Wine from Her Lips

He could clearly see the pussy of the woman sucking Lan's cock — shaved pink, dripping delicious white liquid down toward her thighs, lips puffy from arousal that training and lust had braided together. A thin string of her wetness stretched from her clit toward the sheets and broke.

Her buttocks were perfectly round and shaped, a younger echo of a mature beauty he had only just finished enjoying in Jinling. Her long black hair spread across her back like a dark river, parted by sweat along the line of her spine. Her small waist bent into a perfect arch, sticking her ass out as if presenting it for inspection.

The pink pucker of her asshole was visible between her cheeks, tight and neat, and looking at it while remembering how her mother's had stretched around his cock made Xuan Wu's hands curl into fists at his sides. She was Yan Ling, the most beautiful of the five.

Daughter of Yan Tian and Yan Mei. Taken as disciple by Grand Elder Lan years ago, when her talent first bloomed and the main sect's hand closed around the Yan branch's most precious resource. From the back view she looked amazing — like a younger version of Yan Mei, the same full, high roundness in the ass, the same elegant line of spine, the same dangerous beauty that made men forget politics.

After seeing the mother's body — after fucking that mother's pussy and then claiming her asshole while Elder Li filled her throat — Xuan Wu could read the daughter's shape with cruel clarity. Same flare of hip. Same dimples above the ass.

Same way of holding tension in the shoulders even while the mouth worked. Mother and daughter were top beauties in the demonic sect, two generations of lush bodies and devastating faces, and standing in this room looking at one while remembering the other was a particular kind of intoxication that no spirit wine could match.

Yan Ling was an adult now, twenty-one, already past the age when a Yan daughter stopped being called a girl in any room that mattered, and the body bent over Lan's cock was every inch a woman's. Firm breasts swaying under her. A waist he could span with both hands. Thighs that trembled with effort and arousal. A pussy so wet it shone in the lamplight like lacquer.

The four other disciples were also from big families — talent and bloodlines carefully harvested, beauty selected the way a jeweler selected stones. Liu Ying with the light-purple hair, pale as milk, twenty-two, a body made for sitting on chair arms and transferring wine.

Li Ying of the Li family, brown hair falling over her slim back, twenty-three, tongue precise as a calligrapher's brush. Wang Yue of the Liu family, black hair, the largest breasts of the five, currently pressed against Lan's ribs as she licked, twenty-four and already famous in the outer belts for a body that started fights.

Li Na with the golden hair, the youngest of the five at twenty, licking his left foot with the same devoted focus as the others, adult and trained and far past the age when anyone with sense used the word child in the same sentence as her name. All four licked the old man without resistance. Yan Ling led them with her sucking technique, lips wet, cheeks hollowed, throat taking Lan's thick cock deeper on every bob.

Xuan Wu watched, unable not to. She took him to the root on every third stroke, nose buried in the gray hair at his base, throat working visibly around the thick shaft. Spit ran down over his balls and dripped onto the sheets between her knees.

When she pulled back, the head of Lan's cock left her mouth with a wet sound and a long string of spit, and she licked the underside from base to tip before taking him again. Her breasts swayed under her with the motion. Her nipples brushed the silk. Behind her, her pussy was so wet that a thin line of arousal had already reached her knee.

Slrrp.

Slrrp.

Glk.

In the beginning Yan Ling had resisted a little — clenched jaw, wet eyes, the stubborn pride of a Yan daughter who had grown up watching her mother command rooms with a glance. Grand Elder Lan had trained that pride the way a smith trained metal: heat, pressure, repetition.

The first months had been tears and locked jaws and a gu worm that sang pain through her meridians every time she refused. The middle months had been something worse — the discovery that her body could be trained to want what her pride hated.

The later months had been the settling of that war into a kind of peace that was not peace at all: she sucked because the worm required it, and she came because her body had learned to, and somewhere under both of those facts a third fact lived that she did not look at directly.

Gu worm obedience made refusal a kind of suicide; pleasure made obedience addictive. Now she sucked — eyes half-lidded, pussy leaking, body trained to find pleasure in service. Spit ran in shiny strings from her stretched lips to Lan's shaft.

Each time she took him deep, her breasts swung down and brushed the sheets and her nipples dragged pink lines of sensation across silk. A wet, rhythmic suction filled the room with every bob of her head. Her free hand cupped his balls and rolled them gently, a technique he had taught her.

Slrrp.

Slrrp.

Xuan Wu had known the outlines of this arrangement for years. Seeing it was different. Seeing Yan Mei's daughter on her knees with her throat full of Lan's cock, while the memory of Yan Mei's asshole still lived in his own cock's recent memory, was a particular kind of demonic poetry that made him both harder and more careful. Senior brother's gifts were never free. Senior brother's displays were never accidental.

