The crimson light of the setting sun, filtered through the stained-glass windows of Ulmandra's private chambers, painted the room in hues of passion and shadow. Dust motes danced in the last rays, illuminating the rich tapestries and formidable, yet elegant, furnishings that spoke volumes of her status as one of the elite Big Four. Ulmandra, clad in a silken robe that barely contained the fierce curves of her body, stood by the window, a goblet of spiced wine clutched in her hand. Her vibrant, fiery red hair cascaded down her back like a molten waterfall, catching the light and shimmering with an otherworldly intensity. Her eyes, those striking emerald green pools, usually sharp with strategic calculation, now held a softer, more contemplative gleam as she watched the distant silhouette of the daemon capital.

Tonight felt different. The air thrummed with an unspoken anticipation, a delicate tension that had been building between her and him – the man from another world, the Salaryman who had been Headhunted To Another World: From Salaryman To Big Four, and found himself inextricably entwined with her fate. He was an anomaly, a curious blend of earnestness and unexpected resilience that had, against all her initial judgments, carved a space deep within her formidable heart. He wasn't just a subordinate; he was… more. Much more.

A soft knock at the heavy oak door startled her from her reverie, a small, involuntary gasp escaping her lips. "Enter," she commanded, her voice a low purr, betraying none of the tremor she felt within. The door opened slowly, revealing his silhouette framed against the corridor's softer lamplight. His eyes, humble yet resolute, met hers across the room, and in that gaze, Ulmandra saw not just respect, but a burgeoning desire that mirrored her own. The very air around them seemed to thicken, charged with the unacknowledged longing that had simmered beneath their professional interactions for weeks, months even.

He stepped in, his presence immediately filling the expansive room with a warmth that was uniquely his. "Ulmandra," he began, his voice a gentle murmur, "I… I just wanted to check on you. You seemed… preoccupied after the council meeting." He often did that, his human empathy cutting through the hardened layers of her daemon persona, a skill she simultaneously found endearing and infuriating. It was this peculiar blend that captivated her, drawing her closer with an irresistible pull.

She turned fully to face him, the silk of her robe rustling softly with the movement, offering him a tantalizing glimpse of the sculpted form beneath. Her green eyes, now narrowed just slightly, assessed him. "Preoccupied, perhaps," she conceded, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. "Or perhaps merely contemplating the unpredictable nature of… destiny." She gestured to the empty space beside her at the window. "Come, join me. The view is rather magnificent tonight."

He approached, his steps soft, almost hesitant, yet his gaze never left her. As he drew near, the subtle scent of his world, a faint memory of paper and coffee that still clung to him despite his time in this realm, mingled with her own exotic fragrance of dark magic and the forest's earth. The contrast was intoxicating. He stopped beside her, his shoulder brushing lightly against her arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Ulmandra savored the sensation, her heart hammering against her ribs with a rhythm more primal than any battle drum.

"Destiny is a fickle mistress," he mused, his voice low, almost a whisper, as he gazed out at the same vista. But his focus wasn't truly on the distant spires; it was on her, Ulmandra, her profile etched against the darkening sky, her fiery red hair a halo of passion. The romantic tension between them was a tangible force, a silent language spoken through lingering gazes and barely-there touches.

She took a slow sip of her wine, her fingers tightening around the goblet. "Indeed," she agreed, her voice husky. "And sometimes, destiny takes the most unexpected turns. A Salaryman Ga Isekai Ni Ittara Shitennou Ni Natta Hanashi… it hardly seems real, does it? Yet, here we are." She turned her head, her green eyes locking with his, an intensity in their depths that stripped away all pretense, all formality. "And sometimes," she continued, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "destiny provides… opportunities."

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken desire. She reached out, her fingers, usually so adept at wielding power and command, now trembled slightly as they brushed against his cheek. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to her own cooler, more resilient touch. Her thumb caressed the slight stubble on his jawline, a gesture of tenderness that felt profoundly intimate for a woman of her formidable stature.

