angel was lying in a puddle of sweat and bodily fluids between two of the most amazing women from another dimension, trying to remember how his lungs worked.
This is my life now. This is actually my life.
Tsunade sprawled across my chest, one leg hooked lazily over mine, her face pressed into the curve of my neck. Her breath came in warm, slow puffs against my skin. Her wrecked blonde hair fanned across my shoulder and the pillow behind me. One of her arms was draped across my torso, her fingers resting possessively on my opposite hip.
Shizune curled into my other side, her head on my shoulder, her body fitting against mine like she'd been designed to occupy that exact space. Her fingers traced idle, absent patterns on my stomach, swirling through the mess that neither of us had the energy to clean up yet. Her legs tangled with mine beneath the sheets that had been kicked to the foot of the bed hours ago.
I tightened my arms around both of them, pulling them closer. Tsunade made a contented sound against my neck. Shizune snuggled deeper into my side with a soft sigh.
"Your stamina's gotten better," Tsunade murmured, her voice thick with satisfied exhaustion. "Whatever training you've been doing in this world is paying off."
"I think it's the fallen angel biology," I said, my voice hoarse from hours of... exertion. "Or maybe it's just motivation. Hard to get tired when two beautiful women won't let you stop."
"Flattery." Tsunade's lips curved against my neck. "Smart boy."
Shizune's fingers paused their tracing. She tilted her face up to look at me, and even in the dim light filtering through the windows, I could see the softness in her dark eyes. "I really missed you, Blake," she said quietly. Simply. Like the words carried more weight than any elaborate declaration could. "We both did. Every single day."
I turned my head to press a kiss against her forehead. "I missed you too. Both of you. More than I'm probably capable of putting into words." I paused, then added with a slight grin, "Though I clearly wasn't the only source of comfort around here."
Shizune's face immediately flamed up. She buried it against my shoulder. "I can't believe you saw all of that," she mumbled into my skin.
"Saw it? I had a front row seat. Literally."
Tsunade snorted against my neck. "Don't tease her. She's sensitive about it."
"I am not!" Shizune lifted her head, cheeks still burning, eyes defiant in a way I found achingly adorable.
Tsunade chuckled. She reached across me and found Shizune's hand, lacing their fingers together on my stomach. Shizune's hand tightened around hers without hesitation. It was natural. Easy. Like they'd been doing it for weeks.
Because they had been.
"For what it's worth," I said, looking between them, "I think it's incredible. You two together. I'm glad you found each other while I was gone."
Tsunade lifted her head from my neck, honey-colored eyes meeting mine with an expression that was equal parts warmth and amusement. "You're really okay with it? No jealousy? No wounded masculine pride?"
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Tsunade, I don't think I'm in any position to get territorial. Not with the fact that I know I won't be stopping at only three girlfriends…" I trailed off.
"Fair point."
"Also," I added, "it was the hottest thing I've ever witnessed in my entire life. Can you two do it again?"
Shizune made a strangled noise against my shoulder.
Tsunade smirked at me. "Also a fair point."
Tsunade shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at me. Just a woman looking at the man she loved with open, unguarded affection.
She leaned down and kissed me. Slow this time. Tender. Her lips warm and unhurried, tasting faintly of sake from the minibar she'd raided during our brief intermission after round two. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against mine. "I'm not doing another three months without you. I refuse."
"You won't have to," I promised, and I meant it with every fiber of my being. "I can open a portal to Konoha anytime I want. We never have to be apart that long again."
Shizune raised her head, her eyes bright with something that looked dangerously close to tears. Happy ones, but still. "Really? You promise?"
"I promise."
She surged up and kissed me, and there was nothing gentle about it. All the relief and longing and love she'd been holding back poured through that kiss, her tongue pushing past my lips, her hands grabbing my face to hold me still. When she broke away, she was breathing hard, her lips swollen and pink.
"Good," she said firmly. Then she settled back down against my shoulder.
Tsunade watched the exchange with a lazy, satisfied smile. Then she leaned across my chest and pressed her lips against Shizune's.
Shizune made a quiet, happy sound and kissed her back, one hand coming up to rest on Tsunade's cheek.
