I got transmigrated with Incubus system-Chapter 22: The Victory claim (18+)

Arthur headed up to the Academy dorm as the evening got dark. He'd cleaned up and changed after the Trial, changing his battle outfit for something nice but not too flashy.

Everyone who used to ignore him was suddenly all over him - servants bowing, guards standing at attention, and courtiers falling over themselves with congratulations.

But Arthur didn't care about their fake respect. The real prize was waiting ahead - getting back to business with Beatrice.

Girls' dorms were supposed to be off-limits to guys after dark, but those rules didn't apply to the heir.

The guard who usually watched the entrance wasn't there - Valentina's doing, keeping her promise to set things up for tonight.

Arthur went up to the third floor where the advanced students lived. The hallway was quiet with most students studying or at lectures. He walked confidently to Beatrice's private room at the end of the hall - a perk for being top student.

He knocked with authority, like someone who expected the door to open.

"Who is it?" Beatrice called, sounding annoyed.

"You know exactly who it is," Arthur said quietly.

After a long silence, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Go away, Arthur. I'm not in the mood to celebrate your victory," she said through the door, sounding both angry and something else.

"Open the door, Beatrice," he replied, adding some of his Royal Authority to his voice. "We have unfinished business."

The lock clicked and the door opened just enough to show Beatrice blocking the entrance.

She was wearing just a thin nightie that barely reached mid-thigh.

The fabric was so see-through he could clearly see her nipples hardening in the cool air. Every curve of her body was visible through the silk. Her hair, usually in a tight braid, now hung loose around her shoulders in waves.

She looked like she was getting ready for bed - or maybe something else entirely.

"What do you want?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with the court?"

Arthur checked her emotions with his ability

[Emotional Sensing: Active]

[Target: Beatrice]

[Emotions: Anger 65%, Desire 80%, Curiosity 95%, Submission 50% ↑]

[Energy Cost: -5]

[Energy Reserves: 175/300]

```

"I could be," he shrugged. "But I promised you training, and unlike some people, I keep my word."

Her expression changed. "A promise you already broke once."

"I had more important things to handle," Arthur replied without apologizing. "Today's results make that pretty clear."

After hesitating, she reluctantly stepped back to let him in.

The room was intimate - soft golden light from a single lamp, bookshelves on one wall, a desk with scrolls on another, and a large bed with turned-down sheets dominating the far end.

Arthur locked the door behind him with a deliberate click that made her eyes widen.

"We shouldn't be alone like this," she said, backing up. "If my brother—"

"Elliot works for me now," Arthur cut her off. "Right now, he's handling my business, on my orders."

Arthur moved closer, backing her against the wall by her desk. The lamplight showed her body through the thin nightie - her thighs rubbing together as she moved, her perky breasts standing firm beneath the silk.

"You left pretty quickly after the fight today," he said, getting close. "Most people stayed to congratulate me."

"I'm don't care," she replied defiantly. "And I don't like being stood up for training, heir or not."

Arthur smiled and closed the distance, putting his hand on the wall beside her head, trapping her without touching her. He could feel her body heat.

"You're right," he said, his voice dropping lower. "You're not most people. That's why I'm here for you to feast."

Up close, he could see her breathing getting faster, pushing her nipples against the silk with each breath. Her pupils were dilated and a flush spread from her cheeks down her neck toward her breasts.

"What kind of training happens in my bedroom at night?" she asked.

"The kind you really want," Arthur replied, bringing his face close to hers. "I've seen how you look at me. You called me 'big brother' as an excuse to be close without admitting what you really wanted."

Her breath caught. "That's not—"

"Isn't it?" His hand tilted her face up. "Today you saw what I can do. Now you're wondering what else I might do to you."

She shivered but didn't pull away, caught between outrage and desire.

"Your magical potential is exceptional," Arthur continued, his thumb tracing her jaw, then her lip, pressing until her mouth parted. "But your training's incomplete. You've been taught to control yourself. What you need is someone who can teach you to let go."

His hand moved to her throat, feeling her racing pulse under his fingers.

"But you are here for magical training," she whispered, even as she leaned toward him, her breasts barely touching his chest.

"And you'll get it," Arthur promised. "But there are different kinds of magic - the Academy kind, and the kind between a man and a woman."

His fingers slipped beneath the silk to feel the soft curve of her breast. "Your potential needs a more... steam release."

Beatrice's breathing changed as she understood the meaning. Something in her expression changed - her resistance crumbling under desire she'd denied too long.

"I don't understand what's happening," she admitted quietly. "When I saw you in the arena today, you seemed... different. Powerful in a way I've never felt before. It made me feel things... down there."

Arthur leaned in, whispering, "That's because I am different. And I can show you things the Academy never will. Things that will make your pussy drip just thinking about them."

His hand moved to her breast, cupping it through the thin silk. Her nipple hardened instantly against his palm, the sensitive peak pushing eagerly into his hand as he squeezed and massaged the soft mound. Even though it was small his hands grabbed it perfectly.

"So responsive," he murmured, catching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He rolled the stiff bud, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm, feeling it grow even harder with each expert twist. "I wonder if your cunt is just as eager."

Beatrice gasped loudly, grabbing his shoulders. Her nails dug in through his shirt, her eyes wide with shock at his filthy words and how her body was responding to them.

"This isn't—we shouldn't—" she stammered, but her body told a different story. Her back arched, pushing her breast more firmly into his hand, while her hips made small, needy movements against him, her body seeking friction against his.

"Your mind says no, but your body is begging for it," Arthur observed, continuing to work her nipple until it stood out prominently against the silk.

His free hand moved lower, gathering the nightie's hem and slowly lifting it up her legs. The silky material bunched around his wrist as his fingers found the impossibly soft skin of her inner thigh. "Consider this your first real lesson."

Beatrice was barely resisting now. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand moved higher between her thighs, his fingertips tracing feather-light patterns on her sensitive skin.

As he reached the crease where leg met hip, he discovered she wasn't wearing anything underneath – no barrier between his exploring fingers and her most intimate area.

"My brother would kill you if he knew," she whispered without conviction.

"Your brother wasn't there for you today," Arthur reminded her, his fingers continuing their upward journey along her inner thigh, moving closer to the heat radiating from between her legs. "I am."