CHAPTER 547: HIDING HEAT IN PLAIN SIGHT (5)

"AHHHNNN!" that echoed through the clearing like thunder, her blue eyes rolling back, her blonde ponytail splayed like a banner of surrender across the grass. Her vest creaked, her fingers clawed the earth with a scrunch scrunch, her core clenching around Lyan’s thing as a flood of warmth filled her cave, the quelch quelch a final, triumphant note as her belly swelled slightly, holding every drop. Lyan’s own release was a silent storm, his scar glinting in the firelight, his dark eyes heavy with satisfaction as he held her through the tremors. The slap slap slowed, then stilled, the night air thick with the scent of pine, sweat, and thyme, a heady brew that clung to Arielle’s senses. Her fingers froze, her breath ragged, her own climax a trembling edge she hadn’t crossed, the shlick shlick fading as she watched, wide-eyed, her spectacles fogging with the heat of her breath. She’s radiant, Arielle thought, her heart aching with awe and envy, Sigrid’s strength and surrender a mirror to her own desires.

Lyan eased back, his thing still proud, glistening in the firelight like a blade fresh from the forge, unyielding as a warrior’s vow. Sigrid collapsed onto the grass, her chest heaving with a satisfied huff huff, her blue eyes half-closed, her lips curved in a smile that was both fierce and tender. The crackle crackle of the fire seemed to cheer her, the tick tick of the acid ants a quiet applause as they scuttled through the grass, their glowing mandibles weaving patterns of light. Lara and Tara moved with a hunter’s grace, their laughter soft but eager as they knelt before Lyan, their hands and lips working to clean him, the slrp slrp of their tongues a gentle, reverent sound. Lara’s red braid swung like a flame, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she teased him with a slow slrp, her freckled nose crinkling with delight, her lean frame relaxed yet vibrant. Tara’s fair skin glowed, her thyme-scented hair brushing his thigh with a rustle rustle, her slrp slrp softer, more delicate, but no less devoted, her brown eyes warm with adoration.

Arielle’s heart lurched, her core throbbing as the plug pulsed, a warm reminder of her own connection to Lyan. They’re so alive, she thought, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch, to join, to be part of this fire. Her shlick shlick resumed, a tentative rhythm that grew bolder, her silk undergarments damp with her arousal, the rustle rustle a secret rebellion against her scholar’s restraint. I want to feel that, she thought, her mind spinning with images of Lyan’s hands, his lips, his thing filling her as it had Sigrid, Lara, Tara. The slap slap

and quelch quelch lingered in her memory, a song she couldn’t shake, her core aching with a need that felt like a storm breaking over the hills.

Sigrid, still flushed, crawled closer, her blue eyes heavy with the glow of satisfaction yet blazing with a hunger that refused to be sated. Her muscular frame moved with a predator’s grace, each motion deliberate, her fur-lined vest creaking with a creak creak that echoed the taut strength of her body, like a bowstring drawn tight. Her blonde ponytail swayed, a golden cascade spilling across her shoulders, catching the firelight like a warrior’s banner. "Kiss me, My Lord Husband," she murmured, her voice husky, a plea wrapped in devotion that sent a shiver through Arielle’s core, her scholar’s heart stuttering like a quill skipping across parchment. Lyan leaned down, his scar glinting silver in the firelight, his dark eyes pools of quiet intensity. His lips captured Sigrid’s in a deep, searing kiss, the slrp slrp of their tongues a fierce, wet dance that echoed through the clearing, a primal melody that seemed to make the stars pulse brighter. Sigrid’s hands cupped his face, her calloused fingers tracing his scar with a brush brush that was both tender and possessive, her mmh! muffled against his lips as she pressed closer, her vest creaking louder, creak creak, a sound that wove into the crackle crackle of the fire, as if the flames themselves cheered their union. The tick tick of the acid ants formed a quiet rhythm in the background, a heartbeat that bound them all in this moment of fire and starlight.

