Zeno's pov, he calls Mara while she is getting destroyed by his dad's cock

The Grocery Interruption

The fluorescent lights of the supermarket buzzed overhead, casting sterile white glare across the crowded aisles. Zeno adjusted his grip on the shopping cart, the young man's knuckles whitening around the handle as another shopper bumped past him without apology.

"Damn, people have really no manners these days..."

The store was packed—Saturday morning rush, all harried mothers and impatient couples—and the noise pressed against his skull like a physical weight.

God, he hated crowds.

Mara always knew how to calm him down in situations like this. Her hand would slip into his, the pale beauty's thumb tracing soothing circles against his palm as she leaned in to whisper something ridiculous—"That lady’s hair looks like she just got out of her **** bed, baby"—just to make him laugh.

"Well, she has some really dark humor too..."

But today, his sweet girlfriend wasn’t here.

And he missed her.

He glanced down at the grocery list again, the neat cursive looping across the page in Mara’s familiar handwriting. Organic free-range eggs. Almond milk (unsweetened). Grass-fed butter. Simple enough. But then—pasta sauce (????)—with four question marks, like she’d been interrupted mid-thought. And—coconut yogurt (blueberry or vanilla???)—another hesitation.

Zeno sighed, running a hand through his hair.

She’d meant to be here for this.

They’d talked about it just last night, curled up on the couch together, Mara’s legs draped over his lap as she scrolled through recipes on her phone. "We should meal prep together," she’d said, her eyes bright with that domestic excitement he loved. "Like a real couple, you know?"

And he did know. He wanted that with her—the shared chores, the mundane intimacy of deciding between brands of spaghetti sauce. But today, she was home with Dad.

Taking care of family is just as domestic and important, he reminded himself, squaring his shoulders.

Still.

He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over her contact. She wouldn’t mind if he called, right? Just a quick question. She’d want him to get the right stuff.

The line rang.

And rang.

And—

"Zeno?"

His father’s voice, rough and slightly breathless, crackled through the speaker.

Zeno blinked.

Why was Dad answering Mara’s phone?

In the background, a high-pitched moan—Mara’s voice, unmistakable—followed by a wet, rhythmic slapping noise.

The cuck’s grip on the phone tightened.

"Uh. Dad?" He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly in the middle of the cereal aisle. "Is Mara there? I had some shopping questions."

Another moan, louder this time, and then—

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Mara’s voice, frantic and strained, like she was—

Working out?

Zeno’s brow furrowed.

Dad chuckled, the sound low and smug. "Hang on, boy."

The phone muffled, like it had been pressed against fabric, but the noises didn’t stop—gasping, whimpering, the slick squelch of skin on skin. And then—

"Baby?" Mara’s voice, suddenly close again, but shaky, like she was out of breath. "What do you—OH!! AH!!!"

A thud, like something—or someone—had been slammed into.

Zeno’s stomach lurched. "Mara? Are you okay??"

Silence. Then—

"Uuuuuh yeah, f-fuck, of course I am." Her words slurred slightly, her voice thick with something he couldn’t place. "You know what we’re up to right now, so I’m sure… Fuck, I’m sure you know I’m doing great."

Zeno exhaled.

Yoga.

It had to be. Mara was always pushing herself too hard in those stretches, groaning about her hips or her hamstrings afterward. And Dad was probably spotting her, helping her hold a pose. That’s why she sounded so—

"I just had a couple questions about groceries," he started, but Mara wasn’t listening.

"Fuck, just like that—OH MY GOD! YES, E-ETTORE!"

Zeno froze.

That wasn’t a yoga noise.

That was—

"Mara?" His voice came out thin, uncertain.

"Huh? Zeno, oh right, uh… Fuck, ummm, god, I can’t even think." A sharp gasp, then a whimper. "What did you ask me about again?"

"Groceries," Zeno said slowly, his pulse hammering in his ears. "I needed to know if—"

"Fuck, I’m way too busy right now, honey. I can’t think about groceries." Her words were slurred, her breathing ragged. "Can’t you just handle it?"

Zeno’s throat tightened.

Was she… mad at him?

Or—

No.

She was just focused on Dad. Making sure he felt welcome. That’s what Zeno had asked her to do, right?

"Okay, Mara," he murmured, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. "I’m sorry I—"

The line went dead.

Zeno stood there for a long moment, the phone still pressed to his ear, the canned supermarket music suddenly deafening.

Then he shoved the device back into his pocket, gripping the cart handle with both hands.

Just finish the shopping.

Get home.

Everything’s fine.

The Raven’s Training

Mara’s phone clattered to the floor, forgotten as Ettore’s hands dug into her hips, yanking her back onto his cock with a snarl.

"That’s it, baby," he growled, his voice layered with the demon’s guttural purr. "Let him hear you."

Mara sobbed, her fingers clawing at the sheets as he pounded into her, his thick length stretching her to the brink.

She’d just—

She’d talked to Zeno while—

Oh god.

"N-No," she whimpered, her body arching as Ettore angled deeper, the head of his cock grinding against her spot. "I c-can’t—"

"You can," Ettore corrected, his claws scraping down her spine. "And you will."

His hips snapped forward, hilting himself with a groan.

Mara screamed, her vision whiting out as her orgasm ripped through her, her cunt clenching around him in helpless pleasure.

"G-Good girl," Ettore panted, his thrusts stuttering as he filled her, his seed spilling into her in thick, pulsing ropes.

Mara collapsed, her face pressed into the mattress, her body trembling as the demon’s corruption seeped deeper.

Zeno had heard.

He’d heard everything.

And he’d—

He’d just kept talking.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like this was normal.

A broken whimper escaped the voluptuous vixen's luscious red lips.

Ettore laughed, his fingers tangling in her hair as he yanked her upright, his lips brushing her ear.

"He knows, baby," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. "And he doesn’t care."

Mara’s breath hitched.

No.

That wasn’t—

But the pulse behind her eyes swallowed the protest, the warmth in her belly coiling tighter.

"Again," the demon commanded.

And her body obeyed.

The Cuckold’s Return

Zeno hummed as he unpacked the groceries, the thumps and moans from the bedroom nothing more than white noise to his conditioned ears.

Dad must be stretching again.

Good for him.

He smiled, setting the steak in the fridge before whistling his way to the couch.

Mara was gonna be such a good wife.