Ch. 35 – A Few More Minutes

Rhys was floating in a total, heavy haze. The cocktail of high-proof magical elixirs, the suffocating heat of the enclosed marble stall, and the sheer physical toll of the night had thoroughly unanchored his reality. His body felt simultaneously leaden and weightless. He raised a hand, trying to weakly signal a pause—trying to utter a raspy, coherent “wait”—but the word died in his throat before it could cross his lips.

Rhea didn’t wait for permission. In a sudden, fluid blur of motion, the statuesque Earth Genasi moved with a terrifying, raw strength Rhys hadn’t fully appreciated until that exact moment. Sliding down onto her knees on the cold tile, her massive, muscular hands slid beneath his thighs, gripping him with absolute leverage. With effortless, staggering power, Rhea lifted Rhys clean off his feet, suspending his lower half entirely in mid-air.

Before Rhys could even process the sudden loss of gravity, Rhea opened her mouth and swallowed his throbbing length whole.

Rhys gasped, a violent shudder tearing through his entire spine as her large, burning-hot lips fully enclosed him. She gripped his thighs like iron bands, holding his hips suspended above the floor while her head began a rhythmic, ravenous bobbing motion. Her wet, tight mouth cleaned him up with desperate, hypnotic efficiency, the sheer suction and heat making Rhys’s knees weak, even though they weren’t even supporting his weight.

Across the stall, Vespera watched the display with a slow, dark tilt of her head. A low, wicked laugh escaped her throat, her slitted amber eyes glinting with genuine, dark impression. The sight of the gentle suburban neighbor acting like a ravenous beast for her former nemesis was intoxicating. Getting excited herself, Vespera reached into her obsidian clutch with one hand while her long, muscular tail reached out, deftly flicking a costly gold lighter to ignite a slender dark cigarette between her lips. Blowing a plume of sweet, aromatic smoke toward the ceiling, Vespera used her free hand to slowly, deliberately slide beneath the hem of her dark dress, feeling her own scalding wetness as she revelled in the debauchery unfolding before her.

Rhys was getting completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure, his mind swimming in white noise. He tried to push himself back, to brace his hands against the wall and pull away from Rhea’s intense mouth, but gravity and her iron grip worked relentlessly against him. He was trapped in mid-air, completely at her mercy.

THUD. THUD.

A sudden, sharp voice echoed through the thick wooden door, cutting through the heavy, wet sounds of the stall like a physical blade.

“Vespera?! Hey... Vespera, are you okay in there?”

It was Marcus. He was calling out from the main corridor of the VIP restroom, his voice laced with genuine, earnest concern.

A sickening pang of deep, suffocating guilt slammed into Rhys’s chest, instantly cutting through the warm fog of alcohol. His best friend—a good, noble man who believed he was performing a chivalrous duty for a lady in distress—was standing just feet away on the other side of the door. Rhys realized with a crushing weight that he couldn’t escape this nightmare any more than Marcus could escape being manipulated. The pure, agonizing humiliation of making his loyal friend wait outside, guarding the door to his own wife’s boss’s secret harem, made Rhys’s stomach churn.

Vespera’s amber eyes locked directly onto Rhys’s dazed, panicked gaze as Marcus kept shouting through the door. Still smoking her cigarette, her tail casually flicking, Vespera took a slow step toward Rhys—who was still held aloft by Rhea, his hips trembling as the Genasi woman continued to swallow him whole.

Vespera leaned in close to Rhys’s flushed face, her voice dropping into a mocking, silent mouth-shape: “Are you alright, hero?”

“Vespera?!” Marcus’s voice rose significantly, sounding much closer to the stall now. “I hear some really weird noises in there! Is it an emergency?! If you’re sick or passed out, I’m coming in right now!”

Panic exploded in Rhys’s chest like a bomb. Marcus was a hero at heart. If he thought someone was in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate to burst through that stall door, thinking he was saving the day—only to walk in on his best friend suspended in mid-air, surrounded by naked, spent women, being actively taken in by a neighbor.

Vespera looked at Rhys, her smile growing razor-sharp. She leaned in, her smoky breath brushing his cheek as she whispered, “Time is running painfully thin, hero. You better satisfy them quick, or your little friend breaks that door down.”

Turning toward the door, Vespera yelled out in a remarkably convincing, breathless, frail voice, “I-It’s alright, Marcus! Please, do not come in! I... I would be utterly mortified if you saw me in such a terrible, ‘sick’ state. Just give me a few more minutes!”

Outside, Marcus paused. “Oh... okay! Okay, I understand,” his voice echoed back, relieved but resolute. “Take your time! I’ll stand right here and make sure no one bothers you.”

Vespera turned back to Rhys, blowing a cloud of gray smoke over his chest. “I bought you a little more time,” she purred darkly. “Use it wisely.”

Rhys glared at her with pure, unadulterated venom, his jaw clenching so hard his teeth creaked. But that furious, desperate anger didn’t break him—it acted as an explosive second wind. The sheer adrenaline of the deadline, combined with the absurdity of the situation, ignited something dark and primal deep within him.