Ch. 115 – You REALLY Don’t Want to Make Me Start

"I don’t know what I did in a past life to deserve all of this," Rhys thought sullenly, his mental defenses crumbling into dust.

He couldn’t deny it anymore—his body was completely giving in to the overwhelming sensation below. Dione took him into her mouth with absolute abandon, her tongue moving masterfully, swirling and applying pressure with an effortless precision as if she knew his body as intimately as her own.

It’s not fair, Rhys lamented in his mind as she drew him in deep. That other guy probably got to skate through life with zero problems... it should have been me!

"I have to say... you are right, Rhys. I’m sorry," Durin spoke up, abruptly shattering Rhys's bizarre, internal pity party.

"I’m... right?" Rhys manage to gasp out.

Beneath the bar, Dione gripped his thighs tightly, her nails digging into his skin as she grew bolder. Rhys forced his gaze downward to chastise her silently, only to be hit with a sight that made his blood run scalding hot. Ariadne was hovering right above Dione, playfully wagging her slick, exposed warmth back and forth in front of him, waiting expectantly for him to return to her. It was like a depraved, hypnotic game of peek-a-boo: one moment Dione was slurping up at him with long, devoted strokes, her blue eyes locked on his; the next, Ariadne’s voluptuous hips and dripping center swung into full view, partially obscuring the sea goddess gulping beneath her. Ariadne’s fingers moved frantically over her own heat, showing him exactly how badly she wanted him.

Lira.

I do have a wife, Rhys thought numbly, his soul aching. And she’s in this very ballroom.

He looked up to see Durin staring back at him with genuine, apologetic eyes. "You really did need that help with the cooking all along, didn’t you, Rhys? I’m sorry that I was blinded by jealous anger earlier... it’s clear to see that you’re a good man, and just a really good friend to Rhea now."

Ohhh... I get it now. I’m the monster here, aren’t I? The silent realization inside Rhys’s mind was deafening.

Rhys opened his mouth to say something, anything, but not a single sound came out. His subconscious tried to offer up a few pitiful options: Thank you, You really shouldn't thank me again, or simply shouting a last-ditch "Fuck you!" to the world.

Then, over the dwarf’s shoulder, the image of Lira came into sharp focus. She looked completely serene, floating through the venue as party guests naturally gravitated toward her radiant presence. But the sight of Omen stepping right in front of her, front and center, sent a blinding surge of pure rage through Rhys's veins.

Below the bar, Dione released him from her mouth with a long, wet slurp. With practiced ease, she guided him upward to rejoin Ariadne’s warmth directly above her head. The sudden spike of rage in Rhys's blood instantly morphed into raw, carnal lust, fueling his corrupted core.

His chest flared with heat as his vision suddenly shifted—the lines of magical tethers became visible to his eyes once more. The dimly lit ballroom suddenly looked like a vintage television flickered from dull black-and-white into vivid, bursting color. He could see faint, glowing auras hovering over the average partygoers, while much larger, denser energy fields enveloped the powerful figures in the room.

Rhys bent over the counter again as Ariadne began to buck up against him with wild abandon, the sheer force of her hips making the heavy bar tremble from below. She was completely losing her sense of restraint—either forgetting where they were entirely, or simply no longer caring who caught them.

"Hey, honey!"

The familiar, affectionate call rang out, shocking Rhys back to reality. It can’t be Lira... please, don’t be Lira! he pleaded internally.

"Rhys? Honey?" It was Rhea’s voice, echoing from the kitchen partition behind him.

Rhys snapped his eyes open, staring straight down as he doubled over in ecstasy. His field of vision was filled entirely with Ariadne’s lush warmth conjoined seamlessly with his own, her hips bucking smoothly in an unyielding rhythm.

Yeah... the monster is definitely me, he thought, a dark, smug satisfaction creeping into his chest.

He was actually starting to like this. There was no dark figure egging him on or attempting to take control of his limbs for once. Staring down, he spotted the thick, radiant tether connecting his energy to Ariadne’s—a raw, vibrant blood-red conduit. Mindlessly, Rhys reached his hand down and brushed his fingers against the glowing line, feeling the raw magic tingle against his skin.

Suddenly, a pair of warm, smooth hands wrapped securely around his shoulders from behind.

"Rhys... I have one pot of soup almost ready, honey," Rhea whispered softly into his ear, smelling of rich spices and fresh broth. "Sadly, it just won’t be enough to serve everyone. I’m going to need more hands back here if you want these guests to eat."

"I... kind of have ALL of my hands tied right now," Rhys whispered back, his voice thick and strained. "Also... we really have to keep this a 'private' kitchen for right now."

Wait... I have a wife, Rhys reminded himself, his mind frantically trying to anchor to something clean.

He glanced across the glittering room once more, catching sight of Lira smiling and happily conversing with a group of local heroes. Relief surged through him—until he saw the shadowy phantom standing directly in front of her. Lira didn't even notice as Omen extended a dark, clawed hand toward her chest, a manic, bright grin stretched from ear to ear across the shadow's face.

NO! boomed inside Rhys’s head.

In an instant, Omen vanished, as if an invisible curtain had dropped over the phantom.

That’s... good. Good enough for now, Rhys thought, drawing a faint, shaky breath.

Ariadne immediately pulled him back into the moment, wrapping one of her twirling crimson rings tightly around his groin as she bucked upward, literally gripping his absolute attention. She was diving right back into her pleasure. Below her, Dione moved her hands frantically over her own breasts and wetness, watching the spectacle above her with wide, devoted eyes.

Behind him, Rhea kept her arms wrapped lovingly around his torso, her body pressed against his back.

"I would really love to try this 'legendary' soup that we’ve ALL been waiting for!" Durin spat out suddenly, his former suspicions and fiery jealousy instantly reigniting as he watched his wife cling to Rhys.

"I was just trying to test something out... I wanted to see something," a voice echoed lazily.

Omen materialized out of nowhere, standing right beside the fuming dwarf, completely uncaring of the flaming hatred radiating off the short man.

Don’t even make me start, man, Rhys thought, a dangerous, fiery anger rising within him as Ariadne, Dione, and Rhea held him in their grip. You REALLY DON'T WANT TO MAKE ME START!