Chapter 49: Moonlight, Moss, and Binoculars
The moon hangs heavy over the glowing pond, its silvery light cutting through the canopy in long, dappled columns. Crickets hummed softly in the warm forest air. A perfect night, at least, according to Mysa, who is currently buried chin-deep in a mossy bush.
"By the Maidens," she whispers reverently, her voice barely audible as she adjusts the dials of her ridiculous binocular contraption. "The precision. The control. Look at the flex on that pelvic rotation. Raenly, you absolute fool, you’ll never outdo this! Blackthorn has built a sex-god!"
From behind a gnarled tree, Raenly groans.
"Please stop talking," he hisses, voice cracked and hoarse. "I’m begging you, Mysa. I haven’t slept in two days. I haven’t eaten. My soul is cracking like a kiln-fired glaze. Every sound of satisfaction she makes is another chisel to my ribs."
"But listen to her," Mysa whispers, grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. "She’s making noises I didn’t even know the female vocal cords were capable of. That’s like... eighth-note moaning in perfect tempo. He’s playing her like a symphonic flute, Raenly. He’s perfect! Perfect! Gods, I need to get a taste!"
"I said stop!" Raenly sobs.
A particularly exuberant cry echoes from the glowing pool beyond the trees as Pip folds Sera over and introduces her to his 8 new thrust vectors.
Raenly clenches his jaw. Somewhere deep inside him, something small and vulnerable snaps like a twig underfoot.
"This is torture," he moans, curling up against the tree bark like a wilted fern. "This is scientific torture."
Mysa, still peeking through her vine-camouflaged binoculars, clicks a dial and zooms in.
"Oooh," she coos. "And now we have guests."