Ch. 116 – You Saw Nothing

The suffocating mixture of righteous fury and dark, unbridled arousal surged through Rhys’s veins like pure fire. Beneath the service bar, Ariadne showed zero intention of slowing down; she thrust her voluptuous hips upward onto him with reckless abandon, using the thick, glowing red ring coiled tightly around Rhys’s groin to constrict rhythmically as it slid up his length and deep into her slick interior. The sheer sensation forced a breathless, hedonistic moan from her lips.

"I can’t deal with this right now," Rhys groaned out loud, his heavy sigh colliding with Ariadne's quiet gasp to effectively mask the sound from the tavern air.

"Oh-ho! Is that so?!" Durin bellowed, his face turning an angry, flushed crimson as he glared at the sight of his golden wife, Rhea, still draped heavily over the hero's shoulders from behind. "Does my wife help you 'DEAL' when you can’t handle things, Rhys?!"

She does help me deal, actually, Rhys couldn't help but admit to himself.

Out of all the chaotic housewives currently dismantling his quiet domestic existence, Rhea was ironically the one who seemed to operate with the best intentions. Even in this very second, her large, soft, incredibly voluptuous body pressing up against his back was subtly grounding his shattered senses. Her hands smoothed over his chest and shoulders in a slow, possessive rhythm that had long since abandoned any pretense of a simple "massage." She held Rhys upright, keeping him sturdy as Ariadne mercilessly rode him from below, her spatial ring pulsating as it constricted around their tight union. Beneath them both, Dione worked greedily, her tongue trailing wet, feverish tracks along his sensitive skin while her other hand flicked frantically at her own turquoise-shimmering center.

"He’s an angry little one, isn’t he?" the phantom of Omen observed casually, floating right beside the trembling dwarf and nodding at Durin’s fiery posture.

You still haven’t told me what you were trying to do to Lira! Rhys shouted mentally at the dark figure, his internal voice practically hoarse with anger.

The shadowy manifestation of Omen let out a raspy, taunting chuckle. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Rhys glared daggers at the phantom.

"I want you to actually see something," Omen continued, its tone suddenly dropping into an eerie, cold seriousness. "Go ahead. Take a real look at that adoring, perfect wife of yours."

Rhys shifted his focus, glancing right over the stout dwarf’s broad head toward the far side of the brightly lit ballroom. Lira was standing near a marble pillar, engaged in lively conversation with a tall, handsome man with silver-gray hair. She looked entirely serene, comfortable, and relatively happy.

She’s totally fine, Rhys hissed internally, snapping his eyes back to the shadow sitting atop the bar counter.

"Ohhh! So now my wife is 'FINE' draped all over you?! This is all just FINE?!" Durin shouted, completely misinterpreting Rhys's whispered comment.

Rhea seemed to not notice her husband's rising tantrum—or simply didn't care. She wrapped her arms even tighter around Rhys’s chest, her warm breath fanning against his neck as Ariadne picked up speed beneath the counter. The red-haired fox drove her hips upward with total abandon, her legs and high heels splayed out under the bar ledge as she chased her own high.

This has gotta be a bad joke, Rhys thought glumly. The crossing of wires in my head right now is getting so much worse.

And it was about to reach a catastrophic peak. Driven by sheer humiliation and rage, Durin took a decisive step forward, intent on bypassing the bar partition. In a fraction of a second, he was going to look directly down and witness the absolute, unhinged pandemonium occurring beneath the counter: Ariadne bucking frantically until she hit a hard, trembling finish, her thighs spasming violently as waves of euphoria echoed through her body while her thick red ring pulsed around Rhys; and Dione kneeling right beside her, greedily lapping up the slick liquids spilling over from Rhys and Ariadne’s climax.

"You were wrong," Rhys said absentmindedly, his fractured focus completely slipping.

He had meant to direct the statement squarely at Omen, but the sudden out-loud declaration stopped the advancing dwarf dead in his tracks.

"Oh, really?!" Durin stumbled, blinking in total disbelief.

