[ Contains mature content. Reader discretion advised. ]
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Hale couldn't hold back anymore. Every little tease, every wicked smile from Remy had burned away his restraint until nothing was left. His body was aching for her, straining against the last shred of control.
With a sudden push, he rolled her down into the grass, caging her beneath him.
"Can you two stop moving around?" Rhea protested sharply, still focused on spreading the paste across Hale's back. She was the only one actually working.
"Whoa—!" Remy gasped, eyes widening before softening into a sly, delighted curve.
"You've got to take responsibility for what you've done to me, sis," Hale muttered, voice low and rough.
Remy's breath quickened, her thighs tightening against his hips. "Mmm… my brother really is an animal," she purred, fingers curling around the back of his neck, tugging him closer. "But I like him even more this way."
Their lips brushed, feather-light at first, before pressing together slowly—hungrily.
"Mmmh…" Remy moaned softly as Hale deepened the kiss, his mouth claiming hers. His tongue slid past her lips, meeting hers in a hot, languid dance. She tasted sweet and wild, her every breath stolen by him. Their mouths moved in rhythm, wet and unhurried, savoring every second like neither wanted it to end.
Her nails dragged lightly along his nape, sending shivers down his spine. He pressed harder against her, the heat of their bodies merging, their breaths turning ragged. When they finally pulled apart, their lips clung together for a heartbeat longer before separating with a thin strand of saliva glistening between them—intimate, indecent and intoxicating.
Both of their eyes smoldered with the same unspoken need. They wanted more. So much more.
But—
"You two should stop right there if you value your lives," Rhea's voice sliced through the haze, firm and sharp. She crouched behind them, finishing the last strokes of paste on Hale's back. "It's almost time to send him to the Blood Daughter's chamber. If we don't complete the herbal bath, you know the consequences, Remy."
Remy sighed, her chest rising and falling beneath Hale's weight. She cupped his cheek gently, her playful smile now tinged with regret. "I guess our little game ends here, lil brother."
"Are you kidding me?" Hale muttered, his nerves twitching in frustration. "After getting me this worked up?"
Remy let out a soft laugh, leaning up to brush her lips against his one last time. "You're still so calm and aloof… only because you don't realize how much danger you're really in."
Reluctantly, Hale drew back, steadying his breath as he pulled her into his embrace, holding her close even as the fire between them refused to die down.
Rhea finally rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. "I still need to apply the paste on your legs and arms. So…" her eyes flicked pointedly to Hale's waist, "are you going to take off that strange undergarment yourself, or should I do it?"
"Oh…I can handle it my—"
Before Hale could finish, Remy shifted in his lap, her body pressing closer against his. She tilted her head, lips brushing the side of his neck. "Why let him do it himself? I can take care of that for my lil brother," she purred, planting a teasing kiss just below his ear, then trailing lightly along his nape.
But—
"No." Rhea's voice snapped, sharp as a whip. Her eyes cut toward Remy, cold and uncompromising. "I know exactly where that will lead. I'll handle it. You, prepare the pill…and while you're at it, explain to him why he should be praying to make it through tonight."
Remy pouted, her lower lip caught between her teeth. "No fair, sis. You get to touch him there before me—" She stopped short when she caught the steel in Rhea's expression. For once, her mischief faltered.
"Sigh… fine," she muttered, turning back to Hale. Her smile softened, though her eyes still gleamed with playful heat. "Sorry, lil brother. Maybe we can continue this… if you manage to survive tonight."
She pressed one last kiss to his lips—lingering, slow, a promise rather than a farewell, before finally pulling away. With a reluctant glance back, she rose gracefully and went to prepare the pill, leaving Hale in Rhea's strict care.
Hale stood and slipped off his soaked boxer, his arousal finally on full display.
Rhea's brow raised. Hale's ears burned crimson.