They parted with a gentle sound.
Tsunade yawned enormously, her jaw cracking, and dropped back down against my chest like a sack of very attractive cement. "I'm sleeping now," she announced in her non-negotiable Hokage voice.
Shizune giggled softly. "Me too, that was a lot of...exercise."
…The next morning.
I was having the best dream of my life when someone cleared their throat.
My eyes cracked open.
The first thing I registered was warmth. Soft, wonderful, all-encompassing warmth pressing against both sides of my body. Tsunade was on my left, her face buried against my chest, one arm draped heavily across my torso with the possessive weight of a woman who had staked her claim and was not relinquishing it. Her massive bare breasts were squished against my ribs, warm and impossibly soft, rising and falling with each slow breath. Her blonde hair was a glorious disaster, tangled waves fanning across my shoulder and the pillow beneath us like spilled gold.
Shizune occupied my right side with equal dedication. Her slender body was tucked perfectly into the curve of my arm, her cheek pressed to my shoulder, her breath a gentle rhythm against my skin. One of her legs was hooked over mine, her slim thigh resting across my lap. Her dark hair tickled my jaw.
Both naked. Both beautiful. Both apparently still sleeping.
The hotel room was a warzone. Sheets twisted and kicked to the foot of the bed. Pillows scattered across the floor. Clothes trailing from the door to the mattress like breadcrumbs marking the path of our destruction. The air still carried the heavy, unmistakable scent of sex and sweat and hours of enthusiastic physical activity. Empty water bottles lined the nightstand. Room service trays sat abandoned on the desk, picked clean.
Then my brain caught up with my senses, and I looked toward the foot of the bed.
Oh.
Oh no.
My mother, Shuri Himejima, stood at the foot of the king-sized bed with her arms crossed beneath her chest and that signature smirk curling the corners of her lips. Her raven-black hair was immaculate, violet eyes practically glowing with amusement. She was dressed in a fitted black top and designer jeans that Pepper or Tony had probably picked out for her, looking every inch the devastatingly beautiful woman who also happened to be an elite kunoichi capable of killing everyone in this hotel before room service arrived. She'd clearly been awake for hours.
Standing beside her was Pepper Potts.
My stomach did a complicated flip.
Pepper looked... incredible, because Pepper always looked incredible.
Pepper was looking at the bed. At me. At the two naked women pressed against me. At the absolute carnage of sheets and scattered clothing and the general atmosphere of a room where three people had fucked for the better part of an entire night. I watched her gaze travel from Tsunade's bare back and the impressive curve of her ass barely covered by a twisted sheet, to Shizune's delicate form curled against my side, to the scratches Shizune had left across my chest, to the bite marks Tsunade had left on my shoulder.
The expression on her face was complicated. But not shocked or upset. She obviously already knew about the other women in her boyfriend's life and had never protested knowing I was a Fallen Angel.
Before I could figure out what to say, what words could possibly be appropriate for a man caught naked in bed with two women by his mother and his other girlfriend, Tsunade stirred.
One moment she was pressed against my chest in deep sleep, and the next her honey-colored eyes were open, sharp, and fully aware. The instincts of a Sannin, of a woman who had survived decades of shinobi warfare. Asleep to combat-ready in the space of a heartbeat.
Her gaze found Shuri first, then Pepper. I felt her body tense against mine for a fraction of a second as she assessed, then relax completely as the assessment came back clean.
Then she sat up.
The sheets slid off her body. Faint marks decorated her skin in various places—a love bite on the curve of her left breast, light scratches across her collarbone, the ghost of my handprints on her hips. Her blonde hair hung in wild, gorgeous disarray around her shoulders, and dried sweat gave her skin a faint sheen in the morning light.
She made absolutely zero effort to cover herself.
Because of course she didn't. This was Tsunade Senju. The woman had once walked topless through the Senju compound to get a glass of water while Naruto was visiting, and her only response to Shizune's horrified scolding had been "the brat was asleep" followed by "also, I look fantastic."
She wasn't wrong then, and she wasn't wrong now.
