wealthy co-passanger

They made better time than usual.

Without the usual string of roadside relief stops and opportunistic fucking, the group simply walked. Packs stayed lighter, conversations stayed shorter, and the coastal path unwound under their feet at a steady clip. By the morning of the next day the familiar mineral haze of the hot springs was already visible in the distance, white steam rising against the darker green of the slopes.

Aether considered asking.

The desire pools were right there. One request, one softening of Rosaria’s current rules, and he could have the entire pride slick and desperate in water that actively encouraged it. He glanced at his fiancée. She was still turning the new silver ring around her finger with that private, satisfied motion, but the set of her mouth had not yet fully unclenched. The residual heat of her anger was cooler than the day before, yet still present enough that he decided not to test it. He kept the thought to himself.

She did remove the daytime leash once the springs came into view.

The concession stopped there. At night the foot chain remained — a short, practical length that kept him from leaving the bedroll without waking at least one of the women draped across him. Sleeping arrangements had become a warm, heavy pile. Multiple bodies claimed space against his chest, his back, his legs. It would have been stifling in the Natlan heat if not for Shenhe. The calamity tended to end up closest, and the unconscious leak of cryo from her skin kept the immediate space around him cool enough to breathe. More than once Aether drifted off with her chilled cheek against his shoulder and the soft weight of two or three other women filling every remaining gap.

From the final rise above the shore the dark silhouette of the Alcor was already visible at anchor, sails furled, Beidou’s unmistakable banner hanging lazy in the morning breeze. The captain had made good time. Mualani shaded her eyes, confirmed the ship, and started down the last stretch of path without waiting for discussion.

Sailor girls in the same scandalously abbreviated uniforms as the last voyage were already waiting at the shallows with a string of light transport boats. There was no ceremony. Packs were handed over, the pride climbed aboard, and within minutes the small craft had closed the gap to the Alcor’s dark hull.

Beidou herself was nowhere in immediate sight. The woman who stood at the top of the boarding ladder, one hand resting on the rail, was far more unexpected.

Ningguang.

The Tianquan of Liyue had come in person.

Rosaria took one look at the outfit and pinched the bridge of her nose hard enough that the new silver ring flashed in the morning light. Whatever remaining resolve she had left to maintain the sex ban visibly cracked.

Ningguang wore a golden sling bikini that barely qualified as clothing. Two thin straps of metallic cloth rose from a narrow triangle between her legs, crossed under the full weight of her breasts, and continued over her shoulders in a design that seemed engineered to fail at any moment. Every shift of her weight made the heavy tits threaten to spill completely free. The rear string had ridden into a deep, deliberate wedgie; her outer labia framed the golden strip on either side, soft and shamelessly visible. The entire ensemble left less to the imagination than simple nudity while somehow looking more intentional, more expensive, and far more provocative.

(https://im.ge/i/QMpPeLz)
(artist: miyu)

She was already flushed. Her eyes carried the glassy, heated look of a woman who had spent the voyage in a losing battle with her own conditioning. Pale, dried streaks still clung to the inner slopes of her thighs — the clear residue of more than one unassisted climax on the open water. The moment she saw Aether the last of her political composure thinned into open, hungry warmth.

“Welcome aboard,” she said, voice rich and slightly rough.
“I decided a vacation of my own was in order. I trust no one objects to the company.”

Rosaria’s hand dropped from her face. She stared at the golden sling, at the way Ningguang’s nipples were already outlined against the thin fabric, at the unmistakable evidence that the Tianquan had been touching herself the entire journey, and let out a long, defeated breath through her teeth.

Even she could see there was no point pretending otherwise when the woman who ruled Liyue from the Jade Chamber had arrived looking like she was one deep breath away from bending over the nearest railing and begging.