Ch. 120 – Let Me Handle the Dishes

"Actually, I do mind," Rhys said, his voice flat, his face completely deadpan.

He wasn’t playing anymore. He had already explicitly told Serephina earlier that day that out of all the women present, he wanted her to stay the furthest away from him. Does she just not get it? Rhys thought angrily, a hot spike of resentment flaring in his chest.

Beneath the bar, he could feel the sudden, intense rush of Dione’s lips tightening around his length. She sped up her rhythm, her eyes glowing up at him as she practically smiled at his newfound inner fire. Rhys let out a low, soft growl, grinding his teeth together to bite back the staggering wave of ecstasy threatening to overtake him from the three housewives behind the bar. He was still drowning in the combined physical sensations: the tight, clamping heat of Rhea’s golden folds, Ariadne’s slippery interior taking him all the way to her womb through the ring, and Dione greedily swallowing him down to the base with long, slurping movements.

"D-did you just... gruff at me?!" Serephina asked, taken aback by Rhys’s unintended, feral groan.

Her expression softened, her tone shifting into something more tender—and vastly more infuriating. "What’s going on with you, Rhys? I thought... I thought you just needed some time after this morning."

What the hell is she even going on about?! Rhys thought, utterly annoyed.

He did his absolute best to completely ignore the angel-shaped problem standing right in front of him. From the back of the kitchen, Omen looked up from the soup pots, perking his dark ears to listen intently for when the figurative shots would start firing.

"I just need you to back away," Rhys gritted out through his teeth.

He really, truly did. The physical pressure underneath the bar escalated to a critical level as Dione pulled a move he hadn't even known her capable of. He felt the terrifying, incredible coiling of her tongue as it lengthened nearly a foot, using her evolving merfolk biology to masterfully wrap and spiral all the way around Rhys’s length as she worked.

(Three).

Serephina leaned back, utterly appalled at the cold, harsh way Rhys was speaking to her. Even Ging, her drunken tiefling husband, shot her a look of slight discomfort, as if feeling the bite of Rhys's words on her behalf. Serephina ignored the look of party pity from her husband, leaning back over the counter to whisper softly to Rhys.

NO, Rhys’s voice screamed out in the silent sanctuary of his mind.

In the background, Omen smiled, thoroughly enjoying the mounting chaos. He kept directing the spectral army of shadow cooks as they plated the soup, preparing to pass out dishes to the party guests.

Serephina whispered, "Rhys... after what has changed between us over the past few days... the way you touch me... I thought—"

She was cut off instantly.

Rhys slammed his fist onto the wooden bar top so hard the heavy glass he had been unknowingly gripping the entire time shattered into a thousand pieces. His hand remained completely unphased by the sharp shards.

A barrage of explosive events happened simultaneously to trigger that violent reaction. First was the sheer, unbridled intensity of Dione’s relentless, foot-long tongue—swirling and reaching into tight, sensitive places Rhys had never felt in his entire life while she bucked her head back and forth. The sudden, jerky movements sent a blinding shockwave of pleasure through all three women connected behind the kitchen bar.

Rhea collapsed completely onto the floor, her golden legs and hips spasming in an absolute mess as she hit a violent, continuous finish, a thick puddle forming beneath her from the trails of wetness running down her dress. Underneath the bar, Ariadne finished hard as well, her voluptuous rear wagging up and down in sheer involuntary spasm, her innermost folds opening as her slick wetness splashed everywhere beneath the bar counter. Some of her wetness even splashed up over the top of the bar ledge, though the sudden spray was conveniently masked by the shattering glass in Rhys’s hand.

But the main trigger wasn't just the drowning ecstasy. It was the pure, unadulterated hatred he felt toward Serephina for trying to pull him back into her orbit—too many years too late.

(Two).

Ging gasped at the sudden explosion of glass, snapping upright into an alert stance. Serephina didn't budge, far too shocked by Rhys's violence to move. She couldn't understand why he was acting like this toward her.

"Rhys... please don’t shut me away," she pleaded, her brow deeply furrowed. "I know you said earlier today that you didn’t want... to talk about that, but now you’re acting completely unlike yourself!"

Omen began to chuckle softly to himself from the back kitchen, observing the drama fold out. The dumb bird just doesn’t get it—the man fucking hates you, the shadow stated darkly in Rhys's head.

It was the absolute truth. Rhys hadn't fully realized it until this exact moment, but out of all the women from his past who had suddenly re-entered his life—Shula, Ariadne, all of them—he would have been happiest to never see Serephina again. She had hurt him deeply, ruthlessly, and with zero remorse when she abandoned him for Ging. Ging—the very tiefling who had been bothering him at the bar all night, blissfully unaware of the history crumbling around them. The old, painful scar had just been torn wide open.

"Wait a moment here..." Ging said, his voice sobering up completely as his eyes darted between his wife and Rhys. "Babe... I know I shouldn’t bring this up right now, but... your 'request'? The one for... you know?"

Below, Dione kept frantically gulping Rhys in, working her impossibly long tongue at every wild angle, even extending outside her lips to wrap around his base and balls. Ariadne kept spasming and moaning loudly under the bar, her muffled pleasure hidden by the intense argument above while her wetness sloshed around the glowing crimson ring portal. Across the room, Rhea was practically trying to wriggle completely out of her emerald dress as she writhed on the floorboards, clutching at her warmth while Rhys still filled her deep through the spatial conduit.

"Nugget?!" Durin cried out in absolute panic at the sight of his writhing wife, convinced she was suffering from a life-threatening hot flash.

Ging looked between Serephina and Rhys, his face twisting into extreme discomfort as the pieces began assembling in his mind. "Nooo... don’t tell me... wait! Don’t tell me that you were thinking of asking Rhys this whole time?!"

I am so real fucking sick of this shit, Rhys thought, completely giving up his mental resistance and letting himself plunge headfirst into the crushing ocean of carnal pleasure.

(One).

Rhys couldn't hold back for another single microsecond. He finished extremely hard right as the brutal, tense scene at the bar hit a violent fever pitch.

All three women let out a synchronized, muffled explosion of absolute ecstasy in the kitchen. Dione finished hard as she took in the full, hot rush of Rhys’s seed, her long tongue constricting tightly around him to milk every single drop from his length as he pulsed. As she bucked up and down, Ariadne’s spatial rings amplified and transferred the entire kinetic explosion straight through the conduit to all three of them. Rhys could literally see Ariadne’s inner folds opening beneath the bar as her wetness was flooded from the inside out through the ring portal. Rhea took the massive surge directly into the deepest depths of her womb, so much so that it began spilling back out of her wetness in tiny, spurting trails as her whole body lay completely slumped and spasming on the floor.

The room spun wildly in Rhys's vision, the heavy sensory overload making everything fade into a blur—until his senses slowly floated back, anchoring onto a smooth, sultry voice his heart had been unconsciously waiting for all night.

"My, my, Hero... it looks like you’ve gotten yourself into quite a lot behind this bar, haven’t you?"

Rhys’s vision cleared to reveal a dangerously familiar, devilish smile framed by those iconic, twitching cat-like ears. He couldn't believe the sudden, overwhelming wave of genuine happiness that washed over him just seeing her face.

I have a wife... right? a faint, dying voice shouted from the deepest, forgotten corner of his subconscious.

"Let me handle the dishes for you, darling," Vespera said, her voice dripping with dark, wicked humor as her sharp eyes scanned the kitchen chaos. "There seems to be quite a lot piling up back here."