Looking at those five gorgeous women with this old-looking man, any male disciple in the sect would feel sadness and jealousy climb his throat like poison. All five were top-notch beauties with countless followers outside. Only a few powerful people ever enjoyed them.

Except the two door guards — loyal to Lan, always waiting for a visitor like Elder Xuan Wu so they could peek inside. Earlier one guard had gotten a clear view of all five naked bodies: hanging breasts, dripping pussies, Yan Ling's lips wrapped around their master's cock. That was why his dick had been erect when he came out to deliver permission.

Elder Xuan Wu wished to fuck them. Courage did not stretch that far. Distributing Grand Elder Lan's fun time was a short road to a long death. He clasped his hands lightly and spoke with the respect of a junior brother who knew exactly where the knife edges were.

"I have visited the place you told me," he said, "and I had a great time there. Thank you, senior brother."

He did not mention Yan Mei.

Yan Ling was right there, mouth full of Lan's cock, spit shining on her chin. Grand Elder Lan had promised to keep her family safe in return for her loyalty. Saying I fucked your mother until her asshole gushed would not improve the wine. Lan looked at him with eyes that were old and sharp and amused, and pressed Yan Ling's head down from above, forcing his dick deep into her throat.

She could not resist. Her nose kissed his pubic hair. Her throat convulsed around the thick intrusion. Her eyes watered. A soft choking sound escaped around the shaft — glk, glk — and a thin line of spit ran from the corner of her stretched lips down over her chin.

Lan held her there for a long breath, then another, watching Xuan Wu over her bent head with those old amused eyes, then came hard into her mouth.

Thick pulses. Xuan Wu could see her throat working as she swallowed. Her cheeks bulged for a heartbeat. Her hands, which had been braced on Lan's thighs, tightened until her knuckles went white. She swallowed every drop without spilling, with a trained, obedient greed, until a single white bead escaped the corner of her mouth and she caught it with her tongue without being told.

Her pussy leaked more juice from behind while the other four kept licking his chest and feet without pause, as if nothing had happened, as if their sister-disciple choking on their master's cum was simply the weather of the room.

Xuan Wu's cock thickened in his robes until it ached.

He smelled the musk of fresh cum and young pussy in the same breath — the sharp salt of Lan's release, the sweeter wetness dripping from five shaved cunts, the wine, the incense, the dense qi that made every smell richer. Yan Ling pulled off Lan's cock with a wet pop.

A thin white thread connected her lower lip to the tip for a heartbeat before she licked it away and swallowed again, throat working, eyes glassy with the aftershock of being used. Spit and cum shone on her chin. Her lips were swollen. A bead of her own arousal slid from her pink cunt down the inner curve of one thigh and hung there shining before it dropped to the sheets.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, glanced once toward the visitor without quite meeting his eyes — and in that glance Xuan Wu saw, for a fraction of a second, the Yan pride that Lan had spent years hammering into obedience — and waited for her master's next order the way a well-trained disciple waited.

Xuan Wu sat down at the side of the bed as invited, breath careful, eyes hungry, palms flat on his knees so he would not reach.

Lan sat up on the corner of the bed, legs hanging outside, his majestic dick still big after cumming once — shiny with Yan Ling's spit, heavy, the kind of cock that made young women blush even when they were already naked. All five disciples sat on the bed.

Two began massaging his shoulders, breasts pressing warm against his back, nipples dragging lightly over his skin. Two went down off the bed and stood to the side, naked and waiting, hands folded, pink nipples stiff in the cool qi-dense air. Yan Ling cleaned her mouth with a silk scrap, took a wine jug and glass from the side table, and went to Elder Xuan Wu.

Serving drinks was her job right now.

She poured. The wine was dark and sweet-smelling, the kind of mountain vintage that cost more than a branch elder's monthly stipend, and her hands were steady despite everything that had just been done to her mouth.

She offered the glass with both hands, head slightly bowed, black hair falling forward over one bare shoulder. A drop of something — spit or cum or wine — still shone at the corner of her lip, and she did not seem to know it was there.

While she served, Xuan Wu looked at her beautiful breasts — not as big as her mother's enormous curves, but sizable, firm with youth, pointy pink nipples making them look more sexy under the lamplight. A faint sheen of sweat still clung to the valley between them.

When she breathed, they rose and fell, and the motion was so like Yan Mei's that for a heartbeat he was back in Jinling with his cock in the mother's ass and Elder Li's cock in the mother's throat.