"Jonin Shuri Himejima," Tsunade said, and despite the circumstances, her voice carried genuine warmth and respect. A greeting between equals. Between two women who had lived under the same roof, trained in the same compound, fought alongside each other, and shared a mutual understanding that came from being formidable in a world that constantly underestimated women. "Glad to see you're doing well. This world seems to be treating you nicely."
Shuri's smirk softened into a real smile. "Lady Tsunade. You look... rested."
"I am very rested," Tsunade agreed with a satisfaction that left nothing to the imagination.
Then the legendary Fifth Hokage turned her attention to the other woman in the room. Her gaze swept over Pepper with the practiced assessment of someone accustomed to reading people quickly, taking in the designer clothes, the quiet confidence, the carefully controlled expression. Whatever Tsunade saw apparently passed her internal evaluation, because her expression warmed.
"And you must be Pepper Potts," Tsunade said, her tone shifting to something more measured but no less genuine. She tilted her head slightly, golden eyes meeting blue ones with directness that Pepper seemed to appreciate. "Blake told us a lot about you. How you took care of him." A pause. Then, simply, "Thank you. For being there for him during these past three months when we couldn't be. That means more to me than you probably realize."
No possessiveness. No territorial undertone. No subtle power play hidden beneath polite words. Just one woman who loved me expressing sincere gratitude to another woman who loved me for doing the one thing she couldn't do from another dimension.
It was, without question, the most surreal moment of my life. And my life included being isekai'd to a ninja world, fighting tailed beasts, and having Tony Stark as a stepdad.
A soft sigh came from my right side, and I felt Shizune shift.
Unlike Tsunade, my other kunoichi girlfriend did not sit up. She did not greet our visitors with composure and grace. She did not display any of the shinobi poise that made her one of the most capable medical ninjas in the Elemental Nations.
Instead, Shizune made a quiet sound of mortified realization, and slid deeper under the covers.
The blanket-shaped lump that was Shizune Kato migrated steadily downward until only the very top of her dark hair was visible above the sheet line, like a submarine attempting an emergency dive. Another muffled sigh of pure resignation drifted up from the fabric.
And there she goes.
Shuri let out a melodic giggle, her violet eyes dancing as she watched the Shizune-shaped bump settle into stillness. "Ara ara, it seems Shizune-chan is feeling a bit shy this morning."
Tsunade glanced down at the lump beside me and patted it affectionately, like one might comfort a distressed animal. "She'll be fine. She just needs a minute."
"I need several minutes," Shizune's voice came through the sheets, muffled but perfectly clear. "Possibly several hours. Please pretend I'm not here."
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Even after everything we'd done last night, after the boldness she'd shown, the things she'd whispered, this was still quintessential Shizune. Brave and uninhibited in private. Absolutely mortified by the prospect of anyone else knowing about it.
I love her so much.
Pepper was watching the exchange with an expression I couldn't quite read. Her eyes moved from Tsunade's casual nudity to the Shizune lump to me, still lying in the middle of this disaster of a bed looking like a man caught between several different emotional obligations.
Then she spoke.
"It's nice to meet you too, Tsunade." The words were perfectly delivered. Then Pepper turned to me. And everything else fell away. "Hey, you," she said softly. Her eyes found mine, and in them I saw everything she wasn't saying out loud. I missed you. I'm here now. This is weird and complicated and I'm still figuring out how I feel about all of it, but I missed you and I'm here.
"Hey yourself," I managed, my voice rough from sleep and last night's... activities.
"We moved to New York," Pepper said, and the warmth in her voice grew. "The new headquarters in Manhattan is operational, the penthouse is furnished, and as of yesterday, we're officially East Coast residents." She paused, tucking a stray strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. A nervous habit I'd noticed she had, one of the only tells that ever cracked her composure. "Which means I'm not in Malibu anymore. I'm here. Close."
"That means we'll all be closer together now!" my mother announced, and the joy in her voice was completely unrestrained. And then, because she was Shuri Himejima, because personal boundaries were a concept she acknowledged existed for other people, she launched herself onto the bed.
