CHAPTER 557: DAWN IN TANGLED LIMBS (3)

The week ran fast. Numbers climbed. Water saved by twenty-two parts. Weeding faster by nearly one-fifth. Sprout survival fifteen better than before. Arielle posted it neat on the gateboard, her chalk lines sharp, her spectacles glinting in the dawn. A baker’s boy, flour still on his hair, read it aloud without stumbling, his voice clear as pride filled his father’s face. An elder offered his bean-pinch trick, showing how to nip leaves for better growth. Arielle laughed, credited his name on the trick-board, her scholar’s hand steady. The farm hummed, its rhythm a testament to their work, the soil’s secrets laid bare by her ribbons.

Eira’s voice, cold and even, slipped through Lyan’s mind. They begin to believe.

Hestia followed sharp. Belief is currency. This will sell itself.

Cynthia’s sigh was soft and perverse. And all because she writes numbers on a wall. Imagine if she wrote other things...

Lyan ignored her, his scarred fingers brushing dirt from his trousers as he watched Arielle pin a green ribbon to the soil. But every night, when the sun sank and the firepit’s crackle crackle faded, the camp became their sanctuary, the canvas tent a cocoon of heat and desire. The first night, they piled into the tent, furs soft under bare skin, the lantern casting shadows across their forms. Sigrid led, her muscular frame arched, her blonde ponytail swaying as Lyan’s thing entered her cave with a fierce slap slap, a Slap! Slap! SLAP! that shook the canvas. Her cry was a wild MmmHH! "MY LORD!" her blue eyes blazing, her fingers clawing the furs. Lara’s lips found Lyan’s, a hungry Slrp! drawing a low MmmHH! from his throat, her red braid swaying. Tara’s Slrp! was reverent, her thyme-scented hair brushing his thigh, her brown eyes warm. Arielle watched, her cave throbbing, her fingers trembling as she joined, her lips brushing Lyan’s with a shy Slrp!, her MmmHH! a soft spark.

The second night, the tent pulsed again, the slap slap of Lyan and Lara’s fierce rhythm a storm, her MmmHH! "CHIEF HUSBAND!" echoing as her freckled skin flushed, her green eyes rolling back. Sigrid’s Slrp! was fierce, her lips claiming Lyan’s, while Tara’s Slrp! teased his jewels, her MmmHH! a soft hymn. Arielle’s Slrp! joined, her spectacles fogging, her cave aching as she pressed closer, her MmmHH! weaving into their fire. The third night, Tara’s fair frame yielded, her MmmHH! "ROUGHER!" a doe’s bleat turned primal, the slap slap relentless, Sigrid and Lara’s Slrp!

a chorus, Arielle’s Slrp! bolder, her confidence growing.

By the fourth day, Lyan began building. His acid ants hauled timbers, their tick tick a steady hum as he hammered planks into a frame, sweat beading on his scarred brow. The tent came down, replaced by a wooden house, its walls rising sturdy under the pines. The fifth night, they christened the sleeping loft, the slap slap of Lyan and Sigrid’s passion marking the new boards, her MmmHH! "HARDER!" shaking the rafters, Lara and Tara’s Slrp! a fervent dance, Arielle’s Slrp! now sure, her cave throbbing as she joined, her MmmHH! a spark that lit the loft.

The sixth night, the kitchen bore witness, Lyan lifting Tara onto the rough table, her thyme-scented hair splayed, her MmmHH! "YES!" a wild cry as the slap slap echoed, the Slap! Slap! SLAP! a storm against the wood. Sigrid’s Slrp! was hungry, Lara’s Slrp! mischievous, Arielle’s Slrp! fierce, her spectacles slipping as she kissed Lyan, her MmmHH! a vow. Every corner of the house—the hearth, the doorway, the loft—became a canvas for their fire, the slap slap and Slrp! a daily ritual, their cries of MmmHH! weaving a tapestry of desire that bound them as one.

On the seventh day, dawn spilled gently, the wooden house glowing with morning light, its walls warm with the memory of their passion. Arielle woke early, her soft frame curled in the loft, her spectacles fogged from sleep, her cave still humming from the previous night. A soft MmmHH! pierced the quiet, followed by a wet Slrp!, then a rhythmic slap slap that sent a jolt through her core. She sat up, her tunic clinging damply, and peeked through the loft’s window, her cheeks flushing as she saw them outside, against the house’s exterior wall.