"Oh, really?" Omen echoed coolly at the exact same time, a dark smirk stretching across its shadowy face. "You should probably take another look."

Rhys’s eyes flicked back toward Lira across the room. She was still talking to the gray-haired man, but the stranger had slouched over, leaning in uncomfortably close to her space. Lira didn't pull away; instead, she let out a soft, light giggle, swirling her drink.

I really don't like that... who even is that old man, anyway?! Rhys thought, a sudden spike of possessive irritation piercing his chest.

Then, the realization hit him like a physical blow. The gray-haired man was Galen—Ariadne’s wealthy, oblivious husband. The man had zero clue that his wife was currently beneath a catering bar, giving Rhys the ride of his life. Right beneath Rhys's groin, Ariadne’s internal muscles suddenly tightened in a sharp, possessive grip, as if sensing her husband's distant presence in the room. Galen was laughing, sharing something oh-so-amusing with Rhys’s heroic wife.

Yet, Rhys still tried to force himself to believe nothing was wrong with Lira. He turned his glare back toward Omen, but his eyes landed square on Durin’s red, furious face instead.

Why are you still here? Rhys lamented miserably. Can you just, POOF, and go away like the 'fart' right next to you did?

"So you make a bold claim and then stare off into the distance like you can’t even be bothered, huh?!" Durin demanded in an absolute huff.

"I heard that, by the way," Omen chimed in smugly from the side.

"I need an answer, mister!" Durin shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

"You saw nothing again, didn’t you?" Omen asked, completely ignoring the dwarf's screaming to stare directly into Rhys's soul.

"Yeah... I saw nothing," Rhys said matter-of-factly, his tone completely flat.

Durin looked like he was on the verge of a full-blown stroke next to the smiling, cold specter—a hilariously chaotic contrast.

"I knew you wouldn’t notice," Omen said, bursting into a dark, mocking laugh that echoed only in Rhys's mind.

"How could you NOT notice this?!" Durin barked, bewildered by Rhys's bizarre demeanor.

Oh, fuck... Rhys thought, the sheer exhaustion and frustration washing over him.

And then, he felt it.

Ariadne unleashed her spatial portal powers once again through her glowing crimson ring. With a subtle flick of her fingers, the portal shifted the space surrounding Rhys’s groin, instantly transferring him from deep inside her own body straight into another warm, impossibly tight wetness as she continued her rhythmic bucking.

Directly behind Rhys, Rhea let out a sharp, breathless gasp of pure shock.

OH, FUCK! Rhys roared inside his own head as his knees nearly buckled from a blinding wave of sudden euphoria.

He would have collapsed straight to the floorboards if Rhea hadn't been holding him rigidly upright. Her entire voluptuous frame tensed up behind him as she felt the shocking, impossible sensation of Rhys entering her wetness through a invisible ring portal seamlessly hidden beneath the folds of her green dress. Dione immediately leaned in from below, soft, delicate licks sweeping along his exposed length to conduct his mounting excitement like a divine orchestra. Ariadne maintained a deep, powerful cadence from below, ensuring Rhea felt every single inch of Rhys in intense, episodic bursts of spatial overlap.

"I’m sure you noticed those magical tethers in your vision earlier, didn't you?" Omen whispered, stepping closer as its glowing eyes burned with dark amusement. "With all your little 'helpers' in this room... isn’t it very, very peculiar that you didn’t notice a single tether connecting you... to your 'precious wife'?"

The words hit Rhys like an icy bucket of water.

Oh... Rhys thought, his heart sinking into a deep, hollow abyss. Fuck.

Durin finally looked up, catching the intensely flushed, dazed expression on his wife’s face and her sudden, shallow breathing. The dwarf’s eyes widened in realization that something monumentally wrong was happening right in front of him.

"Yo- you... I wil- I'm coming back there RIGHT NOW!" the stout dwarf stammered, his rage boiling over as he reached for the bar divider.

Just bring out the damn coffin already... Rhys cried out in the quiet, shattered ruins of his mind.