The mattress bounced violently. The springs screamed. Water bottles toppled off the nightstand. Shizune let out a strangled yelp from beneath the covers. And before I could react, before I could even brace myself, my mother's arms wrapped around me and Tsunade simultaneously, pulling us both into a crushing embrace.
She was fully clothed. We were very much not.
"Mom!" I sputtered, suddenly very aware that my naked chest was pressed against my mother's shoulder and that Tsunade's equally naked everything was being smushed against my mother's other side. "We're not wearing, I mean, there are no clothes, this is..."
"Ara ara, Blake, I've seen it all before," Shuri dismissed cheerfully, squeezing tighter. "And Tsunade and I shared a bathhouse in Konoha plenty of times. There's nothing here that's new to me."
The logic tracks and I still hate it.
I glanced sideways at Tsunade.
"Heh...You haven't changed at all, Shuri," she said, shaking her head but making no move to escape the embrace. If anything, she settled into it, one arm coming up to return the hug with easy affection.
"Why would I change? I'm perfect," Shuri replied, completely sincere.
Tsunade snorted. "Modest as ever."
"Modesty is for people who don't look this good."
From beneath the sheets, Shizune's muffled voice floated up. "Can someone please tell me when it's safe to exist again?"
Shuri laughed brightly, the sound filling the hotel room like music. Then she pulled back from the hug, and I watched her expression shift. The playful warmth was still there in her violet eyes, the fondness of a mother who was genuinely happy to see her son alive, healthy, and surrounded by people who loved him. But something else crept in alongside it.
The Mom Look.
The look that said fun time is over and reality is about to assert itself with extreme prejudice.
"Now then," Shuri said, fixing me with a stare that could have pinned a tailed beast to the wall. "Blake, my beloved, handsome, incredibly reckless son."
"...Yes?"
"You are a scholarship student at the Stark Institute of Technology."
"I... am aware of that, yes."
"Tony Stark, your stepfather, who I like very much despite his many faults, built that school. He pulled strings, invested billions, and created one of the most advanced educational institutions on this planet. Do you understand what that means?"
I was getting a very bad feeling about where this was going. "It means I should be grateful and take my education seriously?"
"It means," Shuri said, her voice taking on the particular edge that had once terrified enemy shinobi across multiple nations, "that you actually have to attend your classes, Blake." She glanced at her phone. Then she looked back at me. "Your first class starts in twenty minutes."
Twenty minutes!? My eyes went wide. My whole body seized with a jolt of pure panic that no amount of combat training had prepared me for. Tailed beasts? Cadre-class fallen angels? Rogue exorcists? All manageable. Being late to my first college class after spending the entire night having sex instead of setting an alarm? Catastrophic.
"Shit!" I threw the covers off, which earned a startled squeak from Shizune as her protective blanket barrier was ripped away, exposing her to the morning air and the eyes of everyone in the room. She immediately curled into a tight ball and slapped both hands over her face.
I was already on my feet, completely naked, scrambling toward the bathroom. Somewhere behind me, I heard a low whistle that was definitely Tsunade, and a soft "oh my" that was definitely Pepper getting a full, unobstructed view of everything God and fallen angel genetics had given me.
I didn't have time to be embarrassed. I had twenty minutes.
"I forgot," I muttered frantically as I reached the bathroom doorway, one hand on the frame. "I completely forgot. I set an alarm on my phone and I put the phone face-down and..."
"And you were too busy having sex to remember you're a student?" Shuri finished for me, her voice bright with the specific joy mothers derived from watching their children face the consequences of their own decisions.
"I'm not going to confirm or deny that!"
"The room confirms it for you, sweetheart. It smells like a brothel in here."
"MOM!"
Her laughter chased me into the bathroom as I slammed the door shut and lunged for the shower. The water was barely warm before I was under it, scrubbing frantically at my skin with whatever expensive hotel body wash was available. I needed to get the smell of sex off of me before sitting in a lecture hall full of normal humans with normal noses. Some of my classmates might not have supernatural senses, but even a baseline human would pick up on the scent of a man who'd spent four plus hours engaged in vigorous physical activity with two partners if he didn't wash thoroughly.
