The Incubus System Chapter 742. Doesn't That Sound Like You Cuckolding Dad?

The Incubus System Chapter 742. Doesn't That Sound Like You Cuckolding Dad?

The clock on the wall displayed 5:40 PM as I made up my mind to return home. "I'm home," I called out as soon as I stepped through the portal, the familiar warmth of my living room enveloping me like a comforting embrace.

To my surprise, it wasn't Celia who greeted me but Mrs. Clea.

"You're starting to sound like your dad, Ethan," Mrs. Clea chuckled warmly, her eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief.

I turned to face her, a small smile playing on my lips. Mrs. Clea was seated in the cozy living room, where my beloved pets and Foxy were engaged in playful antics with Alan, who had transformed into his bird form. Celia sat nearby.

"Good evening, Mrs. Clea," I greeted.

Her gaze observed my incubus form with a mixture of curiosity and familiarity.

"You look different in this form," she commented, her voice tinged with awe and wonder.

I couldn't help but chuckle, finding amusement in her observation. "Yeah," I replied casually, allowing my body to shift back into its human form. The transformation was seamless. "I just visited some of my partners. You know, doing the usual stuff," I explained nonchalantly as if it were an everyday occurrence.

Mrs. Clea raised an eyebrow, her expression a perfect blend of amusement and curiosity. "Having sex?" she ventured, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes.

"Well, you hit the nail on the head," I admitted with a playful grin.

"Brother, can we talk?" Celia's voice cut through the air with a sense of urgency, pulling me from my conversation with Mrs. Clea.

"Sure," I replied, curious about the sudden seriousness in her tone. We stepped away from the living room and found ourselves crouching in the kitchen as if we were two mischievous kids hiding from the world and watching ants scurry about.

I glanced at Celia, searching her face for any clues as to what might be troubling her. Her eyes were wide, reflecting a mix of concern and curiosity.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to decipher the reason for her urgency.

Celia took a deep breath before speaking, her words coming out in a rush. "You mentioned that Mrs. Clea was Dad's ex-girlfriend, right?"

"Yeah," I replied, meeting Celia's gaze with a mixture of understanding and amusement. Her straightforwardness never failed to catch me off guard, but I appreciated her directness nonetheless.

Celia's question hung in the air, laced with a mix of curiosity and genuine concern. "Have you ever... you know, done it with her?" she asked, her words tinged with a hint of hesitation.

I nodded in response, acknowledging her inquiry. "Not yet," I confirmed.

Celia's raised eyebrow prompted me to elaborate, her curiosity pushing for further understanding. "Not yet? Does that mean you will one day?" she prodded, seeking clarification.

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. "That depends on her," I confessed.

Celia's skeptical look pierced through my nonchalant facade, her eyes narrowing as she searched for deeper meaning in my words. She had always been perceptive, able to read between the lines and uncover hidden truths. With a hint of disbelief, she posed her hypothesis, almost as if she already knew the answer. "You know it will, right?" she guessed, her voice laced with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

I hesitated for a moment, my thoughts swirling as I tried to articulate my feelings. "Well... I think. Someday..." I responded, my voice trailing off with uncertainty.

A brief silence hung in the air between us, tension crackling as we both grappled with the complexities of the situation. Celia was trying to comprehend my perspective, while I sought to clarify my intentions.

"I mean, she is my partner," I began, my voice gaining conviction as I explained my viewpoint. “She might be tempted by me. Or I might seduce her,” I explained, defending myself.

Celia's face contorted in a cringe as she blurted out her question, her words hanging in the air like an uncomfortable truth. "Doesn't that sound like you cuckolding Dad?" she asked, her voice a mixture of disbelief and disapproval. The bluntness of her inquiry caught me off guard, forcing me to confront the implications of my actions.

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before responding. "If she marries another man, does that mean that man is cuckolding Dad?" I posed my own question, hoping to shed light on the complexities of relationships.

Celia's brow furrowed as she contemplated my words. I could see the gears turning in her mind as she tried to grasp the broader implications of our discussion. After a brief moment of silence, she reluctantly admitted, "You got a point."

“So yeah,” I shrugged, trying to downplay the significance of the situation.

"But does she love you?" Celia pressed on, her curiosity getting the best of her. It was a question that lingered in my mind, a nagging doubt that I couldn't fully shake off.

I glanced towards the living room where Mrs. Clea sat, engrossed in a book, oblivious to our conversation. With her presence in the house, it was a sensitive topic to discuss. I returned my gaze to Celia, contemplating her question. "I think not yet," I admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

Celia furrowed her brow, her eyes probing for more information. "I mean, I don't know," I added, my voice tinged with a hint of frustration.

“Then, are you happy if she thinks of you as Dad's replacement?" Celia's words hung in the air, a pointed question that struck a nerve.

I raised one of my eyebrows in disbelief, a mixture of annoyance and confusion washing over me. Did she really think I wanted to be seen as a replacement for our father?

"Do I look like Dad?" I retorted, my voice tinged with frustration. It was true, I didn't bear much resemblance to our late father. We were as different as night and day. The thought of being considered a replacement for him felt absurd and far-fetched.

Celia shrugged, her expression nonchalant. "Who knows what she's thinking?" she replied, her words laced with a hint of indifference.