"Ulmandra," he breathed, his hand rising to cover hers, holding it gently against his face. The connection was electric, a dam breaking within both of them. His gaze, full of awe and a burgeoning desperation, searched hers, seeking confirmation, permission. She gave it to him, not with words, but with a slight tilt of her head, a languid closing of her eyes as she leaned into his touch, allowing herself to be vulnerable for perhaps the first time in centuries.

He took a step closer, then another, until their bodies were almost touching. The scent of him, clean and subtly masculine, enveloped her. Her free hand, the one not holding the goblet, came up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath her palm. It beat for her, she realized with a jolt of profound pleasure. This human, this Salaryman, had captivated her. And now, the moment was here. The years of commanding, of being Urmander, the formidable leader, melted away, leaving only the woman.

His lips, soft and tentative at first, brushed against hers. It was a question, a silent plea. Ulmandra responded with an urgency that surprised even herself, parting her lips, allowing his tongue to gently trace their seam. A low moan rumbled in her chest as their mouths finally met, a passionate joining that started slow, then deepened with a fierce hunger. His hands, no longer hesitant, slid around her waist, pulling her flush against his body, the thin silk of her robe offering little resistance. She could feel the hard planes of his chest, the press of his desire against her lower belly.

Her goblet clattered to the floor, forgotten, as her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently. The kiss became a tempest, a maelstrom of longing and release. He tasted of wine and something uniquely human, a sweetness that contrasted delightfully with her own more potent flavors. Every brush of their tongues, every soft groan, ignited a deeper fire within her. This was not a conquest; it was a surrender, mutual and absolute.

His lips left hers, trailing a searing path down her jaw, along her neck, sending shivers through her entire being. Ulmandra arched her back, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her red hair spilling over his arms like liquid flame. "You… you have no idea," she whispered, her voice thick with desire, "how long I've craved this." The admission, raw and uncensored, hung in the air, a testament to the depth of her feelings.

His hands, strong and sure, moved to the sash of her robe, untying it with practiced ease. The silk parted, revealing the flawless, pale skin beneath, a landscape of curves and shadows that took his breath away. Her breasts, full and heavy, swelled with anticipation, their rosy nipples already taut. He gazed at her, his eyes wide with admiration, a silent homage to her daemon beauty. Ulmandra felt a blush creep up her neck, a sensation she hadn't experienced in centuries, and paradoxically, it only heightened her desire.

"Beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. His fingers traced the curve of her hip, then slowly, tantalizingly, moved upward, brushing against her abdomen, making her tremble. He nudged the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a silken pool around her feet. She stood before him, magnificent and unashamed, her green eyes shining with a fiery passion that matched her hair.

He knelt before her then, a gesture of devotion that stole her breath. His eyes, fixed on her, were filled with a reverence that melted her heart. His hand reached out, gently cupping one of her breasts, his thumb stroking the engorged nipple. A gasp escaped her lips, a delicious tremor shaking her from head to toe. "What… what are you doing?" she whispered, though a primal part of her already knew, already yearned for it.

He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Showing my devotion, Ulmandra," he replied, his voice a low rumble. Then, with an elegant grace that surprised her, he leaned forward, his mouth opening, enveloping her nipple. The sensation was exquisite, a shockwave of pleasure that shot straight through her core. His tongue swirled around the sensitive peak, teasing, suckling, drawing out a long, drawn-out moan from deep within her chest. This was beyond anything she had imagined; the raw, uninhibited intimacy was intoxicating.

Her fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pressing him closer, urging him on. He moved from one breast to the other, suckling and teasing, his warm mouth and skilled tongue driving her to the brink. Her legs felt weak, her body arching and swaying as waves of pure sensation washed over her. She was Ulmandra, one of the fearsome Big Four, yet in his hands, she was utterly pliant, responsive to his every touch.

He slowly rose, his gaze still locked on hers, a silent promise in his eyes. He led her to her vast, opulent bed, its silken sheets a stark contrast to her fiery hair. They tumbled onto the mattress, a tangle of limbs and hungry kisses. Her strong daemon hands, so accustomed to wielding destructive magic, now deftly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the toned expanse of his chest. She reveled in the feel of his warm skin against hers, the masculine scent of him filling her senses.

