Monique (f/m; When you boss fucks you're colleagues like she's his X)

The clink of Ice cubes in in a glass drew everyone's attention to Monique. Smiling at Dumas, she smirked and lifted a bottle of spirits, making a show of unscrewing the cap and pouring the amber liquid in a long stream into a glass.

There was a certain deliberate sexual appeal to her movement. Her breast propped up by her arms, showcasing their ample size and large perky nipples. Monique too, had aged gracefully, though she did have some gray in her dark blond hair, here face was dolled up, with heavy makeup, emphasising her lips, blush and heavy mascara.

But her antics only annoyed Paul. None of the knew, when Dumas had last eaten or drank anything, given his state of mind it might exacerbate his aggression towards all of the. But he didn't say anything, Monique was one of the most senior among the guides, nor did he want to draw Dumas's attention towards him by openly rebuking Monique who also seemed to share a sort of friendship with Dumas.

"Damn it, Bastien, come and park your ass here for two minutes, you look wiped." Monique commanded. She always spoke to him informally. No matter who was around. As much as Paul wanted to mind his own business, he always found himself drawn in by their dynamic.

Dumas straightened and made his way around the counter towards her. The same, unnerving single minded intensity in his gaze.

The older woman pressed unabashedly up against Dumas, who sighed, his shoulders relaxing bringing his own arms up to encircle her lower back.

They breathed 'together for a moment that dragged on uncomfortably long for Paul.

"You look like someone dug you up. You know, If you keep tugging the rope, it'll snap, my poor old man. " She chastises playfully snagging a wet wipe from one of the many packages tucked away all throughout the room wiping off his face and beard from menstrual blood, then trailing it down his chest and beginning a sensuous up and down motion, cleaning his cock, The view of it was thankfully covered by the bar.

"Your out of touch old hag." He sighs melodramatically. "It's just the same old struggle, You've just gone up in the world, living the cushy life on my cash." He bantered back.

"Wash that mouth, it smells ass." She shoots back, grabbing the glass of spirits on the table and brining it to his lips.

He plucks it out of her hand.

"Yeah, yeah your Ladyship." he rolls his eyes and takes a big gulp, closing his eyes as he swallows the burn. Then moves to put it down.

"You seriously need a break, my big boy. Always busting your ass for work." She snags the glass out of his hand.

"Shut it" He murmurs pressing closer to her and beginning to let his hands slide up and down her back.

"With pleasure." She says with a smirk. Than gulps down the rest of the spirits. Grabs his chin and seal their lips together.

The kiss heats op in an instant, their jaws moving as they seem to devour each other, HE grabs her by the ass lifting her off the ground and grinding into her.

Spirits dripping down both of their chins and onto their chest.

They break their kiss. Monique is panting.

"Come on, hurry up. Keep grinding it out." She pants.

All of a sudden his eyes glow bright with hunger, he seems to take a step into the air placing her on the counter that most decently was above waist hight.

Monique makes a grab for his dick pressing it into her pussy. It's as if watching a beast unleash it's full ferocity. He lunges into her burying grabbing her waist and breast his mouth feasting on her neck.

An instinctual fear prickles up Paul's spine and he abruptly looks away from the scene and Monique's face of extract.

The realisation catches up to him in as if delayed. Bastian was using his ability. He didn't know much about it, other than it brought formidable defensive powers, which was one of the reason's he has so few scars.

A visceral annoyance suddenly grabs Paul by the throat. They reason they were all here was precisely here was because of the burden those powers put on Dumas. He was completely disregarding their efforts and sacrifice by using it to fuck them.

Paul wanted to sit down and fume. Plug his hears from the slapping and groaning coming from behind him.

He made to sit on the sofa, but the damn big girth of the but plug made itself known and he aborted the impulse.

Throwing a final glance at Dumas feral visage, teeth bared with Monique's breast pulled taught in his mouth. He closed his eye, fisted his hands and breathed deeply, trying to count his breaths.

Paul had counting about twice past 60, occasionally losing count when his thought's drifted to Monique's loud moans and wet slapping. It always stirred up some of his feelings his cock included. He was ignoring it though.

When things started to quieten down, at least form Monique's side of things. Her moans beginning to become more interspersed, and weaker. And you know it's a sign that she's soon at the end of her rope.

Guide's who overused their abilities would often grow lethargic, their soothing abelites growing fainter. It would cease entirely if the guide fell ****.

The slapping began to slow shortly after Monique stopped moaning entirely.

Paul opened his eyes and looked over when the slapping too, stopped.

Dumas was leaning over Monique, who'd been turned over to lay on her stomach at some point. He was still inside her, The shoulder's of his muscles clearly defined from tension.

He sighed, and withdrew his cock that, was obviously still hard, and seemed to step off of something, his ways disappearing behind the bar.

He patted her gently on the ass. "Alright, girly. You're, done. Go lay down at home."

Monique's answered with a drowsy but miffed whine.

"Com on" he pestered, shaking her has ass this time.

"Bugg off" she wined.

"Clearly your the one busting your ass" He sighs, walking around the counter to face the room while stroking his throbbing dick.

"I'll make you something to stuff in your face, before, leaving. Eat it when you're done." She called tiredly.

"Scram" he rebuked. Smouldering eyes scanning for his next target.