"Ahm… is that… small?" he muttered. Back on Earth, he knew he was above average, though Melissa had never seen it—if she had, that obsessed feral girl might've locked him in her room forever. But here? He had no idea what counted as normal.
Phweee!
A whistle cut through the quiet streamside air.
"Lil brother, you're not really a lil brother, are you?" Remy teased, still crouched with the half-ground herbs, her mischievous grin wide. If Rhea weren't here, he knew for sure that she'd have leapt on him already.
"Sit down," Rhea said evenly, composed as ever.
Hale obeyed. Unlike Remy, he never associated Rhea with wild thoughts. She was a no-nonsense girl through and through. Sometimes he even wondered if she could feel anything.
She knelt and began applying the herbal paste up his legs. "You don't have to worry," she murmured, her voice calm but softer now "From what we learned in the institute… most Aenvari men don't have something this big. Drakthar men, however, that's another story. Theirs are often… painful, unless the woman is Drakthar-born."
Hale blinked. Was that supposed to be comforting?
Her hand slid higher, cool paste meeting throbbing heat.
"Mmhh…" A low groan escaped him before he could swallow it back.
His eyes dropped to her face; her expression calm as always, but her ears were flushed a vivid red. He didn't comment and neither did she.
Then a thought struck him. "Wait a second. You said you learned this at the institute? Why the hell are they teaching… men's sizes there?"
Remy chuckled, a sly sparkle in her eyes. "Hehe… didn't I tell you, lil brother? After learning language, culture, and other nitbits, the Chieftain's children get trained in cultivation and combat. People like me and my sis? We're taught different lessons, like how to please others."
Hale blinked. "Wait—"
Remy leaned forward, her lips curving. "Hehe… you're probably wondering how I'm still a virgin then. You must think I'm a whore, acting the way I do, right?"
"Of course not—" Hale began, but she cut him off.
"I'm teasing." Her lips curved into a sly smile. "But do you know why new trainees like us, fresh from the institution, got sent to an outpost camp on the border like this?"
Hale shook his head, exhaling sharply. He was just grateful Rhea's hands had finally moved past his c*ck—another moment of her touch and he might have spilled himself across her flushed face.
A stray thought flickered in Hale's mind at that moment. Institution? Virgin? Those words didn't really fit this world. They sounded too modern, too out of place for a tribal society. He realized it must be his Corma Shard at work—translating their tongue into something he could understand. But maybe sometimes, the shard didn't quite render it in "modern" speech, and instead gave him the raw meaning straight into his head.
As he mulled it over, Remy walked over with a small bowl cradled in her hands. She crouched beside him, her smile softer than usual, while Rhea quietly worked on applying paste to his legs.
"Lil brother," Remy said gently, "do you know why I've been so… intimate with you, even though we only met today?"
Hale shook his head. Honestly, he had assumed it was just the nature of this era; people more raw, less restrained than back on Earth.
Remy's smile faltered. "The reason we were sent to this camp… the reason I'm even here now, this close to you… is because the last girl they sent; someone like me, meant to serve and please the higher-ups under Blood Daughter Helda—died."
Hale froze. A dark chill ran up his spine.
Remy's voice fell to a whisper. "She died at the hands of a son of one of the faction's higher-ups… he couldn't control his strength. While he cried out in pleasure, she screamed in pain." Her fingers traced lightly across Hale's cheek, her eyes carrying something far heavier than mere desire.
"That's what's going to happen to you tonight, with Blood-Daughter Helda."
"…What?!" Hale's stomach dropped.
"The only punishment he got," Remy continued bitterly, "was being sent back to the Heartland—the main settlement of the Drakthar tribe, for a single month of house arrest. That was it. That's how little our lives mean." She let out a dry, broken laugh. "…All we could do was feel relieved he wasn't here anymore."
Her gaze softened again as it met Hale's. "So before my turn comes, before I end up captured by some higher-up and forced to serve them…I thought maybe, just maybe, I could enjoy a little warmth with someone I actually like."