Soap. Shampoo. More soap. I scrubbed at the scratches Shizune had left on my chest, the love bites Tsunade had left on my shoulders, silently thanking my accelerated healing for already fading most of the visible evidence.
Through the bathroom door, I could hear voices. Muffled but distinguishable.
My mother's voice: "Don't worry about Blake, he'll make it on time. Now, Pepper and I will keep you and Shizune-chan company for the day while he's at his classes. Or if you two need to head back to Konoha, we can hang out another day. There's no rush at all. We can figure out timing later."
Tsunade's voice, dry and amused: "I'm not going anywhere until I've eaten breakfast. A real breakfast. Blake kept telling me about something called 'pancakes' while we were in Konoha, and I've been thinking about them for three months. I want a stack. A big one. With that syrup stuff."
I grinned despite the panic. Even from the shower, I could practically hear Tsunade's stomach growling at the prospect.
Pepper's voice, and I could hear the genuine smile in it even through a closed door and running water: "I know a great breakfast place about two blocks from here. They do incredible pancakes, and they have these Belgian waffles that..."
"Waffles?" Tsunade interrupted, clearly intrigued. "What's a waffle?"
"Oh, Lady Tsunade," Pepper said, and there was a warmth in her tone that hadn't been there at the start of this encounter, a thawing, a wall coming down brick by brick. "You're going to love waffles."
A knock on the bathroom door. "Blake?" Shuri's voice. "I brought a change of clothes from your dorm. They're outside the door. I had a feeling you'd need them."
Of course she did. She was Shuri Himejima. She planned for everything.
I cracked the door, snatched the neatly folded pile of clothes from the floor, and retreated back inside. Jeans. A clean black t-shirt. Socks. Even my sneakers. How she'd gotten into my dorm to retrieve these without Peter having a complete meltdown was a question I'd ask later.
…I stepped out of the portal into an empty alley behind the engineering building, the shimmering blue light collapsing behind me with a soft hum that faded into nothing.
I glanced left. Right. A dumpster. A fire escape. A stray cat that gave me an unimpressed look.
No witnesses.
"Meow…"
No human witnesses…
I straightened my shirt, ran a hand through my still-slightly-damp hair, and walked out of the alley with the forced casualness of a man who absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent did not just tear a hole in the fabric of interdimensional space to avoid being late to his first college class.
Was I ashamed? A little. Slightly. The barest, most microscopic amount.
I'd fought a cadre-class fallen angel in hand-to-hand combat. I'd survived a tailed beast trying to crush me like a bug. I'd stared down Kokabiel's ten wings and spat in his face. And here I was, using the same power that let me bridge entire dimensions to shave seven minutes off my commute because my mother had caught me in a sex-wrecked hotel room and reminded me that I was, despite everything else I'd become, a college freshman with a class schedule.
But I'd made it. That was what mattered.
The SIT campus buzzed with first-day energy as I crossed the main quad toward the physics building. Students moved in clusters, some walking with purpose, others wandering with the wide-eyed look of people who'd been dropped into a world they weren't entirely sure they belonged in. I recognized that look. I'd been wearing it my entire life.
The physics building was a modern structure that looked like someone had asked an architect to design a temple to human knowledge and then handed them an unlimited budget. Which was essentially what had happened, because Tony Stark didn't build things halfway.
I found the lecture hall on the second floor. Room 214. Introduction to Physics.
The auditorium was massive. Tiered seating rising in a gentle arc toward the back, each row equipped with smart-desks that had embedded screens and touch interfaces. Holographic projection systems lined the front wall behind the podium. The lighting was warm but bright, designed to keep students alert without giving them headaches. Everything gleamed with the unmistakable polish of a building that had opened its doors for the very first time this semester.
Tony's money at work. Billions of dollars poured into creating a place where brilliant people could learn and grow and push the boundaries of what humanity was capable of.
And here was Blake Himejima, half-fallen angel, interdimensional traveler, technically a junior year dropout, sliding into a seat in the middle rows of a physics lecture like he belonged here.
Do I belong here?
