The air in the moonlit garden was thick and heavy, smelling of crushed roses and the raw, musky scent of aether-fueled lust. From behind the rose bushes, **Isolde** watched with wide, diamond-blue eyes. She was paralyzed, her hand pressed against her mouth to stifle a whimper as she witnessed the "Master" in his element.
Caelum stood between the two women like a dark god. He didn't rush. He started with **Seraphina**, pulling the honey-skinned Prefect against him. He turned her around, her back to his chest, and used his hands to hike up her skirt. Her heavy, firm butt cheeks bounced as he kneaded them, his gold aether leaving glowing handprints on her skin.
"Watch, Isolde," Caelum whispered into the wind, knowing her silver ears were straining to hear.
He didn't enter Seraphina yet. Instead, he dropped her to her knees. Seraphina, her magenta aether pulsing with a desperate hunger, unfastened his trousers with trembling hands. She took him into her mouth with a wet, greedy sound, her heavy breasts swaying and rubbing against his thighs as she worked.
Isolde gasped, her own legs crossing tightly. She could see the veins on Caelum's neck pop as Seraphina's tongue created a high-pressure vacuum.
Just as Seraphina brought him to the brink, Caelum pulled back, leaving her gasping and slick with saliva. He turned to **Lyra**, who was already leaning against the marble fountain, her legs spread wide and her chest heaving so hard her tunic threatened to rip.
"Your turn, little bird," Caelum groaned.
He lifted Lyra's legs, hooking them over his shoulders. As he guided himself in, the sound was a sharp, wet *squelch*. He slid into her slick, over-primed heat with one smooth motion. Lyra's scream was muffled by her own hand, her eyes rolling back as her teal aether exploded in a shower of sparks.
Caelum began to drive into her with a rhythmic, pounding force. Every thrust made a wet *slap* of skin on skin that echoed in the quiet garden.
While he was buried deep in Lyra, **Seraphina** crawled behind him. She didn't stop her work. She reached around Caelum's waist, her hands sliding down to where he was joined with Lyra, her fingers playing with the point of entry, mixing her magenta energy with their teal and gold. She leaned forward, her heavy, sweating breasts rubbing against Caelum's back, her mouth finding the sensitive skin of his neck to suck and bite.
Isolde was losing her mind. She was huddled behind the bush, her fingers slick as she worked them frantically under her own skirt. She watched the way the sweat flew off Caelum's back with every thrust, the way Lyra's breasts bounced and jiggled with the violence of his movement, and the way the three energies—Gold, Teal, and Magenta—began to swirl into a blinding violet vortex.
The friction reached a boiling point. The air smelled of ozone and sex.
"Now!" Caelum roared, his gold aether surging.
He delivered three final, devastating thrusts, burying himself to the hilt in Lyra. At the same moment, Seraphina's hands and mouth worked in a frenzy on his skin. A shockwave of pure energy ripped through the clearing. Lyra's insides clamped down on him, her body shaking in a massive, wet climax that flooded them both.
As the three of them collapsed into a tangled, panting heap, Caelum looked toward the bush. He stood up, his body glistening with a cocktail of sweat and fluids. He didn't hide his hardness or the mess of the encounter.
He caught Isolde's gaze and gave her a slow, dark smirk. He reached down, wiped a drop of Lyra's nectar from his thigh, and licked it off his finger while staring Isolde down.
He gave her a slow, knowing wink.
Isolde let out a choked sob. She turned and fled, her heart hammering, her silk panties soaked through and clinging to her skin. She had come to see a commoner; she left having seen a King.