Chapter 415 - 414- What about Olivia?
Her crimson eyes were already half-lidded, the red beginning to bleed toward that telltale heart-shape she would deny until her last breath, and Viktor’s tail — newly freed from Bella’s breast — circled her waist and held.
’PAH. PAH. PAH.’
"’Hngh~!! Ungh~!! HAAHN~!!’"
"I thought you were going to maintain dignity," Viktor said, his hips never slowing.
"I ’am’—" Her voice cracked. "’Maintaining—’"
’PAAAH—’
"’AAANGHH~!!!!’"
The heart-shapes blazed in her eyes, brilliant crimson-red, before she pressed her face against the stone and refused to let anyone see them.
Her walls clenched down on him with the grip of a warrior’s body that had been waiting too long. Viktor felt the pressure of it — real pressure, the specific tightness of Kaida that had made him curse out loud the first time and had never entirely stopped making him notice — and his hands tightened on her hips.
Then — his right hip angled, shifted, fractionally wrong.
The resistance changed.
"’—WAIT—’"
Viktor stopped.
The silence was immediate. Kaida’s voice had been one note, one sharp crack of genuine alarm, and something in it was different from all the others.
"’That’s—’" Her voice was strained. "That is— Viktor, that is not— you’ve found the ’’wrong—’’"
"Ah," Viktor said.
"’’Ah’?!’"
"That’s why it was so tight." He said it with perfect composure. Observationally. As if he’d noted interesting weather.
"’GET OUT—’"
"—I thought—"
"’’OUT,’’ Viktor—!!’ I will actually shoot you with my bow—’" She was breathing hard, the warrior’s control disintegrating into something that was half mortification and half tears, her crimson eyes blazing. "You— you went in the ’’wrong one’’—"
"You clenched," Viktor said, as if this were relevant.
"Because you— you—" Words appeared to fail her. She pressed her forehead to the stone. One thin sound escaped her that was not quite a sob and not quite a moan and was entirely Kaida’s own private business that she would be filing away never to speak of again.
Viktor withdrew. Repositioned. Found the right place with the specific care of a man who understood the difference between a moment and a mistake.
"Ready?" he said.
"’I despise you,’" Kaida said, into the stone.
"Ready," Viktor decided for her.
He pushed in.
"’Hnn~—’" The sound she made was soft and relieved and real. Her shoulders dropped. The tension ran out of her spine. "’There,’" she said again, very quietly this time. "’That’s.’"
He moved. Slow, then steady, then with purpose.
’Pah. Pah.’
"’Mnngh~. Ahnn~.’"
His tail pat her ass lightly. Once. The slap sound rang off the water’s surface.
"’Hngh!’" She startled.
He did it again. Flat, open-palmed, the sound of it resonant.
’Smack.’
"’Viktor—’"
’Smack.’
"’Stop—’"
The heart-shapes were fully out now. She’d given up hiding them. Her crimson eyes had gone soft and blazing and completely committed, and her hips were rolling back against him with the rhythm of a body that had entirely bypassed its owner’s authority.
’PAH. PAH. PAAAH—’
"’Oungh~!! AAAHNN~!! HIEKK~!!!!’"
Helena had made her way back to him. She always made her way back. It was a law of the garden, like the flowers blooming and the water staying warm. She appeared at his side between Kaida’s shuddering aftermath and the next breath, her hands sliding up his back, her pregnant belly pressing soft against his ribs.
"Young Master," she murmured. Not asking. Just saying.
Viktor reached back and gripped her thigh. Pulled her around to his front. She came willingly, her heavy breasts pressing against his chest, her face tilting up with the open warmth of a woman who had stopped performing devotion because the real thing was simpler.
"Where do you want—"
"Here," she said. She wrapped her legs around his waist in the water. Her belly bumped his abs. Her brown eyes were steady. "Like this. With me ’here.’"
Viktor pushed in from below, angling up, finding the angle that made her—
"’Haaahnn~—’" Helena’s head fell back, her brown hair spreading across the water. Her lactating breasts pressed fully against him, warm and heavy and already leaking, the white dissolving into the pond in thin trails. Her fingers spread on his shoulder blades. She held him. Just held him, her whole body gathered around him like warmth made physical. "Young Master—" The words were barely sound. "’Don’t— leave— yet.’"
"I’m not going anywhere," Viktor said.
"Not the capital. I know." Her eyes found his again, soft and certain. "I mean— right now. Don’t— ’move’— right now. Let me feel this."
He stilled.
The water settled around them. The garden breathed. Rustina’s pink glow throbbed gently at the edge, slow and reverent.
Viktor’s hand moved to Helena’s belly. Both of them stayed like that for three seconds that had no tactical value and were therefore worth something different.
Then he moved.
’Pah.’
"’Ahnn~.’"
’PAH.’
"’Hngh~!’"
’PAAAH—’
"’HAAHN~—!!’"
Mira watched this from four feet away. Her green eyes were doing the thing they did when she was watching something she’d planned and was satisfied with how the plan was going, but the satisfaction had other things mixed into it that weren’t satisfaction — or weren’t ’only’ satisfaction — and she’d stopped pretending otherwise around the third time Helena made that sound.
She waded forward.
Her hand touched Viktor’s arm. He glanced at her. She looked at his face for a moment, the sharp calculating green of her eyes doing something else entirely.
"You’re going to run out of energy," she said.
"No I’m not."
"You might."
"Mira."
"...Come here." She pulled his mouth to hers. Brief. Blunt. The kiss of a woman who had decided something and wasn’t going to dress it up. She tasted like the water and something underneath that was entirely her own. When she pulled back her green eyes were steady. "Don’t make me ask for things."
"You’re asking."
"I’m ’telling.’"
His hand found her hip under the water.
She made a sound that wasn’t a word.
Time moved differently in the garden. The light shifted. The steam off the water thinned and returned. Rusty’s purple glow had deepened to something near-violet, pulsing with the slow beat of accumulated energy, his mass swollen and luminous. Rustina was a solid pink beacon, bouncing in tight fast oscillations, almost vibrating.
The air was dense with something that wasn’t smell and wasn’t sound but was both.
Viktor had moved through all of them twice. Helena once and now again, Mira in the deep middle of the pond with the water at her chest and her green eyes blazing, Bella twice more in her preferred position of absolutely refusing to stay still and climbing him like he was a tree she’d decided was hers, Elara with the succubus edge and the heart-eyes and the tail coiling around his wrist. Kaida — who had briefly retrieved her warrior’s composure, marched to the edge of the pond, reconsidered, and marched back. The tail had visited more than one wrong place. Each time had produced approximately the same sequence: a sharp cry, a stammered protest, Viktor’s flat observation about tightness, and then violence. He had three sets of claw marks healing on his back and one bite on his shoulder that Bella had done to apologize for biting him the first time.
He had cum four times. Four distinct releases, each absorbed completely into whatever wife had received it, his seed vanishing into their bodies like water into earth. The pond remained clear. His cock, thanks to the god of fertility’s very specific gift, had remained ready.
He was not tired.
He was, by every available measurement, far from done.
"What about Olivia."