thirsty tsun

Outside the closed house Rosaria rounded on Aether at once.

“Congratulations. Whatever you did when she touched you just torched the only opening we had. We finally get a foot in the door and you manage to make the recluse throw the entire group out in under a minute.” Her voice stayed low and sharp, though even she had to admit none of them actually understood what had triggered the sudden eviction. The Grand Shaman had gone from reluctant curiosity to full expulsion the instant skin met skin, and no one had an explanation.

With the door firmly shut and no further response coming from inside, they had little choice. The pride returned to the open-field camp, restocked what little they had used, and settled in for another night with the intention of trying again at first light.

Late evening rewrote the plan.

Citlali appeared at the edge of the firelight looking thoroughly disheveled. Her face was still flushed, her breathing noticeably heavy, and the usual theatrical grandeur had been replaced by a flustered, barely-contained intensity. She pointed directly at Aether and spoke in a rush that tried (and failed) to sound imperious.

(https://im.ge/i/QMKZrdT)
(artist: Toromiya)

“You. I require further analysis. In private. My residence. Now. The previous reading was… incomplete. This is purely for thorough examination of the data. Nothing else.”

The entire pride turned toward her with the exact same slow, knowing, faintly evil smile.

No one called her out.

Rosaria, still standing closest to Aether, answered in a tone of pure polite fiction.

“Of course, Grand Shaman. We completely understand the need for deeper analysis. Take as long as you require. He’s all yours for the evening.”

The others murmured similar agreeable lies, every one of them clearly aware of exactly what the heavily panting tsundere actually wanted. Citlali, either too worked up to notice or desperately choosing not to, accepted the permission at face value. She made a stiff little gesture for Aether to follow and started back toward her house at a pace that was trying very hard not to look like a retreat.

Aether glanced once at the wall of amused, predatory smiles behind him, then followed the dishonest Grand Shaman into the dark, leaving the pride to their quiet, collective certainty that the “thorough analysis” was going to be anything but academic.

Citlali closed the door behind them with a sharp click and immediately put her back against it, as if the wood could still lend her some authority.

It failed.

Everything about her posture and breathing betrayed how restless she had become. Hours of frantic touching after the first vision had left her flushed, thighs pressed tightly together, and visibly aching for more. The tsundere mask was still in place, but it sat poorly on a face that looked openly hungry.

“We need to repeat the reading,” she announced, trying for imperious and landing somewhere closer to breathless. “The previous contact was insufficient. More skin is required for a clearer vision. That is the only reason.”

She tugged the upper layers of her garments open without waiting for agreement. Her bare breasts spilled free — soft, full, nipples already tight. She fixed Aether with a look that dared him to comment.

“Massage them. The additional contact will stabilize the reading. Do not read anything else into it.”

Aether stepped in behind her without argument.

His hands slid under the weight of her tits, lifting and squeezing, thumbs brushing deliberately across the stiff peaks. Citlali’s carefully prepared lecture died in her throat. A helpless little sound escaped instead. Her head tipped back against his shoulder almost at once, body melting into the touch she had pretended was purely technical. The Grand Shaman who had spent centuries bored by perfect foresight was currently arching into a pair of hands like she had never been properly groped in her life.

(https://im.ge/i/QMKZXJ0)
(artist: Toromiya)

Before she could drag another flimsy tsundere excuse into the air, Aether turned her face toward him and claimed her mouth.

The kiss was deep and unhurried. He kept both hands working her breasts the entire time — kneading, pinching, rolling the nipples between his fingers while his tongue pushed past her lips. Citlali made a muffled, needy noise and kissed back harder than the situation should have allowed, all pretense of “required contact for analysis” collapsing under the simple fact that she had been touching herself for hours and was finally getting the real thing.