Lara stood, her lean frame pressed against the wood, her red braid swaying, her green eyes blazing with hunger. Lyan lifted her, his scarred hands firm, his thing entering her cave with a forceful slap slap, a Slap! Slap! SLAP! that echoed through the pines. Lara’s cry was a wild MmmHH! "CHIEF HUSBAND!" her freckled skin flushed, her hands gripping his shoulders. Their lips met in a fierce Slrp!, a hungry rhythm that drew a low MmmHH!

from Lyan’s throat, her green eyes rolling back as the slap slap intensified, the Slap! SLAP! a storm against the wall. Arielle watched, her cave throbbing, but no longer shy—she slid from the loft, her tunic creaking, and stepped outside, casually sitting on a stump, her spectacles glinting as she observed, her lips curving in a confident smile.

Lara’s moans peaked, a raw MmmHH! "FILL ME!" that shook the air, her lean frame shuddering as her cave clenched around Lyan’s thing, her belly swelling slightly as the slap slap stilled. She slumped against the wall, her green eyes fluttering, her freckled nose crinkling as she murmured, "Heavens... Chief Husband..." before passing out, her bare form glistening in the dawn, a blissful smile on her lips. Lyan’s scar glinted, his dark eyes warm as he caught his breath, his thing still proud.

Arielle stood, her soft frame radiant in the morning light, her arms spreading wide. "My turn, please," she said, her voice steady, no longer a scholar’s whisper but a warrior’s plea, her spectacles glinting with intent. Lyan’s half-smile broadened, his dark eyes blazing as he approached, his voice a low rumble. "Yes, of course." He closed the distance, his scarred hands brushing her hips, and their lips met in a fervent Slrp!, a kiss that drowned out the dawn, her MmmHH! a soft spark that wove into his low MmmHH!.

The kiss deepened, a storm of Slrp! Slrp! that set her nerves alight, her cave throbbing as Lyan lifted her against the wall, her tunic riding up, her soft frame yielding. His thing entered her cave with a deep slap slap, a Slap! Slap! SLAP! that echoed like thunder, her cry a wild MmmHH! "MY LORD!" Her hands gripped his shoulders, her spectacles slipping as her eyes fluttered, the slap slap relentless, the Slap! SLAP! a storm that seared her core. The Slrp! of their kisses was a fervent dance, her MmmHH! weaving with his, her cave stretching to hold his huge thing, its size a shock that sent sparks through her nerves.

"Harder!" Arielle roared, her voice a scholar’s hymn turned primal, her soft frame arching against the wall, the slap slap a storm of Slap! SLAP! SLAP! that shook the wooden house. Lyan’s thrusts grew fiercer, his MmmHH! a low rumble, their Slrp! a hungry rhythm that drowned out all else. Arielle’s moans peaked, a raw MmmHH! "FILL ME!" that tore through the dawn, her cave clenching around his thing, her belly swelling slightly as the slap slap stilled, her breath a ragged gasp, her spectacles fogging as she slumped against him, her MmmHH! a soft echo of bliss.

Lyan held her close, his lips brushing hers in a gentle Slrp!, his MmmHH! a quiet vow as he lowered her to the grass, her soft frame trembling, her cave overflowing with his seed, her eyes fluttering in a haze of ecstasy. Lara stirred nearby, her green eyes half-open, her freckled skin flushed, her own cave glistening with Lyan’s gift, her blissful smile mirroring Arielle’s. The wooden house stood witness, its walls marked by their daily fire, every plank a testament to their bond.

Inside, the scent of fresh bread and herbs wafted from the kitchen, Lyan’s hands deft as he tended a skillet over the hearth, his scar glinting in the morning light. Sigrid and Tara stirred in the loft, their bare forms stretching as they descended, their noses catching the warm aroma. "Sorry for waking late," Sigrid grumbled, her blonde ponytail swaying, her blue eyes bleary but warm. Tara’s brown eyes softened, her thyme-scented hair splayed as she yawned. "Breakfast smells great," she murmured, her fair cheeks flushing as she stepped into the kitchen.

But their eyes widened, spotting Arielle and Lara sprawled outside, their bare forms glistening, their caves overflowing with Lyan’s seed, their faces lost in blissful haze. Sigrid’s blue eyes flashed, her laugh a booming ha ha. "That’s unfair!" she shouted, her muscular frame taut with mock outrage. Tara’s brown eyes sparkled, her fair hands on her hips. "Unfair!" she echoed, her voice a playful spark, her thyme-scented hair swaying as she grinned.

Lyan’s half-smile glinted, his dark eyes warm as he flipped a loaf onto a platter. "Plenty for all," he said, his voice a low rumble, the wooden house glowing with the heat of their bond, its walls a silent witness to their fire. Arielle’s lips curved, her spectacles fogging as she lay in the grass, Lara’s freckled hand brushing hers, their laughter weaving with Sigrid and Tara’s shouts, a chorus of love and fire that would burn through any dawn.