The question surfaced before I could stop it, dragging with it the familiar undertow of doubt that had followed me since I was ten years old standing in front of a social worker's office with no name and no memories.
I'd never been a great student. That wasn't false modesty or fishing for sympathy, it was simple fact. The foster system had annihilated my academic record. Bouncing between homes meant bouncing between schools, missing weeks or sometimes months at a stretch, arriving at each new place behind and leaving before I could catch up. By the time I'd landed at Midtown High, I was eighteen and still stuck in my junior year. Not because I was stupid. I wasn't.
But because the system had never given me the chance to prove otherwise.
I'd never finished junior year. Never walked across a stage or thrown a cap in the air. Instead, I'd gotten isekai'd to another dimension, trained with legendary shinobi, found my mother, fought for my life, and eventually come back to Earth and passed the GED with scores that surprised even me.
Those scores, combined with whatever strings Tony had pulled and whatever raw potential the admissions board had seen in my application, had earned me a full scholarship to the Stark Institute of Technology.
I was here now. And I genuinely wanted to do well.
Not for Tony. Not for my mom. Not to prove anything to anyone except myself.
I settled into my seat. Middle of the auditorium. Not too close to the front because I wasn't trying to be that guy on the first day. Not in the back because I'd promised myself I was actually going to try. A comfortable, committed middle ground that said I'm here, I'm engaged, and I will not fall asleep unless the lecture is truly terrible.
I dropped my bag beside my chair, pulled out the tablet SIT had issued during orientation, and exhaled.
Made it.
"Hi, Blake." The voice came from my left. Warm and familiar, carrying a smile in its tone before I even turned to see it on her face. Jean Grey dropped into the seat beside mine.
"Hi, Jean," I said, and I meant it when I say I wasn't surprised. Not even a little.
Jean and Emma had both enrolled at SIT. They'd been transparent about that from the start, about wanting to be near me, about building a life in this timeline that kept them in my orbit.
What did surprise me, in a way that I took a moment to quietly appreciate, was that it was just Jean.
Alone.
Without Emma.
Her long red hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame her face in soft waves that caught the overhead lights and turned them into threads of copper and flame. She wore fitted jeans and a dark green top that did something almost criminal to the color of her eyes, making those vivid emerald irises practically glow. White sneakers. A leather messenger bag slung over one shoulder that she set down by her feet as she settled into the seat. No makeup that I could see, or if there was any, it was so subtle it might as well have been invisible.
She didn't need it. Jean Grey's beauty wasn't the kind that needed enhancement. It was the kind that worked on you quietly, like a song you couldn't get out of your head. You'd look at her and think "pretty," and then you'd look again and think "beautiful," and then you'd look a third time and realize you'd forgotten what you were doing before you started looking because something about the way light played across her cheekbones or the way her lips curved when she smiled had short-circuited whatever task your brain had been performing.
I was looking closely.
She's really pretty.
The thought floated through my mind before I could censor it, and I immediately remembered that the really pretty girl sitting next to me could hear every single thing happening inside my skull.
But that thought led to a more important realization. One that made something in my chest ease.
This was the first time I'd been alone with just Jean. No Emma beside her, the two of them projecting that combined intensity that made it nearly impossible to focus on either one individually.
I liked Jean and Emma. I was attracted to them. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. But they'd always come at me as a pair. A matched set. Two gorgeous, powerful, slightly terrifying women who moved in tandem and finished each other's thoughts, both figuratively and literally given the telepathy. The effect was... overwhelming. Not in a bad way. But in a way that meant I'd never really had the chance to just sit with one of them and talk. To ask questions. To listen. To learn who Jean Grey was as a person, separate from the unit of "Jean and Emma," separate from the narrative of "the time-traveling women who love Blake."
But right now, in this mundane lecture hall surrounded by normal college freshmen comparing schedules and nervously tapping their pens, it was just me and Jean.
And that felt really nice, actually.
Then my brain, because it was a traitorous, ungovernable organ that answered to no authority including my own desperate willpower, decided that this particular moment of emotional vulnerability was the perfect time to replay last night's greatest hits.