Her face was as beautiful as Yan Mei's, a younger cut of the same devastating blade, and looking at it while remembering the mother's face broken open around his cock made something ugly and hungry twist in Xuan Wu's gut. Mother and daughter, the same blood and the same beauty, and one he had fucked. One he was watching serve wine with cum still on her breath.

He took the glass. His fingers brushed hers. She did not look at him.

After serving Xuan Wu she went to Grand Elder Lan, filled another glass, and did not hand it to him.

She drank a little herself, held it, leaned in, and put her mouth on his.

Transferring the wine. Sweetening it with her spit and the leftover taste of his own cum. Lan drank from her mouth like a man sampling nectar, slow and thorough, his tongue pushing into hers to take every drop. His hand came up and cupped one of her breasts while he drank, thumb rolling the nipple in lazy circles, and she made a small sound into his mouth.

When the wine was gone he kept kissing her for another long moment, and her hand — Xuan Wu watched this carefully — came up and rested on Lan's chest the way a lover's hand rested, not a prisoner's. Training. Or something that had grown in the soil training left behind. Either way, it made Xuan Wu's cock throb.

Lan released her mouth. A string of spit connected them for a heartbeat. Yan Ling licked her lips and waited.

Xuan Wu watched his senior brother enjoy those young women and felt the world's lesson settle again: power meant five top-notch beauties serving an old man at their grandfather's age. All five had given their virginities to him on this peak, on this bed or one like it, in ceremonies that the outer sect pretended were profound dual-cultivation rites and that the inner sect knew were simply the price of living this close to the summit.

It was a prime example of what cultivation rank bought in a demonic sect. Xuan Wu had Xuan Wei, who was a feast. Lan had five feasts who also happened to be among the most talented cultivators of their generation. The arithmetic was not fair. The arithmetic was the point.

Grand Elder Lan glanced at Xuan Wu's obvious erection under the robes, then looked at a woman standing on his left.

"Serve Elder Xuan Wu, Liu Ying."

Liu Ying walked toward him.

She was beautiful among the top five — light-purple hair falling to the small of her back, a supple body, flawless skin, a slim waist that dipped when she moved. Top-five beauty of the sect, countless male followers dreaming of her smile in outer courtyards and inner corridors alike.

She took his glass, sat on the side arm of his chair naked, and let the warm length of her body lean into him from the side. Her white ass rested on the chair arm, split slightly by the hard wood, the cheeks spreading warm against his hip.

Her beautiful breasts squeezed his arm from the other side, nipples dragging lightly over his sleeve. The weight of her was warm and real and almost enough to make him forget whose disciple she was.

She drank wine herself, holding a mouthful, then leaned and put her lips on his.

Warm transfer. Her tongue brushed his as the wine flowed from her mouth into his, sweet and dark, mixed with her spit. The intimate service of a woman trained for elders. Her breath was sweet. When her tongue touched his more deliberately, a small tremor went through her that might have been training and might have been real.

She pulled back, lips shiny, and filled her mouth again, and came back for a second transfer, and this time she let the kiss last longer than the wine required. Xuan Wu's hand tightened on her waist. She made a tiny sound into his mouth.

Elder Xuan Wu held her slim waist with one hand and felt the heat of her through his palm. When she shifted on the chair arm, her ass cheeks parted further and the warm, settling weight of her pressed more intimately against his hip.

He felt the damp heat of her pussy brush his outer robe once — accidental or not — a warm wet kiss of flesh against silk, and his cock jerked hard enough that she must have felt the motion through the cloth. Her eyes flicked down to the tent in his robes, then back up to his face, and something that was not quite a smile touched her mouth.

Her wine-sweet mouth found his again, her tongue sliding slow and wet against his, and her breath hitched when his fingers tightened on her waist. She was worthy of being a top-class beauty. Under his palm her skin was smooth and warm, and when he let his thumb stroke once along the underside of her breast she made a tiny sound into the kiss.

Her nipple hardened against his sleeve. A fresh bead of her wetness soaked through to his skin. She shifted again on the chair arm, and this time the brush of her pussy against him was definitely not accidental — a slow deliberate drag of damp heat along his hip that made his cock throb and his jaw lock. He controlled himself.

He focused on Grand Elder Lan. Fucking Lan's personal disciple in Lan's own room without invitation was a fantasy that ended in gu-worm agony — soul pain, public shame, maybe death dressed as an accident on a training peak.

Xuan Wu had survived this long by knowing which hungers to feed and which to swallow. He swallowed. Liu Ying's breast kept its warm, heavy pressure on his arm. He drank the wine she mouthed to him and tasted only discipline underneath the sweetness. His cock stayed hard.

