CHAPTER 536: SCHEMES AND CELEBRATION (4)

The steam curled denser, a golden shroud that wove their breaths into a single pulse, the bath chamber a crucible where desire burned brighter than the candle’s flame. Their tongues, still dancing, carried a lingering fire, each touch a note in a song that refused to end. "Slrp! MMH!" The sounds, wet and fervent, filled the air, a chorus of want and surrender. Josephine’s tongue tangled with Arielle’s, a playful duel that sparked laughter—"AAHH!"—before their lips parted, breathless, eyes gleaming with shared mischief. Wilhelmina, quieter but no less fierce, kissed Lyan’s lips, her tongue tracing his with a slow, searing heat—"MM..."—that sent his heart pounding, a drumbeat against the marble. Arielle joined, her tongue gliding into the rhythm—"slrp!"—sealing their bond in the haze, a vow written in breath and touch.

The rhythm surged, a tide that swept them deeper into the heat. Lyan’s hands, steady but trembling with want, guided Arielle’s hips as she straddled him once more, her warmth tight and pulsing, drawing him toward the edge. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her body rocking with a desperate need. "PLEASE... MORE!" she cried, her voice a raw plea that echoed in the steam. His lips found hers, muffling the sound, his tongue sucking at hers with a fierce hunger—"slrp! MNH!"—as he moved with her, each thrust a pulse that matched her rhythm. Her nails dug into his shoulders, her moans growing louder—"MMHHH!!!"—as the wave built, a crest of heat that threatened to break.

Then it came, a searing bloom of warmth as he unleashed inside her, a flood that filled her core with a liquid fire. Her cry—"MMHHH!!!!"—tore from her throat, raw and unbridled, only to be swallowed by his mouth, his tongue devouring hers in a kiss that was all heat and need. "Slrp! AAHH!" The sound of their lips, wet and desperate, mingled with her trembling gasps as she shuddered against him, her body clenching around the warmth, her release a tide that left her breathless. "It’s alright..." Lyan whispered, his voice a soft anchor, his hand stroking her back as she collapsed against his chest, her breath ragged but content.

Josephine, never one to wait, tugged at his arm, her grin wicked and hungry. "My turn again," she purred, her voice a spark in the haze as she straddled him, her warmth enveloping him with a bold, unapologetic grip. "MMH! YES!" she moaned, her hips setting a frantic rhythm, her laughter dissolving into gasps as she moved. Lyan kissed her, hard and ravenous, their tongues clashing in a fierce dance—"slrp! MMH!"—that sent heat spiraling through them both. Arielle, still flushed, leaned in, her lips brushing Josephine’s neck, her tongue flicking out—"slrp!"—to draw a shiver from the jester. Wilhelmina, watching with dark eyes, kissed Arielle’s shoulder, her lips a steady fire—"MM..."—that wove into the rhythm.

Josephine’s pace quickened, her moans growing louder—"OH, FUCK! MMHHH!!!"—as she chased the peak, her body tightening around him with a desperate urgency. Lyan’s hands gripped her hips, guiding her as the heat built, a pressure that coiled tighter with each thrust. Then he unleashed again, a warm flood that filled her, a pulse of fire that sent her over the edge. Her cry—"MMHHH!!!!"—was raw, a sound of triumph and surrender, muffled by Lyan’s mouth as he sucked at her tongue, their kiss a devouring dance—"slrp! AAHH!"—that drowned out the world. She trembled, her laughter breathless as she collapsed against him, her voice a shaky giggle. "It’s alright..." he murmured, his hand stroking her hair, grounding her as her breath steadied.

Wilhelmina, her presence a quiet inferno, moved with a commander’s precision, straddling him with an intensity that burned like a banked fire. "Your turn," Lyan said, his voice rough with want but gentle, his hands steady at her hips. She nodded, her lips finding his in a kiss that was both command and plea—"MM..."—her tongue tracing his with a slow, deliberate heat that made his heart stutter. "Slrp!" Her movements were measured, each one a step in a rhythm she set, her warmth taking him in with a quiet certainty that left him breathless.

Arielle and Josephine, still flushed from their own releases, kissed Wilhelmina’s shoulders, her neck, their lips leaving trails of fire. "Slrp! MNH!" Their tongues met her skin, drawing soft sighs—"AAHH!"—from the commander as she moved against Lyan, her breath quickening. Her moans grew, soft at first, then louder—"MNH... MMHHH!!!"—as the wave built, her body trembling with the intensity of her need. Lyan’s lips found hers, muffling the cry as he unleashed inside her, a warm flood that filled her core with a searing truth. Her scream—"MMHHH!!!!"—was swallowed by his mouth, his tongue sucking at hers in a fierce, devouring dance—"slrp! MMH!"—that left them both trembling. "It’s alright..." he whispered, his voice a quiet tether, holding her through the aftershocks as her body quaked, her forehead resting against his.