Tsunade's body above mine. Flushed and glistening. The wet slap of skin against skin as she rode me. Shizune's thighs trembling on either side of my face as my tongue...
No. No no no. Periodic table. Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Beryllium.
Tsunade's massive tits bouncing with every thrust, nipples swollen and pink, Shizune's mouth wrapped around one of them while her tongue...
BORON. CARBON. NITROGEN. OXYGEN.
The way they'd kissed each other above me, tongues visible, connected by a string of saliva...
DAMMIT.
I clamped down on the thought so hard I practically gave myself a headache, but I knew with soul-deep certainty that it was too late. The highlight reel had played. The damage was done.
I looked at Jean.
Her smile hadn't changed. Not exactly. But there was a new quality to it. A subtle curve at the corner of her lips that hadn't been there before. A flicker in those green eyes that could have been amusement, could have been something warmer, could have been both. And the faintest blush, barely-there pink, had crept across her cheeks just above those freckles.
She didn't say a word about it. Didn't acknowledge it. Didn't tease me. Didn't make it weird. Just sat there with that knowing, quietly flushed smile and let the moment pass with a grace that I was profoundly grateful for.
She heard all of that. Every single frame. And she's choosing to be cool about it.
I really don't deserve these women.
Right. Okay. Moving on. If I was going to spend an entire semester sitting next to a telepath, I needed to accept that my mental privacy was a concept rather than a reality and just... talk to her. Like a normal person. Out loud. With words that I was choosing intentionally rather than thoughts my brain was broadcasting without my consent.
"So," I said, shifting slightly in my seat to face her more fully. "Can I ask you something?"
"You just did," Jean replied, her grin widening a fraction. "But sure. Go ahead."
"What do you want to do? With all of this?" I gestured vaguely at the lecture hall, the campus beyond, the general concept of being enrolled in a university. "You and Emma came here, enrolled, picked classes. You're sitting in a physics lecture on a Monday morning. So what's the plan? What does Jean Grey want to be when she grows up?"
I'd meant the last part as a joke, but something in the way her expression shifted told me the question landed deeper than I'd intended.
Jean leaned back in her seat, her red hair spilling over the backrest as she considered her answer. Her fingers played absently with the edge of her tablet, spinning it in a slow rotation on the desk surface. The ambient noise of the filling lecture hall hummed around us, dozens of conversations overlapping into a wash of sound, but in the little pocket of space between our seats, it felt quiet.
"Honestly?" she said after a moment. "I've been thinking about that a lot." She turned her head to look at me, and there was an openness in her expression that I hadn't seen before. "In my last life," she began, her voice dropping slightly, not from secrecy but from the weight of talking about a timeline she and Emma usually refused to discuss, "I became a doctor. Went through the whole process. Undergrad. Med school. Residency. Years and years of studying, training, working insane shifts, the full gauntlet." A faint, fond smile crossed her lips. "I was good at it, too. Really good. Turns out being able to sense exactly what's wrong with a patient on a neurological level makes diagnosis significantly easier."
I could imagine. An omega-level telepath with medical training would be the most effective doctor in human history. The thought of what she must have been capable of was incredible.
"So why not do it again?" I asked. "You already have all the knowledge. You could probably test out of most of the coursework and fast-track the whole thing."
Jean shook her head, and there was something resolute in the gesture. "That's exactly why I'm not doing it again. I already know all of it, Blake. Every anatomy lesson. Every pharmacology lecture. Every clinical procedure. It's all in here." She tapped her temple lightly. "Sitting through years of medical school to relearn things I mastered over a decade ago, from my perspective at least, would feel like... like reading the same book twice when there's an entire library I haven't touched." She straightened in her seat, and her green eyes brightened with something that looked a lot like excitement. Anticipation. "So this time, I'm thinking engineering."
"Engineering?" I wasn't expecting that.
"Engineering," Jean confirmed, and the smile she gave me was warm and alive in a way that made her whole face glow. "That probably sounds strange coming from someone who can move things with her mind instead of, you know, building them. But that's kind of the point. I've spent my whole life in my head. My powers are all mental. Everything I do is through thought. I want to learn how to create something with my hands. Something tangible. Something I can point to and say I built that, and it exists in the world because I understood how to make it work."
