Viktor pulled his clothes back on, the fabric clinging slightly to his still-damp skin. The incubus mark on his lower abdomen pulsed with a fading, sated violet light as he fastened his trousers.

He didn’t bother drying off completely; the lingering heat from the pond and the adrenaline of the ambush were enough to keep the forest chill at bay.

They walked.

The path was uneven, heavily rutted with old wagon tracks and overgrown with dense ferns. Lira took the lead, her surviving crew falling into a loose, wary formation around them.

Gwen walked a half-step ahead of him, her silver-blonde hair dripping slowly down her back, the wet material of her dress plastered to the sharp, elegant curve of her hips.

"So," Viktor said, his voice a low, unhurried rumble that cut through the crunch of their boots. "Viscount Harfield."

Lira didn’t turn around, but her shoulders stiffened. The dried, sticky remnants of his cum were still faintly visible on her collar. "What about him?"

"Executed," Viktor stated flatly. "By the Ktorian duchy, right inside Redwood county."

Lira hacked at a low-hanging branch with her dagger. "News travels fast. Yeah. The old bastard got messy with his politics. They took his head. Left the territory in chaos."

"And his daughter," Viktor continued, his dark eyes tracking the sway of the trees. "Elena. Sent off to the academy in the capital city. Out of the way. Safe, but entirely useless for managing the land."

"Which leaves the mistress," Lira muttered, a bitter edge to her voice. "A naive, soft woman who doesn’t know the first thing about logistics, taxes, or border control. The territory’s grip loosened the second she took over. Made it damn easy for us to slip in, claim the woods, and set up our den."

Viktor sighed. A deep, heavy sound.

In the end, he knew that housewife-type, thick MILF auntie wouldn’t be able to do anything. With Elena already sent to the capital, the mistress was completely isolated. She was a woman built for luxurious parlors and soft bedsheets, not for the cutthroat pressure of managing a fractured territory surrounded by vultures. But he didn’t expect her to be drowning under this much pressure currently.

Naturally, he would help her. In his own way.

Just thinking about that woman—her heavy, maternal breasts spilling out of tight corsets, the wide, birthing hips that used to sway with such demanding authority when she walked—made a sudden, sharp heat flood Viktor’s lower abdomen. He had a massive crush on her when he was a child. He used to imagine what those thick, mature thighs would feel like wrapped around his waist, how her soft, plush body would yield to him.

Though that was another thing entirely.

Ignoring the sudden spike of heat, he lowered his gaze. His eyes naturally locked onto the view right in front of him. Lira and Gwen.

’I really like MILFs,’ he thought, a slow, wicked smirk tugging at his lips.

The reason he thought that right now was simple: he was currently watching two incredibly tight asses swing in perfect, hypnotic rhythm.

They weren’t overly heavy or massively wide, but they swung with the sharp, calculated grace of runway models.

Lira’s tight, worn jeans hugged her plump cheeks so securely that every step strained the denim, tracing the cleft of her ass with agonizing clarity.

Gwen’s wet skirt clung to her elven perfection, the fabric dipping into the valley between her cheeks, swaying with that innate, arrogant elegance.

Still, as he watched them, his incubus mind analyzed the physics.

He knew clapping those firm, model-like asses and banging them wouldn’t make him enjoy it to the absolute limit.

It would be tight, sure.

But he liked it when he fucked Mira or Helena.

Their asses were heavy, plush, and demanding—literally jiggling and clapping back against his hips with wet, resounding smacks, as if the flesh itself was enjoying his brutal poundings, rippling like water with every deep thrust.

Throb.

His cock gave an involuntary, violent pulse. The sheer imagery of his wives’ jiggling flesh, combined with the lingering scent of sex from the pond and the swinging asses in front of him, caused his member to swell to its full, ridiculous thickness, pushing the fabric of his pants out into a highly visible, undeniable tent.

’wgat the hell.’ 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Lira had turned slightly to check the path behind them, and her hazel eyes immediately dropped. She froze mid-step. Her mouth twitched. She stared at the massive, strained bulge pressing aggressively against the front of his trousers, the sheer size of it defying logic.

A flush of deep crimson exploded across her cheeks.

’He’s aroused. Right now. While we’re just walking?!’ she screamed internally. Who knows what degenerate, filthy things he was thinking about, undressing her with those dark, violet-edged eyes.

Her mouth twitched again, a nervous, involuntary spasm, and she quickly reached back, her hand slapping over her own ass to cover it.

Even though she was wearing thick jeans, she felt he was really poking her ass through his eyes, undressing her or something.

Gwen noticed the sudden shift in Lira’s posture. The elf followed the bandit’s gaze, her violet eyes dropping to Viktor’s crotch.

She gasped softly.

Gwen immediately flushed her face, crimson, as she bit her lips hard. She swiftly turned her head away, completely avoiding his face, her pointed ears burning hot.

’Animals. Men are all absolute animals,’ she chanted in her mind, though her own thighs rubbed together, friction building against her suddenly damp core.

They walked in a heavy, sexually charged silence until the trees began to thin, revealing a massive clearing hidden against the base of a rocky cliff.

It was a bandit den, but not the kind Viktor expected.

Instead of torture racks and stolen gold piled high, there were sturdy wooden structures, neatly thatched roofs, and the smell of a stew simmering over a massive central fire pit. As they emerged from the treeline, the crude wooden gates swung open.

People started coming out.

Not hardened killers. Small children with dirt-smudged faces. Old men leaning on canes. Women in tattered but clean dresses.

"Captain! You’re back!" a little boy yelled, running up to Lira and hugging her thigh, completely ignoring the dangerous weapons she carried.

"Have you brought some food? Leader," an old woman asked, her voice raspy but hopeful, calling the fierce bandit captain ’Leader’ with absolute reverence.

Lira’s hardened exterior melted instantly. Her voice softened, losing all its venom. "Of course we did. We got some pig."