Chapter 425 - 424- What Kind of Elf Allows That?
Gwen’s moan rolled out of him like thunder wrapped in velvet—low, hungry, and utterly unashamed—as his big hands clamped onto the soaked curve of Gwen’s waist.
He yanked her forward through the chest-deep water, slamming her lithe elven body against the hard wall of his chest with a wet slap that sent ripples racing across the pond.
"Mmmph—!" Gwen’s protest died the instant his mouth claimed hers.
His lips were hot, insistent, parting hers with zero hesitation. The French kiss was deep, filthy, perfect. His tongue slid in, stroking hers in slow, possessive laps while he sucked first her upper lip, then the lower, tugging it between his teeth with a wet pop before diving back in. Water streamed down their joined faces. Her silver-blonde hair clung to her cheeks like wet silk.
’You bastard,’ she screamed inside her skull. ’You absolute, manipulative, tail-wearing bastard—’
But her body betrayed her. Her knees buckled. Her pointed ears flushed crimson to the tips. Her eyes fluttered, then rolled back as another helpless little "Mmmnnnphhh~~!!!" vibrated against his tongue. He tasted like forest rain and raw male hunger, and gods help her, it was ’good’. Too good.
From the ring of trees, twelve pairs of eyes widened in stunned silence.
The bandits—ten women, two men, all hardened by months of ruling Viscount Harfield’s crumbling territory—had gone completely still. Since the viscount’s death, the mistress had been weak, the patrols lazy, the taxes easy to dodge. They’d grown bold. But this? This was not on any map of expected prey.
A naked man—broad-shouldered, scarred, the strange purple-black incubus mark glowing faintly just above his groin—openly devouring an elf woman in broad daylight. In ’their’ pond.
And that tail. Thick, scaled, dark, wrapped twice around his own waist like a living belt, the tip flicking lazily against his hip.
One of the younger bandit women, crouched behind a mossy oak with her bow half-drawn, felt her throat go dry. ’Elves don’t... they don’t kiss humans like that. Not in public. Not like they’re starving for it.’ Her cheeks burned.
Beside her, the bandit leader—Captain Lira, red-haired, scarred jaw, tight leather vest straining over generous breasts—breathed out a shaky, "What the actual fuck..."
Viktor’s hands slid upward, greedy. He palmed Gwen’s heavy breasts through the soaked fabric of her dress and the thin bra beneath, thumbs circling the hardened peaks with expert pressure. The wet cloth made everything obscene: the way her tits filled his hands, the soft jiggle as he kneaded them, the way her nipples poked shamelessly against the clinging material.
Gwen’s back arched involuntarily. "V-Viktor—!" she gasped the second his mouth left hers for a breath.
He didn’t let her finish. He crushed her lips again, sucking her tongue into his mouth while his fingers rolled her nipples harder. Water sloshed around their waists. Her legs trembled.
’You bastard,’ she thought again, but it was weaker now, drowned under the heat pooling low in her belly. ’He kisses like he already owns me...’
The bandits were crimson.
A tall brunette bandit with a scar across her collarbone whispered, barely audible, "Look at how he’s groping her... those tits are bouncing even in the water..." She pressed her thighs together without realizing it.
Another woman, shorter, freckled, gripping her dagger so tight her knuckles whitened, thought, ’His cock... it’s not even hard yet and it’s already so thick. Gods, what is he?’
Viktor broke the kiss with a wet smack, a string of saliva connecting their lips for a heartbeat. Gwen’s chest heaved. Her eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide.
"Wait—stop—" she managed, one hand shoving weakly at his chest. Her voice cracked. "They’re watching, you idiot—!"
He grinned against her mouth, dark eyes flashing violet at the edges. "Good."
In one fluid motion he lifted her, turning her so her back pressed against the submerged stone shelf at the pond’s edge. The water only came to her ribs now. He climbed over her, water cascading off his broad back, his tail unwinding slightly from his waist to brush teasingly along her calf. His cock—fully hard now, thick, veined, the flushed crimson head glistening—stood proud between them.
The bandits saw it at the same moment.