That's... really cool, actually.
Jean's blush deepened just slightly, and her eyes darted away from mine for a half-second before returning. She'd heard that thought too, obviously. But instead of the knowing smirk from earlier, her expression was softer now. Pleased in a quiet, genuine way.
"What about you?" she asked, turning the question back on me. "What does Blake Himejima want to be when he grows up?"
"Honestly? I don't know yet." The admission didn't sting as much as I thought it would. Maybe because Jean wasn't the type of person who would judge me for it. "Beyond the obvious stuff," I continued, turning the pen between my fingers. "Being a hero. Protecting the people I care about. But in terms of a normal path? A career? Something that isn't defined by my bloodline or my powers?" The words came out more raw than I intended.
I felt Jean's attention sharpen beside me, her gaze steady and warm, but she didn't interrupt. Didn't offer platitudes or sympathy. She just listened.
"So yeah," I finished, managing a crooked smile. "I'm here. I'm going to show up, do the work, and figure it out as I go. That's the best plan I've got."
Jean was quiet for a moment. Not the awkward silence of someone who didn't know what to say, but the intentional pause of someone choosing their words carefully because they mattered.
Then she smiled at me. Soft. Sure. The kind of smile that felt like a hand on your shoulder, steady and grounding.
"Whatever it is," Jean said, her voice carrying a quiet conviction that went straight through me, "I'm sure you'll be amazing at it."
No hesitation in her voice. No polite hedging. No I think or probably or I hope. Just a quiet, absolute statement of faith delivered with the calm conviction of a woman who had seen the worst the future had to offer, who had watched timelines burn, and who still looked at me and saw something worth believing in.
I held her gaze for a beat longer than was strictly casual. In the warm light of the lecture hall, her green eyes were vivid and deep, flecked with tiny points of gold near the pupils that I'd never noticed before. Freckles scattered across her nose like a constellation I wanted to map.
I want to get to know this woman. Not because she loves me. Not because she's beautiful. Not because she came from the future. But because she's someone worth knowing.
The corner of Jean's mouth twitched. Just barely. A micro-movement that told me she'd caught that thought too. But all she did was smile. Soft and warm and private, like a secret shared between two people who were just beginning to understand each other.
"Thanks, Jean," I said quietly.
"Anytime."
We sat there for a moment in comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need to be filled with words. Her shoulder was close to mine in the shared space of the auditorium seating.
It was nice.
It was really, really nice.
Then the door at the front of the lecture hall opened, and the ambient buzz of conversation began to die down like a tide pulling away from shore.
The professor walked in.
She was a tall woman, early fifties maybe, with sharp features and silver-streaked dark hair pulled back in a no-nonsense bun. She moved with the brisk confidence of someone who had spent decades being the smartest person in whatever room she occupied and had long since stopped being modest about it. Her name was already projected on the holographic display behind the podium:
Dr. Elena Vasquez. Theoretical Physics.
Tony had raided MIT's faculty roster like a viking pillaging a monastery. This woman was supposedly one of the top minds in her field, and she'd jumped ship the second Tony dangled the promise of unlimited research funding and state-of-the-art facilities.
Dr. Vasquez set her bag on the podium, adjusted the holographic display with a practiced wave of her hand, and surveyed the packed auditorium with the appraising look of a general sizing up fresh recruits.
"Good morning," she said, her voice cutting through the residual chatter with effortless authority. "Welcome to Introduction to Physics. I'm Dr. Vasquez. You're here because someone, either your test scores or your application or the absurd amount of money Tony Stark poured into this institution, convinced the admissions board that you have potential. My job for the next four months is to find out if that's true." She paused, letting the weight of the statement settle. "Let's begin."
I straightened in my seat. Opened my tablet. Pulled up a blank notes page.
Beside me, Jean did the same, her red hair sliding over her shoulder as she leaned forward slightly. Her arm brushed against mine as she settled in, the brief contact sending a small, warm current through my skin. She glanced at me, caught my eye, and gave me the tiniest smile.
I smiled back.
XXX
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