The steam draped them like a cloak, their bodies a tangle of limbs and breath, the candlelight casting gold across sweat-slicked skin. Their kisses continued, a fervent weave of lips and tongues, each touch a note in a song that burned with passion. Josephine nipped at Lyan’s ear, a playful "slrp!" that made him chuckle, then kissed Arielle’s cheek, her tongue flicking out—"MNH!"—to tease a laugh from the scholar. Arielle, emboldened, kissed Wilhelmina’s shoulder, her lips soft and reverent—"MMH!"—drawing a rare, quiet smile from the commander. Wilhelmina, in turn, kissed Lyan’s temple, her tongue brushing the skin—"slrp!"—a gesture that felt like a vow renewed.

Their tongues played, a fierce and passionate dance, each clash a spark that kept the fire alive. "Slrp! MMHHH!" Josephine’s tongue tangled with Arielle’s, their laughter mingling—"AAHH!"—as they broke apart, breathless, their eyes gleaming with shared delight. Wilhelmina, quieter but no less intense, kissed Lyan’s lips, her tongue tracing his with a slow, searing heat—"MM..."—that made his heart pound. Arielle joined, her tongue gliding into the rhythm—"slrp!"—sealing their bond in a kiss that was both tender and ravenous.

The heat lingered, a pulse that bound them in the quiet. Josephine sprawled across Lyan’s chest, her laughter soft and drowsy, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his collarbone. "That was... so godly good..." she murmured, her voice a lazy grin, her lips brushing his shoulder in a soft "mmh." Arielle, tucked against his side, kissed the crescent mark she’d left on his shoulder, her lips lingering—"MNH!"—her breath a contented sigh. Wilhelmina, her cheek against his, pressed a final kiss to his jaw—"MM..."—her hand resting over his heart, counting its steady beat.

The ember’s glow flickered, casting gold across their skin, a silent witness to their shared fire. The Brake Choir hummed, a lullaby for a moment earned, its vibration weaving through the steam. The slot, the bath, the world outside—it all faded, leaving only the rhythm of their breath, the warmth of their touch. "Later," Lyan whispered, the word a promise they all held close, their foreheads touching in the quiet.

_____

Morning light pried through the curtains in thin, stubborn lines, stripes of gold laying across skin and tangled sheets. Grafen woke slowly beyond the balcony—rooster calls from the lower quarter, the first hammer ringing from the smithy, a cartwheel bumping a loose cobble and a muffled curse. Closer, the chamber smelled of last night’s bath steam turned to soft humidity, dried wine on wood, and the faintest trace of Arielle’s lavender ink.

Lyan blinked into the brightness. A weight pressed across his ribs—Josephine’s thigh, warm and heedless. Another weight draped his shoulder—Wilhelmina’s forearm, still and strangely gentle for a woman who slept like a drawn bow. Arielle’s hair made a silvery fan over his chest, tickling his collarbone when she breathed.

On the nightstand, a single red seal winked in the slant of sun.

He stretched carefully, elbow by elbow, so as not to trigger Wilhelmina’s instincts. His fingertips reached, grazed wax, nudged the letter closer. The seal cracked with a quiet pop that felt disrespectfully loud in the hush.

Inside, Erich’s handwriting strode across the page like a man walking too fast in boots he hadn’t broken in.

Still alive or already buried under a pile of women? In any case, your reward is coming. Treasury is slow. Logistics are boring. Don’t die before it arrives.

—Erich.

He snorted softly. "Cheeky bastard."

Josephine shifted but didn’t wake. Her mouth smudged his shoulder with a sleep-heavy kiss and promptly missed. A damp "mmf" and she was out again. Arielle made a small sound—half question, half content—and tucked closer, as if the letter were a draft and she could sign it by osmosis.

Wilhelmina’s lashes twitched. She opened one eye the way a sentry cracks a visor. "They’re stalling," she said in a voice that had already done the math. "Probably broke."

He held the letter so she could see. "He says it’s coming."

"And when has ’coming’ ever been a precise date?" she asked, closing her eye again. "We’ll prepare as if it isn’t."

Arielle’s hand slid across his stomach, found the edge of the parchment, and borrowed it without quite sitting up. She read, eyes moving quick, lips shaping silent numbers. One eye opened at him above the page. "We should sell from the vault. Quietly. I’ve already calculated three safe black market contacts."

He stared. "You terrify me before breakfast."

She considered this, then allowed the ghost of a smile. "But you love me."

Josephine rolled onto her back, hair everywhere, ribbons long since surrendered. "Speak for yourself," she yawned. "I adore you. I plan to monetize you. Different verbs, same church." She reached, pinched the letter between two fingers, and pulled it close enough to squint. "Ugh, he writes like a man flirting with his own signature."