Clothes quickly became an impediment, tossed aside in a flurry of shared urgency. Soon, they were both gloriously naked, their bodies intertwining, exploring. Her long, slender fingers traced the contours of his muscles, feeling the strength beneath his skin. His hands roamed over her, discovering every curve, every dip, every sensitive hollow. She felt utterly cherished, desired, and deeply, truly seen. This was the kind of connection she, Ulmandra, had never thought possible, a bond forged not just through shared trials but through an undeniable, visceral passion.

He moved between her legs, his powerful thighs pressing against hers. Her own legs wrapped around him, drawing him closer. Their eyes met again, and in that silent communication, the last vestiges of hesitation dissolved. She arched her back, offering herself to him fully, her core aching with a delightful, persistent throb. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible, a desperate plea torn from her very soul.

He took her words as his cue, pressing against her entrance, his hardness a thrilling promise. Her body was slick with anticipation, practically begging for him. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, a gasp escaping both their lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect, exquisite fullness that stretched her, filling her completely. She cried out, a sound that was half pain, half pure, unadulterated pleasure, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He paused, allowing her to adjust, his forehead resting against hers. "Are you alright?" he murmured, concern etched on his face. This tenderness, even in the throes of their passion, was what made him truly special, what solidified their bond. "More than alright," Ulmandra breathed, a fierce smile gracing her lips. "Just… perfect. Move."

And he did. Slowly at first, then with increasing rhythm and urgency. Each thrust sent waves of sensation through her, deeper and deeper, until her entire being was focused on the exquisite friction, the intoxicating pressure, the primal dance of their bodies. Her red hair splayed across the pillows, a vibrant contrast to her pale skin, as she bucked and arched beneath him, matching his every movement, a powerful daemoness unleashed in the throes of lovemaking. His grunts, her cries, mingled in the intimate space, the raw, uncensored symphony of their pleasure.

He leaned down, burying his face in her neck, trailing kisses along her collarbone as he continued his relentless rhythm. "Ulmandra," he gasped against her skin, his voice hoarse with desire. "Urmander… you are incredible." The slight variation in her name, spoken in that moment of raw passion, thrilled her. She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper still, wanting to absorb every inch of him, to meld with him completely.

The intensity built, a rising tide that threatened to overwhelm them both. Her body tingled, her core contracting around him with every powerful stroke. She could feel the tremors starting deep within her, a delicious precursor to the coming climax. Her green eyes, wide and unfocused, stared up at the canopy of her bed, seeing only the swirling colors of her own profound pleasure. She was Ulmandra, a fierce leader, but now, she was utterly lost in the moment, in his embrace.

With a final, desperate surge, she cried out his name, her body arching violently as climax ripped through her, a powerful, shuddering release that seemed to last an eternity. Her entire being convulsed, exquisite tremors rippling outward from her core, leaving her breathless and utterly spent. He felt her release, and with a guttural roar, he emptied himself deep within her, his own climax a violent, shuddering eruption that left him collapsing on top of her, their bodies slick with sweat, trembling with the aftershocks of their shared ecstasy.

They lay there for a long time, entangled, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Ulmandra ran her fingers through his damp hair, a soft smile gracing her lips. The air in the room, once charged with tension, now hummed with a profound sense of peace and fulfillment. The moon, now high in the sky, cast silver light through the windows, bathing them in a soft glow.

"That was… quite something," he whispered, his voice still ragged, but full of contentment. He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "You are truly magnificent, Ulmandra."

She chuckled, a low, throaty sound that vibrated through his chest. "And you, Salaryman," she replied, her green eyes sparkling with a renewed fire, "are far more than just a man from another world. You are… mine." She pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his, a soft, tender kiss that sealed their passionate encounter, a promise of many more such nights to come in this world where he had been headhunted, not just for his skills, but for his heart.