CHAPTER 164: CHAPTER 163: FROM BED TO BLADE (R18)

He slid into her again with a deep thrust that made her entire body jolt. The new angle let him reach deeper, press harder, and he didn’t relent. His hips slammed into hers with a punishing rhythm, relentless and hungry. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, raw and unfiltered.

Her cries were high, broken, filled with pleasure. She clawed at the sheets, overwhelmed.

He leaned forward, folding her further beneath him, and kissed her, ravenous, consuming. His mouth devoured hers between thrusts. Each kiss felt like a claim, each motion like dominance made flesh.

When he drew back, his mouth found her ear. He licked the pointed tip slowly, deliberately.

She screamed.

Her back arched, body wracked by waves of pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, nearly sending him over the edge.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out slowly, then flipped her again.

Now she was on all fours, her arms shaky, her hair plastered to her back. She looked back at him, eyes glazed with lust and defiance. Her ass rose toward him, an open invitation.

"So eager... You love being taken like this, don’t you?"

He entered her again with one brutal thrust.

She cried out, hands gripping the headboard.

He gripped her hips tightly, setting a brutal rhythm that made the bed creak under them. The wet sound of their joining filled the room alongside her moans, shameless, melodic, needy.

Her voice trembled, her body rocked with every thrust. "Harder..." she whispered. "Don’t stop..."

He didn’t.

They moved through the night like storm and flame, changing rhythm, changing pace, but never stopping. He took her on her back, her side, her knees, even lifting her against the cold stone wall where she wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails raking down his shoulders as he drove into her.

She rode him again, her pace frantic, her voice lost in whimpers and gasps as she chased her peak. He held her by the waist, guiding her movements, watching her unravel every time she came undone above him.

At one point, she lay draped over him, utterly spent, and he still rolled her over again, drawing more cries from her lips, more tremors from her soaked, sensitive body.

The fire dwindled to embers.

Their bodies gleamed with sweat, breaths shallow and uneven. But still, they moved. Still, they joined. As though night itself couldn’t contain the hunger they had for each other.

And when morning’s first light finally pierced the shutters, Aurelya lay atop him, her skin warm, marked with bites and kisses, her golden hair tangled around them both.

Neither spoke.

There were no words left.

Only the weight of their bodies, the ache of spent passion, and the quiet hum of satisfaction humming between their still-joined forms.

....

After a few hours of tangled sleep and shared warmth beneath the rumpled sheets, the quiet hush of morning stirred them gently awake.

The sun slipped through the shutters in soft golden beams, catching on Aurelya’s tousled hair as she stretched beside him. Her legs brushed his beneath the covers, and she turned toward him, her bare skin glowing in the light. There was no hunger in her now, only contentment. A kind of peace that felt fragile, like a dream they weren’t ready to leave.

They didn’t speak.

Words would’ve broken the spell.

Instead, they rose together and made their way to the adjoining bath, a stone-lined chamber where steam curled in the air and warm water awaited.

Lumberling stepped in first, sinking into the heat with a soft grunt, the ache in his muscles making itself known. Aurelya followed, easing into the water with a sigh, her golden hair cascading down her back, trailing across the surface like silk.

She settled between his legs, her back against his chest. His arms came around her instinctively, pulling her close. Their skin, slick from the water, pressed together without urgency.

She tilted her head back against his shoulder, exposing her throat, and he kissed her there, soft, idle.

The water lapped gently around them, the only sound aside from the occasional bird call from outside the stone walls.

Aurelya giggled suddenly, low and breathy. "You really didn’t hold back last night..."

Lumberling’s hand slid down to rest on her thigh, squeezing lightly. "You didn’t ask me to."

She smirked, her golden eyes shining as she turned slightly to look at him. "I know."

She leaned her head back again, resting in his arms. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his forearm, lazily, affectionately.

"I want this," she murmured. "This feeling... to last. Just like this. Just you and me."

There was no need for him to reply. His arms around her said enough.

Outside, the morning sun rose higher.

But inside the bath, time slowed, suspended in warmth, quiet, and the lingering pulse of shared desire finally eased into something gentler.

....

Training Grounds – Midmorning

The sun was already high, casting dappled light through the tall trees lining the practice yard. Spears clashed in the distance, wooden blades echoed off shields, but in one quiet corner, the four of them gathered.

Lumberling rolled his shoulders, rotating his spear as he stepped into stance. Aurelya stretched beside him, dressed in a sleeveless tunic that did nothing to hide the faint purplish marks peeking from her collarbone.

Thessalia spotted them first.

Her eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with that same calculating precision she used when studying footwork. "So," she said coolly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did a monster claw at your neck last night, Aurelya? Or is that just an unusually aggressive mosquito?"

Aurelya didn’t flinch. She smirked as she gathered her golden hair and tied it into a high ponytail, deliberately angling her head to make the reddish mark on her neck all the more visible.

"Not a monster," she said, lips curling. "But he did bite."

Vaenyra’s expression tightened. She brushed a strand of blue hair behind one ear, her emerald eyes cool as they flicked toward Lumberling.

"And here I thought you were the disciplined one," she said, her voice clipped and frosty.

Lumberling adjusted his grip on his spear. "Maybe you’d understand if you gave it a try," he said lightly, too lightly.

But the sudden spike in Vaenyra’s aura, made him shut his mouth before the smile could settle.

"Try not to die later, alright?" Thessalia said with a pleasant smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "But don’t worry, we’ve got healers. A few broken bones are nothing." She chuckled as she nocked an arrow.

Lumberling cast her a sideways look. "If you’re all this jealous, just admit it already."

"You’re dead," Vaenyra whispered.

And then she moved.

The air cracked as she lunged, blade flashing toward his throat. The sparring ground lit up with killing intent barely leashed, steel kissing steel as the dance began.