Her hand drifted down his chest, then lower, her fingers curling around his hardened shaft, making him groan.
"But even that's forbidden," she whispered. "By Helda's command. Not just her, almost every faction has the same rule. Any Aenvari captive must be sent directly to the faction leader first. Anyone caught taking them before that… would see their whole family's head roll."
Hale clenched his jaw. "But why? I thought the Drakthars wanted more Mystics. Wouldn't that mean more children from the Aenvari captives, not less?"
Remy's hand moved slowly, deliberately, her voice low and almost bitter. "That's true. But Uldrak made a commandment after the first Witch was born. He promised that whoever captured or birthed a Mystic would be raised above all others—their name and authority elevated. Tell me, lil brother… would any faction leader risk one of their lowborn servants birthing a Mystic child, one that could raise them above the leader themself?" She smirked sadly. "No… only the trusted, the closest, are allowed such rights."
Her eyes darkened. "But Helda is different. She hates Aenvari with every fiber of her being. That hatred comes from her mother—the Matron of the 2nd Great Faction."
Remy's lips curled into a bittersweet smile as her hand kept working him slowly. "You know, lil brother, Helda wasn't born hateful. She was once… cheerful, even gentle."
Hale blinked. Cheerful? That monster?
"But everything changed after the Witch was born. Uldrak favored her and her mother, and the Matron of the 2nd Great Faction, could do nothing about it. So where do you think she poured her bitterness? On her children."
Rhea's hand paused on Hale's calf for a moment, as if the memory weighed on her too.
"She whipped them, starved them, crushed them with expectations. Why?" Remy's tone sharpened. "Because she wanted her children to outshine the Witch. She couldn't give birth to a Mystic herself, and that failure gnawed at her. So she thought—if her own bloodline couldn't produce one, maybe breaking her children would harden them into something greater."
Hale clenched his fists in the grass. She tortured her own kids… just to prove a point?
Remy leaned closer, her breath tickling his cheek, her hand never stopping its slow torment. "But in the end, all it did was twist Helda. She grew strong, yes…but resentful. And when she was finally strong enough, she broke away from her mother's faction and built her own, clawed it up from nothing, until it became one of the strongest Major Factions—just beneath the Great ones."
Remy's hand squeezed him gently, making his breath hitch. "That's why she hates us, lil brother. She hates the Aenvari due to the Witch, and she hates her own blood due to her mother. Don't let her looks fool you… she's older than she looks. Older, and far more dangerous."
Hale was torn between conflict and arousal. Remy's words were heavy, painful truths and bitter confessions…yet her hand kept moving, stroking him with deliberate slowness. His body betrayed him before his mind could catch up. With a sharp breath, he reached his limit, spilling his release in sudden spurts.
Some of it caught across Remy's fingers and face, while the rest landed messily in Rhea's brown hair as she worked the paste between his thighs. She froze, her hand suspended mid-motion.
Remy blinked in astonishment, her lips parting as she stared at the white liquid glistening on her hand. Already flushed, already leaking below, she whispered as if in a trance, "A man's seed…" She lifted her hand and tasted it, her tongue flicking out, eyes hazy with desire. "My lil brother's seed…" she breathed, her gaze drowning in delirious longing.
She licked her hand clean slowly, sensually, every motion dripping with want. Hale swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling as her gaze locked on him, drowning in lust.
"Remy—" Rhea's sharp tone cracked slightly, betraying her own unease. She stood abruptly, wiping the liquid from her hair a little too quickly. "It's enough. The herbs are already set everywhere else. Now… paste the rest on your face yourself, then take the pill, and return to the stream. I'll handle the rest after." Her breathing wasn't as steady as her words.
Hale looked at her, saw the faint tremor in her fingers, the tightness in her jaw—but she turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.
Remy only chuckled softly, dream-drunk and flushed, still savoring his taste on her lips as if she'd already claimed him.