CHAPTER 39: BEFORE CAMP

Mira sat off to the side, her own plate long empty. She watched them—Eren and Velira—eating slowly, languidly, their exhaustion still clinging to their movements. The aftermath of their earlier indulgence.

Mira exhaled softly, her gaze flicking to Eren—then downward. The bulge beneath the towel he wore shifted gently with each motion, blissfully unaware of her watching eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek, her breath catching. In bed, it was fine, she reminded herself. There, it was all shadows and heat and muffled groans. But here, in the kitchen, in the soft domestic quiet of morning... she was his aunt. A role. A figure of maturity. To look at him like this, to want like this, felt filthy. What if he thought she was nothing more than a desperate, aging woman trying to keep up? What if—

Her eyes stayed fixed, almost drilling through the fabric. A pulse trembled through her lips and onto her trembling thighs—subtle, yet undeniable.

Her head dipped, vision blurred in the haze of her own heat and shame.

"Mira?" Eren’s voice cut through the fog, gentle but alertive. She barely noticed his hand on her arm until he was lifting her slightly. "Are you alright?"

"I—!" she gasped, panic flaring in her eyes. And that’s when she saw it—just for a second—the towel parting, the head of him slipping into view. Her breath caught completely by the flaring heat inside.

She jerked back, cheeks flaring crimson as she sat quickly down again, fixing her gaze forward. Straight onto Velira, who slowly chewed her stew, eyes distant. Lost in her own thoughts, maybe.

Mira could only sigh, soft and broken.

"Haa... Why do I...?"

She exhaled deeply, steadying herself, as her eyes rose—hesitantly—from Eren’s thigh up to his face. Her fingers curled into her palm, summoning courage. Then, with a quiet, self-affirming "Mm," she leaned in.

Her lips hovered close to his ear, breath warm against his skin, and in a hushed whisper, she spoke.

"Eren..."

He jolted slightly, caught off guard by her voice so close—his body reacting on instinct as he turned toward her, lips parting, about to speak—

But Mira reached forward and gently closed his mouth with her fingers, her touch tender but heavy with intent. Her gaze locked on his, unflinching.

Her voice dropped, as she spoke. "Would you... I mean..."

She hesitated, swallowing, her breath shaky. Then she continued—barely above a whisper:

"Complete that promise from this morning...?"

Eren blinked, clearly puzzled. He searched her expression, brow furrowed slightly.

"Promise...?" he asked, voice soft. "What promise?"

Mira gave a small nod, eyes lowered, her voice barely audible. "About... that ’doing anything’ thing..."

Eren paused, then his expression shifted—faint recognition dawning. Ah. The morning promise.

He gave a soft chuckle, almost reflexive, and turned back to his bowl. His voice dropped just a little, low enough to meet her tone.

"Sure, Aunt Mira. Anytime. A promise is a promise."

He lifted another spoonful of stew to his lips, chewing casually, then asked between bites, "So... what do you need?"

Mira hesitated for a moment, the heat crawling up her neck, then finally whispered:

"Could I... go down?"

Eren blinked, momentarily confused.

Go down? The words echoed in his mind. Why would she need to ask me that?

His thoughts stirred, vague implications rising, but he didn’t voice them. Instead, he simply nodded, setting the spoon down gently.

"Alright," he said slowly. "It’s your house."

Mira blinked—just briefly—confused by his last words. "It’s your house." But she took it as affirmation.

With a soft breath, she lifted the loose gown she’d slipped into after the bath. The hem swayed as she moved, discreetly slipping under the table—keeping her movements quiet, careful to shield her head. Velira, still lost in her own haze, didn’t stir.

Underneath, the whole view changed.

Mira sighed, her chest rising with a trembling flutter. She pressed a palm to her heart, trying to still its anxious rhythm. Alright, she whispered to herself. Her eyes lit with a quiet, burning resolve as she gave her cheeks a soft, determined pat.

Just ahead of her—Velira’s thighs. Slightly parted. The towel wrapped loosely around her waist left little to the imagination, and above it, she wore only a bra. Mira quickly turned her gaze away—not what I came under here for.

She shifted her attention to Eren.

He sat only inches away, inclined to his chair, dressed in nothing but a towel lazily slung across his hips. Her gaze dropped between his legs—and her breath caught.

There, hanging heavily between his thighs, were his balls—big—yet, soft and full, relaxed from the earlier act.

And above them... it rested.

A thick, sleeping beast. Spent. Yet still impressive.

Half-sheathed but exposed at the tip, lay his cock—resting, twitching gently with each of his slow breaths. It wasn’t fully hard, not like this morning, but even in its resting state, it was... massive. Thick. The flushed pink head protruded from the skin, bold and brazen, gently bobbing with his movements.