His hand stayed on her waist and did not travel lower. She sat on the chair arm with her pussy damp against his robe and served him wine from her mouth as if that were the most ordinary thing in the world, and perhaps in this room it was.

They talked about the past and interesting new events while the five served — shoulders massaged, wine refreshed, naked thighs brushing furniture, bare breasts occasionally offered as armrests without anyone calling it that.

Lan asked about Jinling's branch politics in the tone of a man discussing weather.

How was the Merchant Association's tribute this year. Had the Cao family produced any new talent worth watching. Was Yan Tian still as cold as his reputation, or had the years softened him. Xuan Wu answered with carefully pruned truths: hospitality adequate, Yan Tian reliable, the branch still useful as a buffer against the outer territories. The Merchant Association was fat and obedient.

The Cao family's daughter was a promising Qi Refining talent with silver hair and a face that drew eyes across a room. Yan Tian was still cold — colder, perhaps, in public — though Xuan Wu had seen something else in the man's eyes during the private games.

He mentioned the academy exam season without mentioning how Yan Mei's asshole had felt around his cock. He praised the wine. He praised the mountain's qi. He did not praise the mother of the woman currently wiping her lips beside the bed.

"The Yan branch remains loyal," Xuan Wu said. "Yan Tian knows his place. The family is stable."

"And the wife?" Lan asked, mild as tea.

Xuan Wu's cup paused halfway to his mouth. Liu Ying's thigh tensed against his hip. Yan Ling's tongue, working over Lan's cock, did not pause — but something in the line of her shoulders went still for a fraction of a second.

"Lady Yan Mei is as beautiful as the stories say," Xuan Wu said carefully. "A credit to the branch. Heavenly Realm first. Other clan leaders still envy Yan Tian for her."

Lan smiled. "Good. Beauty is a kind of resource. It should be... appreciated."

Lan's questions stayed light after that. His eyes did not. Something sat behind them — calculation, amusement, a private joke. The senior brother who had sent him to the Yan family listened to the report of that visit as if checking a move on a board only he could see.

Xuan Wu filed the question about the wife away in the same locked box as the motive for the trip, and drank his wine, and did not look at Yan Ling's face. Once he gestured, and Yan Ling knelt again between his knees and cleaned his cock with slow tongue strokes while the conversation continued over her bent back.

Her round ass pointed toward Xuan Wu like an unanswered invitation. From where he sat he could see everything: the pink pucker of her asshole, the shaved pout of her pussy still dripping, the way her thighs trembled slightly as she worked. Spit shone on Lan's shaft. Yan Ling's eyes were half-closed.

Her tongue moved in long slow strokes from base to tip, then circled the head, then took him into her mouth again and held him there while Lan asked Xuan Wu about the Merchant Association's latest tribute. Xuan Wu answered. His voice was almost steady. Yan Ling's pussy dripped onto the carpet between her knees, and a small dark spot was spreading there.

Liu Ying's ass stayed warm on the chair arm. One of the foot-lickers — Li Na, golden hair falling over her bare shoulders, twenty years old and already trained to the bone — brought fresh wine and refilled the jug without being asked. Her breasts were smaller than Wang Yue's, high and firm, nipples pink.

When she bent to pour, Xuan Wu's eyes dropped for a heartbeat to the shadowed cleft of her ass, then forced themselves back to Lan's face. Wang Yue wiped sweat from Lan's chest with her own heavy breasts, sliding them over his skin until he chuckled and pinched one of her nipples hard enough to make her gasp.

She gasped and then smiled and pushed her breast back into his hand. Li Ying massaged Lan's shoulders from behind, her brown hair brushing his ear, her pussy leaving a faint damp print on the sheets where she knelt.

Time stretched in the thick qi like honey. Xuan Wu drank. Liu Ying mouthed more wine to him, and this time when she transferred it she let her hand rest on the hard shape of his cock through his robes for three full heartbeats before taking it away.

His cock ached. He did not fuck her. The discipline of that choice was its own kind of pleasure, bitter and sharp, and Lan's amused eyes said he knew exactly what his junior brother was swallowing.

When the discussion ended, Elder Xuan Wu stood, offered formal goodbye, and left before his self-control frayed further.

Liu Ying slid off the chair arm with a soft sound of skin leaving wood. A thin string of her arousal connected her pussy to his robe for a heartbeat before it broke, and she blushed — the first real crack in the trained composure he had seen from her all evening.

Yan Ling bowed her head without rising from her knees, lips still shiny, a drop of spit hanging from her chin. Lan waved him out with two fingers and a smile that promised nothing and implied everything.

"Give my regards to your wife," Lan said. "She is a patient woman."

Xuan Wu bowed and left.