Chapter 16: Breakfast Service
The scent of sizzling boar steak and wild onion filled the warm kitchen, a stark, domestic contrast to the primal smells of sex and sweat that had clung to the bedchamber. Minalan stood at the hearth, a towel slung over his shoulder, his bare back muscles rippling as he worked. With one hand, he expertly flipped a golden pancake in a cast-iron skillet. With the other, he shook seasoning over the crackling meat.
Loras sat at the worn wooden table, sipping from a clay mug of herbal tea. His aged eyes, sharp and knowing, watched Minalan with a quiet acceptance that had settled over him in the days since the human’s arrival. "The trick with the boar," Loras said, his voice a dry rustle, "is to get it before it catches your scent on the wind. They're clever, but their eyesight is poor."
"Noted," Minalan grunted, his focus divided.
Elara, wearing only a thin, lace-edged bra and a scrap of fabric that served as a thong, leaned against the table near him. Her silver hair was tied back, exposing the elegant line of her neck. Her gaze, however, was fixed lower, on the thick, heavy cock that swung between Minalan’s legs with his movements. It was already half-hard, gleaming with a bead of moisture at the tip.
"Looks like something else is ready for breakfast," she murmured, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Before Minalan could respond, she dropped to her knees in front of him. She didn't hesitate, wrapping her hand around the base of his shaft and guiding the swollen head into her mouth. She took him deep, her cheeks hollowing as she began to suck with firm, practiced pulls.
Minalan let out a sharp breath, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. He kept flipping pancakes, the motion becoming slightly more ragged. "Fuck, Elara."
Beneath the table, hidden from her husband's view, Lyra was already at work. She knelt on the cool stone floor, her hands resting on Minalan’s thighs. As Elara pulled back, gasping for air with a string of saliva connecting her lip to his cock, Lyra moved in. She didn't just take the tip; she engulfed him, swallowing his entire length in one smooth, deepthroating motion that made Minalan's knuckles go white on the skillet handle.
"Gods," he choked out.
Loras took another sip of his tea, his eyes drifting to the window. "The Elders are convening today. There's talk of the border incursions from the Deepwood."
Elara came up for air, her lips slick and swollen. "Let them talk." She pushed her mother's head aside, reclaiming Minalan's cock, sucking furiously at the head, her tongue swirling around the crown. The sounds were lewd and wet, a filthy counterpoint to the crackling fire and sizzling meat.
Minalan thrust his hips forward, fucking Elara's mouth in short, sharp strokes. His other hand, now free, gripped the edge of the hearth to steady himself. Precum leaked from him, and Elara lapped at it greedily. "Tastes so good," she moaned, the vibration traveling straight up his spine.
Then Lyra was back, her older, more experienced mouth taking over, her throat working around him with a desperate, hungry need. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, as if taking his cock was the most vital task in the world.
"Your mother's throat is fucking divine," Minalan grunted, his gaze locked with Elara's.
"I know," Elara said, her voice husky. She reached under the table to squeeze her mother's breast. "She was made for this. For taking a real cock. Weren't you, Mother?"
A muffled, eager moan was Lyra's only reply.
The competition between them escalated. Elara, fierce and demanding, sucked him with a violent passion, scraping her teeth along his sensitive skin in a way that made him shudder. Lyra, devoted and worshipful, used her tongue and the deep, accepting clutch of her throat, aiming to milk him dry with sheer, relentless skill. They traded him back and forth, their lips and chins soon glistening, their breath coming in hot pants against his flesh.
Loras sighed, pushing his empty mug away. "The pancakes are burning."
Minalan snapped his attention back to the skillet, swiftly rescuing the slightly charred pancake. He slid the boar steak onto a platter. The mundane task, combined with the overwhelming oral assault, pushed him to the edge. His balls tightened, a familiar, coiling heat building at the base of his spine.
"Which one of you wants it?" he growled, his voice rough with strain.
"Me," Elara demanded, pulling him from her mother's mouth.
"Please, me," Lyra begged, her voice a raw whisper from under the table.
Minalan made the decision for them. He fisted his cock, stroking it hard and fast as both women watched, their mouths open, panting. With a guttural roar that echoed in the cozy kitchen, he came.
Thick, pearlescent ropes of cum erupted, splashing across Elara's face and chest. The first shot painted her lips and chin, the second streaked across her cheek and into her silver hair. The next pulse landed on Lyra’s upturned face, glazing her nose and eyelids. They both moaned, their tongues darting out to catch the divine-tasting fluid, rubbing it into their skin as he continued to spurt, the last few drops dribbling onto the stone floor between them.
For a moment, there was only the sound of Minalan's heavy breathing and the soft, lapping sounds the women made as they cleaned themselves.
Loras stood, his chair scraping against the stone. He looked at the scene—his daughter and wife on their knees, faces glazed with another man's seed, the human boy panting by the fire—with an unnerving calm. He picked up the platter of boar steak.
"It's good," Loras said, nodding to Minalan. Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving the three of them in the heavy, cum-scented silence.
Elara looked up at Minalan, her blue eyes blazing with triumph. Lyra simply smiled, a deep, contented look on her besmirched face. She placed a hand low on her own belly, a silent, hopeful question hanging in the air between them all.