Mira’s cheeks flushed. Her lips parted.

The heat within her surged again, and she crawled forward, hands reaching.

Her fingers slid along the towel, inching it aside.

Eren flinched, puzzled, his head tilting down in confusion.

Her head lowered.

"Go down..." Did she mean—this? The realization hit a moment too late.

Her mouth was already on him.

Eren jerked slightly, a sharp hiss caught between his teeth. His body stiffened as Mira’s lips worked down his length, tongue swirling in hot, patient spirals. Her hands trembled beneath the table, one bracing against his thigh, the other disappearing beneath her gown, finding her slick folds, as she moved in rhythm—slow, devoted to her need, and yet—relentless.

But as Mira’s rythm relentlessly worked on Eren—

Velira stirred.

The clink of a spoon stopped. Her posture shifted upright, her daze breaking.

"Well, mm? Where’s Mira?" she asked aloud, voice lazy but curious "Kitchen already? Let me wash it for once."

Eren’s eyes unfocused.

Velira’s sudden voice struck Eren like a jolt—whether she’d want an in too.

Meanwhile, beneath the table—Mira froze mid-motion—lips still wrapped around him—as her teeth accidentally grazed his sensitive tip.

And that—That was all it took.

Eren shuddered violently, his breath catching as a low grunt escaped. He’d already been on the edge since morning—his body strained, his cock pushed past its limits since last evening, already drained and milked more times than he could count—this final touch sent him over. Again.

Thick pulses surged forth, his body betraying him in seconds. The BJ lasting only a few moment this time—far shorter than last. Whether it was Mira’s relentless mouth-game—upping... or simply that his cock had been under overworked since the previous evening... he couldn’t say.

Only—his release surged in short, desperate pulses, spilling onto Mira’s lips, her tongue, cheeks. It wasn’t even a minute in, but his body gave out fast—milk drained from overuse and overstimulation.

Meanwhile, Mira didn’t pull. She held her mouth—tight, letting him spill across her—her mouth now, wet with her own, as well as Eren’s liquid, passed a faint streak of white curling from the corner of her lips, dripping lazily past her chin.

Velira watched him—eyes narrowing as she caught the shift in his expression: the sudden tension, the quiver in his jaw, the twitch in his thigh, the dazed blink of someone utterly spent.

Then she smirked.

Her earlier boredom or fatigue melted into something else. In its place, amusement—and something mischevious—glinted in her eyes. She leaned slightly, peering underneath the table.

And there—half-shadowed beneath the wood—she found—Mira. Lips still parted around Eren’s cock, sliding slowly back down as the remnants of his climax slicked her face. The sight was obscene, raw, and arousing.

Velira tilted her head, smiling wider.

"Well," she murmured, voice smooth. "Looks like someone beat me to dessert."

Velira smirked—eyes glinting—as Mira slowly lifted her gaze. Their eyes met.

Something unspoken passed between them. A shared understanding.

Mira hastily pulled away, lips still slick with remnants of white, her throat working hard as she swallowed. She tried to speak, flustered. "No, I—Velira, it’s not what—"

But before she could finish, she bumped her head against the underside of the table with a sharp thunk.

"Ouch..." she winced, rising awkwardly from the side, cheeks flushed red—though whether from pain, embarrassment, or arousal, even she wasn’t sure.

Velira didn’t blink.

She stepped close and placed a hand gently on Mira’s shoulder, tapping it twice, her grin widening.

"Everyone needs it once, Mira," she said smoothly. "At least once."

Mira opened her mouth, ready to explain—but Velira wasn’t done.

"And for women like us..." Her gaze drifted over to Eren, who sat there breathless, his towel barely clinging, chest rising and falling. "Women who didn’t get to do it for most of our lives... who never got the chance to really experience it?"

She winked.

"Well, it should be at least ten times a day."

Mira’s breath caught. Her lips parted. Her chin was still glazed faintly with white—streaked now with the pink hue of her own flush. She looked down, unsure whether to be embarassed, or continue.

Velira turned, humming softly as she picked up the plates and headed toward the kitchen. Before disappearing behind the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder, flashing a cheeky grin.

"Go on."

Then she vanished behind the walls.

Mira stood frozen, staring after her. Then, slowly, her eyes drifted back to Eren.

He looked up at her, face still red, trying to catch his breath—half-pleading, half-panicked.

"M-Mira—Aunt Mira... Maybe after the meeting? After we see Alayne?"

His voice cracked slightly, desperate to preserve what little stamina he had left. The dread of being milked dry before noon was real in his eyes.