Arielle’s fingers twitched, her core aching with a heat that felt like a furnace stoked by the sight before her. The plug pulsed within her, a warm, grounding weight that whispered Lyan’s name with every shift, tethering her to him even as her body yearned to break free. I want to be there, she thought, her scholar’s mind a fragile dam against the wildfire in her veins, the thud thud of her pulse a drumbeat that matched the night’s primal rhythm. Her touch resumed, a tentative shlick shlick against the damp silk of her undergarments, sending sparks through her core, each motion a quiet rebellion against her ledger-bound restraint. Her breath hitched, a ragged huff huff as she imagined herself in Sigrid’s place, her lips locked with Lyan’s, her cave filled by his proud, unyielding thing. The mountain women’s laughter, their slrp slrp and mmh!, was a siren’s call, drawing her deeper into the moment, her arousal a tide she couldn’t stem, a flood that threatened to sweep her away. They’re so free, she thought, her spectacles slipping down her nose, fogging with the heat of her breath. Sigrid’s fierce devotion, Lara’s bold fire, Tara’s delicate surrender—it was a tapestry of passion, and Arielle was both outside it and woven into it, her own desire a thread burning bright.

Lara pulled back from her earlier ministrations, her green eyes flashing like emeralds caught in the firelight, her red braid a fiery streak that seemed to dance with the flames. "Me, Chief Husband," she said, her voice bold but softened by a longing that made Arielle’s chest tighten, a hunter’s confidence laced with a vulnerability that felt like a blade’s edge. Lara strode to a flat, massive stone at the clearing’s edge, its surface smooth and cool under the starlight, gleaming like a polished altar under the moon’s gaze. With a fluid motion, she lay back, raising her legs and parting them, her cave exposed to Lyan, glistening in the moonlight like a secret unveiled. The rustle rustle of her leather armor settling around her hips was a quiet invitation, the leather creaking softly, creak creak, as she shifted, her freckled nose crinkling with a smile that was both playful and unafraid. "Now," she added, her voice a challenge and a plea, the whoosh of her breath mingling with the crackle crackle

of the fire, a sound that seemed to urge the night forward. Arielle’s heart pounded, her core throbbing as she watched Lara’s lean frame open to Lyan, her freckles a constellation against her flushed skin, her green eyes blazing with a hunger that mirrored Arielle’s own.

Lyan’s half-smile bloomed, his scar catching the light like a silver thread, his dark eyes glinting with a quiet promise. His thing, still proud and ready, stood unyielding, a warrior’s vow made flesh, glistening in the firelight. Tara lingered at his side, her fair cheeks flushed a soft rose, her thyme-scented hair swaying like a meadow breeze as she watched, her mmh! a soft echo of anticipation that sent a shiver through Arielle’s core. Sigrid, now sitting up, her blonde ponytail swaying like a pendulum, clapped once, a sharp clap clap that rang through the clearing, a sound of approval and encouragement that seemed to rally the stars themselves. Arielle’s fingers moved faster, the shlick shlick a desperate rhythm against the damp silk, her breath a ragged huff huff as she watched Lyan kneel before Lara, his hands gentle but firm, guiding her legs higher with a brush brush against her skin, a touch that felt like a vow spoken in whispers. They’re his, Arielle thought, her core tightening, the plug pulsing like a second heartbeat. And I’m his too.

The slap slap resumed, slower now, deliberate, as Lyan entered Lara’s cave, her lean frame arching with a sharp "AHH!" that cut through the night like a blade, piercing the quiet with a raw, vibrant edge. The quelch quelch was softer, more intimate, a wet pulse that matched the thud thud of Arielle’s heart, each sound a thread in the night’s primal tapestry. Lara’s hands gripped the stone, her knuckles paling with a scrunch scrunch as she rocked against him, her red braid splayed across the rock like a flame licking the night, her green eyes wide with bliss. Tara leaned in, her lips finding Lyan’s in a quick, hungry kiss, the slrp slrp a fleeting spark that ignited a soft mmh! from her throat before she pulled back, her fingers teasing her own peak with a pinch pinch that made her fair cheeks flush deeper, her thyme-scented hair brushing Lyan’s shoulder with a rustle rustle. Arielle’s core tightened, her touch a frantic shlick shlick as she watched, her spectacles slipping further, her breath a ragged huff huff that fogged the lenses. They’re so beautiful, she thought, her envy softening into awe, Lara’s fierce grace a wildfire, Tara’s delicate fire a glowing ember, Sigrid’s unyielding strength a mountain unbowed.

The slap slap grew sharper, Slap! Slap! SLAP!, each sound a lightning bolt that seared through the clearing, Lara’s cries rising—"YES! CHIEF HUSBAND!"