A collective, soft inhale rippled through the trees.
’Holy shit,’ Lira thought, eyes locked on the massive length. ’That thing would split a girl in half... and he’s just... showing it off?’ Her pulse hammered between her legs.
The younger archer whimpered under her breath, "It’s... twitching..."
Viktor caught both of Gwen’s wrists in one large hand and pinned them above her head against the mossy stone. Her legs flailed, splashing, but he simply wedged his hips between her thighs, spreading her open beneath the water. The head of his cock nudged the valley between her breasts, still covered by the soaked dress and bra.
"Come on, love," he murmured, voice rough with lust and amusement. "We need to give them a show without baring your pretty naked body right away, yeah? Let’s keep it classy for our audience."
Gwen’s eyes flew wide. "Viktor, you absolute—!"
He didn’t wait. With his free hand he yanked the neckline of her dress down just enough to expose the top curves of her breasts, then shoved the thin bra cups aside. Her soft, heavy tits spilled out, pale and glistening, nipples tight and rosy. He grabbed them roughly, mashing the plush flesh around his throbbing cock like warm, wet pillows.
The first slow thrust made Gwen cry out.
"Nngh—!"
His thick shaft slid between her cleavage with a slick, obscene sound, the crimson head pushing up until it bumped her chin. He pulled back, then forward again, setting a lazy rhythm. Her breasts jiggled and bounced with every thrust, water droplets flying, the wet fabric of her dress rubbing against her sensitive skin.
"Stop—someone save me—!" Gwen yelped, voice high and humiliated, cheeks burning scarlet. But her hips twitched. Her thighs clenched around his waist.
Viktor groaned, deep and filthy. "Fuck, you feel perfect... so soft... look at them jiggle for me." He squeezed harder, thumbs flicking her nipples as he fucked her tits faster. The head of his cock kissed her chin on every upstroke, leaving a shiny trail of pre-cum across her lips.
She closed her eyes tight, mortified, but a broken little moan slipped out anyway. "Mmm... you... bastard..."
From the trees, the bandits were losing it.
Lira’s mouth hung open. ’He’s titfucking her right in front of us... and she’s moaning. That elf is actually moaning.’ Her own nipples ached against her leather vest. She shifted, ass raised high as she crouched in the tall grass, trying to ignore the slick heat between her legs.
The freckled bandit next to her breathed, "I can hear it... the wet sound... gods, his cock is so red and angry-looking... I wonder what it tastes like..." She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Another woman, older, with a braid down her back, whispered hoarsely, "He’s going to finish on her face if he keeps that up... and she’s letting him." Her hand had unconsciously drifted to the front of her tight trousers.
The two men in the group exchanged uneasy glances, but even they couldn’t look away. One muttered, "This ain’t right... but damn..."
Viktor’s thrusts grew rougher. Gwen’s breasts bounced wildly in his grip, soft flesh spilling between his fingers. The pond water sloshed rhythmically around them. His tail lashed once, wrapping briefly around her thigh and squeezing.
"Viktor—slow down—ah—!"
Gwen’s voice was breathy, broken. Her head tipped back against the stone, silver hair fanning out.
He leaned down, voice low and dark against her ear. "They’re all watching how good you look getting used, princess. Look at them blush. Bet half of them are soaked right now."
Gwen whimpered, eyes rolling again.
His breathing grew ragged. His cock throbbed violently between her tits, the head swelling, turning an even deeper crimson. He was close—dangerously close.
The bandits’ whispers grew bolder, softer, almost reverent.
A petite bandit with short-cropped hair and a crossbow slung across her back pressed her palm against her own thigh, biting back a soft sound. ’It’s so big... the way it slides between her breasts, all shiny and wet. I’ve never seen a man that hard just from... from that.’ Her thoughts swirled with unwanted heat. She shifted her weight, feeling the seam of her tight cloth trousers rub against her most sensitive spot.
Lira, still crouched with her ass high, felt her face burn hotter than the summer sun. ’That cock... it’s leaking all over her chin. She’s closing her eyes like she hates it, but her legs are wrapped around him. What kind of elf lets a man do this in the open?’