Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 851

Chapter 851: Sensual Massage [Bonus]
“By all means,” Quinlan nodded, replicating Serika’s seriousness. It was clear she wasn’t thinking of this as a lewd move on her part, so Quinlan decided he’d stop being a simp and simply enjoy a sensual massage from another world.

Serika knelt next to the towel she brought for this occasion and placed a small lacquered box beside her that was filled with a blend of oils she had procured. She poured a few drops into her palm and let her fire qi warm it with a subtle glow. A thin wisp of steam curled from her fingers.

“Lie down, face first,” she instructed in a tone that was neutral. But her eyes were sharp, focused.

Quinlan did as ordered. The dirt, the bruises, and the sweat from all their brutal training had made this moment feel earned. He stretched out on the towel with his arms folded beneath his head, face turned toward her kneeling form as he watched her pour more oil into her palms.

The sight of her in the firelight—naked, confident, utterly unconcerned—was almost more overwhelming than the combat earlier. Serika was not trying to be seductive or flirtatious. She was just being Serika Vael, her usual self. Powerful, honest, unashamed.

She straddled him without any ceremony, her thighs now resting on either side of his lower back. “Tell me if it’s too rough.”

Then came her hands.

They pressed into his shoulders first, thumbs kneading into knots he hadn’t even noticed existed. Fire qi pulsed gently into the muscle, loosening tension with each passing moment. Her heat wasn’t painful, it was like hot stones under flowing water, soothing and deep, a burn that melted into pleasure.

Quinlan groaned. Loudly. “Holy fuck…”

“You alright?” she asked, concerned, pausing mid-press.

“Better than alright,” he mumbled into his arms. “That’s the best thing I’ve felt all day. Maybe ever. Besides the tender embrace of my lovers, of course…”

A slight smirk played across her lips as she easily ignored the rest of his mumbling. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I was getting it right.”

“You’re getting it very right, Teach. Please proceed. This humble and hardworking student of yours is eager to receive the rest of his much-earned massage session.”

“… Coming right up.”

Her hands worked with the efficiency of a martial artist, but the care of a comrade. She started at the shoulders, moved to his arms, and then back to his spine. Her palms slid with practiced pressure, warming the oil with bursts of controlled fire qi that flushed his skin and stoked his senses.

Every muscle she touched unwound. Every breath he took seemed to feel better than the last.

By the time she reached his lower back, he was half-melted into the towel, floating somewhere between pleasure and sleep.

“You’re surprisingly soft when you’re not snarling at me to keep my guard up… or beating the shit out of me,” he muttered, voice low and lazy.

Serika chuckled, her fingers continuing to knead into the tense muscles along his spine. Her fire qi pulsed gently through her palms, not scorching but radiating into him like heated silk. “I see no reason to hold back during training. But that doesn’t mean I can’t act like a normal person outside of training hours…”

“Right. Now that you mention it, I can’t help but notice that your training methods are vastly different from your father’s,” Quinlan said, shifting slightly under her touch. “He just… sat there, meditating with his eyes closed while telling me to do this or that. You’re basically the opposite. Very hands-on.”

Serika’s palms slowed for a moment as if weighing the words. Then she resumed with deliberate strokes, dipping lower and working his hips with controlled strength.

Her voice turned softer than before, tender. “That’s because my father is a genius. He’s the kind of man who was simply born for cultivation. Everything comes easily to him—qi control, swordsmanship, blacksmithing, history, theory, you name it. He can watch someone fight for a few minutes while sipping tea and give them advice that shatters their limits. He can explain concepts that sound like riddles from ancient sages, and somehow, they work.”

Quinlan could hear the note of admiration in her voice, but also the distance. The faint edge of inadequacy.

She continued, her hands gliding down to his thighs. “Me? I wasn’t born with any of that. No genius insight, no perfect intuition. So I compensate the only way I know how, which is by throwing everything I have into becoming stronger. My body, my spirit, my time, my discipline. That’s all I’ve got.”

She paused to coat her hands in more oil, warming it with fire qi before spreading it across the lean muscles of his legs. “I can’t teach by watching. If I sit still and meditate while you throw punches against thin air, I won’t know what to say. I have to feel it. I need to clash with your rhythm, sense your timing, your habits, your tells. That’s the only way I can understand where you’re lacking, and provide you with tips on how to fix it.”

She leaned forward, kneading deep into the tension knotted behind his knees, her voice nearly a whisper now. “It’s the only way I know how to teach.”

Quinlan remained silent for a few seconds, mulling over her honest words. He then smiled into his arm.

“Well, if it’s any relief… I far prefer your method. Your father was a brilliant cultivator, no doubt, but he was also a rude bastard. Though that was perhaps only because he planned to throw me away from the start… Anyhow. You, Serika… you’re a dedicated teacher. You don’t just throw wisdom at me and expect it to stick. You care. You remind me of my Ayame.”

Serika’s hands slowed again, curiosity flickering across her face. “Ayame?”

Quinlan let out a long breath, eyelids fluttering half-closed. “Someone important. Someone who believed in me before I did. She’s the woman who saved me numerous times and also the one who taught me swordsmanship. I hope that you’ll get to meet her someday.”

The way he said it—quiet, wistful—made Serika pause completely, her hands resting lightly on his back now.

Then she nodded once, solemnly, almost like she understood something deeper was being left unsaid. “I look forward to meeting another teacher of the Avatar,” she said softly. “Maybe we can exchange some notes.”

Another pulse of heat rolled through him as Serika resumed his massage session in full. She leaned forward and slid up on his oily skin, her chest grazing his back. She didn’t stop until her lips were practically right in his ear.

“Still good?” she asked.

“Good? It’s simply heavenly…” he whispered. “I don’t even know how I’m still alive.”

That earned a soft, genuine laugh from the woman.

Then her hands slid down to his behind, strong and sure. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t falter. Serika wasn’t one to get flustered over proximity or nudity. Her focus remained on the work, even if their bodies touched, even if the heat from her skin mingled with his, even if every inch of her was pressed against him for better leverage.

To Quinlan, it was like lying beneath a living flame. Dangerous, but oh so beautiful, so damned entrancing.

He turned his head, catching a glimpse of her in the corner of his vision.