The sands of the native desert

The scent of this little female played with his imagination. His lungs filled with this fragrance. A mixture of perfume, a sweat's malt, and natural femininity. It penetrated the depths of his being, awakening primitive desires, ready to burst free. Just add a little force... " Your skin is as hot as the sands of the native desert... " There it is, minx! Laughter bubbled in his chest. His throat was dry, and the Rogue could barely find words. A confession of love? He was stunned and simultaneously amazed by her frivolity. Would everything be so easy? And she pretended to be a bastion of chastity... " Thank you? " A lash of the whip. She doesn't know the true meaning of those words. Vearo scrutinized her intensely. Trying to catch sparks of lust or deceit in her eyes that could confirm his suspicions. It didn't resemble the cruel game of teasing that other women had often played. It wasn't a game, nor pretense. She was serious. Her chatter was sincere, full of pure feeling. Fucking gratitude. He was silent, but his inner world was boiling like a volcano, ready to erupt. If only the healer hinted that she understood what was said, he wouldn't have to piece together his self-control. So ingenuous. Innocent. How difficult it was to resist. Damn it! He wanted to explain, make her understand, but possessiveness won out. " Don’t you dare say this to anyone else now. Got it? Ignorance doesn’t absolve responsibility. " All that was left was to roar with hunger and revel in her closeness. The vision became blurry, and only the pounding of his own pulse echoed in his ears, intensifying with every breath. He hadn't noticed his penchant for self-torment before. His mind screamed, warning him of potential problems, but Vearo was already on the brink of collapse. He felt Marcelinne drifting on the waves of Morpheus. For the better, that she managed to fall asleep. Hearing her peaceful breathing, his boiling blood began to cool. She saved his life, didn't she? And he didn't ruin hers, though he could have. Adding two and two together, Vearo concluded that they were now even. Attention is drawn to the rustling sounds from the bushes. They are uneven and intermittent. As if something is trying to break through them but failing at the first attempt. The man, not releasing his partner from his embrace, his other hand resting on her shoulders, reaches for the knife at his thigh. If he's lucky, he'll kill the intruder with a single throw of the dagger. The rustling gets louder as it approaches them, and Vearo prepares for action. His eyes gleam in the darkness, ready to meet the enemy. Just a little more. He has already swung, calculating the flight direction, but hesitates upon seeing the familiar tuft of Miko'te's head. Her figure streaks past them, heading towards the center of the camp, dragging behind her a huge carcass of a beast resembling an overfed lemur. - What the... - Folk, look at this huge mouse I caught! - She was extremely pleased with herself until she noticed the clenched blade. Her smile instantly disappeared, giving way to confusion. - Wow! What a warm welcome. Hey, don't play around with your file like that - you might cut yourself. Vearo angrily shushes her, signaling to be quieter. Just what they needed. Fixing her gaze on the couple embracing under the tree, Ruri grins. It seems like new entertainment for this sultry evening didn't even need to be sought out. Seizing the prey, she, with the same sharp jerks, drags it further away from the campfire, to the coolest spot, so it wouldn't spoil by morning. - Well, well, well... what do we have here? - The predator inhales, busying herself with creating a shelter of leaves for her trophy. - Did I miss all the fun?! The Raen remains silent. If he ignores her, maybe he'll be lucky enough to avoid being interrogated with biases. - Oh, looks like not. - she washes her hands from the dried blood and dirt, pouring water from a wineskin over them. Splashing some more onto her palms, it's the turn for her face. - Why the silence? - Have some decency, she just fell asleep. - his lips tightened into a thin line. That was true, but only partly. Hiding behind the White Mage's silhouette, he concealed not yet subsided excitement. How the girl, pressed against him with her whole body, didn't feel his tension in his pants remained a mystery. - Oh, I have her, don't worry. - another ambiguous chuckle. Ruri lazily moves towards them, demonstratively swaying her hips. - Seems like the big guy has big troubles? That's what he was afraid of. Taunting, adding fuel to the fire. His thoughts run in all directions, and he struggles to remain calm and collected. We could help each other out. - Miko'te stops next to them, studying, superiority in her eyes. - You know, out of old friendship, but I'm afraid it'll wake up our sleeping beauty. Infuriating. Vearo can't help but grind his teeth, clenching his jaw. - Well, don't be angry. Just wait. He watches as Ruri kneels down in front of the girl, saddling her outstretched legs. Hellcat! - What do you think you're doing?! The man wishes the Marauder would stop her antics, but at the same time, he can't tear his gaze away from the spectacle. She lies on top of the Conjurer, provocatively sliding her chest, clad in a leather vest, along her bare thighs. She lifts the edge of Marcelinne's skirt with her claws and slips her hand underneath, delving into forbidden areas. Xaela emits a strange sound, vaguely resembling a moan. - I can do this and nothing will happen to me. Cats always sleep in the best spot. Envious? Father of Dawn, have mercy. - Bliss... - The Marauder noisily inhales her scent, burying her nose in the folds of the sleeping girl's skirt. She savors this intoxicating sensation of omnipotence. - Do you want her too? - Stop being such a pain in the ass. - Would you prefer it in the front? - her eyes sparkle with challenge as she addresses Vearo. This night promises to be long.

A little later, in the tavern...

- Marshmallow, let's go take a bath? - grabbing the healer's hand, Ruri pulls her towards the bathroom. She uses all her dirty tricks to persuade Marcelinne. - You'll help me wash my hair, won't you? They need special attention. Sounds of resistance. - What? Are you shy? Oh, nonsense! - circling around Marcelinne from behind, Miko'te nudges her towards the passage. - We girls have to stick together. The Marauder quickly turns around, sticking her tongue out at Vearo and slamming the door, unaware of him rolling his eyes and grimly smacking himself on the forehead. She hasn't won yet.