Xuan Wei's Bed

Outside the door, Xuan Wei and the two guards were waiting.

She was leaning against the pillar where he had left her, arms folded under her breasts, travel robes doing nothing to hide the mature curves that had made Jinling's gambling-house crowds stare. The two guards stood at their posts with their spears, and both of them were still visibly hard under their armor skirts.

They had been hard when Xuan Wu went in. They were hard now. Whatever they had glimpsed through the door — five naked bodies, Yan Ling's mouth, the wet sounds — had been enough to keep them that way for the entire visit, and looking at Xuan Wei afterward had not helped.

The guards stared at his wife with lustful looks — Xuan Wei's mature curves under travel robes, the known rumor of her beauty, the simple fact that she belonged to an elder they could not touch. One guard adjusted his stance so the armor skirt hid less rather than more, as if hoping she would notice.

The other swallowed hard enough that his throat clicked. Xuan Wei glanced at both erections, then at her husband, and her mouth curved in a smile that was almost pity and almost invitation and entirely under her control.

Xuan Wu smiled at the guards, the smile of a man who understood hunger and owned his own feast, and put a possessive hand on the small of Xuan Wei's back that made both guards look away.

"Tell your master the wine was excellent," Xuan Wu said.

"Yes, Elder," the younger guard managed, voice cracking slightly.

Xuan Wei laughed under her breath as they walked away, and the sound of it followed them down the first stretch of mountain path like a small private victory.

He still did not understand why Grand Elder Lan had asked him to visit the Yan family.

Even though he had gotten to fuck Yan Mei because of it — her slippery pussy, her asshole, her broken horny face — the motive sat behind Lan's old eyes like a locked box. Why send an inner elder to a branch clan for "hospitality"?

Why point him specifically at that household, that wife, that daughter's parents? Lan had Yan Ling's loyalty already, sealed with a gu worm and years of training and the promise of family safety. What did fucking the mother add to the board?

A message to Yan Tian? A test of Xuan Wu's discretion — which he had passed by not mentioning Yan Mei in front of her daughter? A move in some longer game involving the Yan branch's place under the main sect's shadow, or Yan Ling's future, or the academy exam season itself?

Lan had listened to the pruned report the way a go player listens to an opponent describe a move they do not realize they have already lost. The puzzle itched behind Xuan Wu's eyes the way an unsolved formation itch did. He had survived decades in the demonic hierarchy by noticing when he was a piece on someone else's board. Tonight he was sure he was a piece. He just could not see the shape of the game.

Right now, though, itch lost to heat.

He was horny after seeing those five naked beauties inside — Yan Ling's throat working, Liu Ying's wet brush against his robe, four other perfect asses raised like offerings, Wang Yue's heavy breasts sliding over an old man's chest, Li Na's golden hair falling across bare shoulders as she licked.

The images stacked behind his eyes the way pages stacked in a filthy book: Yan Ling's cheeks bulging around Lan's cock, the white bead she caught with her tongue, Liu Ying's deliberate drag of damp pussy against his hip, the way Li Na had bent to pour and shown him everything between her thighs for a heartbeat. His cock was so hard it hurt. Walking was an exercise in not looking ridiculous.

He looked at his wife, took her hand, and started toward his residence in the inner disciple area, already imagining how he would use her body to burn off the image. Bend Xuan Wei over their bed. Spread her mature ass with both hands.

Spit on her asshole and her pussy and choose which one to fuck first while remembering a younger mouth and a chair-arm cushion of warm, pale cheeks. Put her on her knees and fuck her throat the way Lan had fucked Yan Ling's, holding her hair, watching her eyes water, coming on her tongue and making her show him before she swallowed.

Xuan Wei felt the intent in his grip — the heat of it, the specific shape of it — and smiled a small private smile of her own. She had survived worse hungers. She had survived Jinling.

She would survive this one with her legs open and her moans honest, and afterward she would ask him, lazily, whether Liu Ying's ass had been as soft as it looked, and he would tell her or he would not, and either way she would laugh.

The mountain path down from Lan's peak was quieter than the city. Night insects sang in the spirit trees. Spirit lanterns floated along the inner-disciple roads like tame stars, casting pools of gold on the stone. Somewhere below them an outer disciple was being shouted at by a senior for a form done wrong; the shout echoed up the mountain and faded.

The air was cooler here than in Lan's qi-dense chamber, and the coolness made Xuan Wu more aware of the heat still throbbing under his robes. Every step made his hard cock rub against the fabric. Every brush of Xuan Wei's hip made it worse.

Xuan Wei walked close enough that her hip brushed his. She could smell the arousal on him — wine, naked women, the unfinished hunger of a man who had watched and not touched. She did not ask what he had seen.

In their marriage, questions were sometimes less useful than a bed and an open mouth. She had waited outside with two erect guards staring at her chest. She had smelled the sex when the door opened. She knew the shape of her husband's hungers the way she knew the shape of her own.

"That long?" she said only, mild.

"Long enough," he said.

"The five?"

He glanced at her. She was smiling that private smile. Of course she knew. Everyone with sense in the inner belt knew what Lan's personal disciples were for.

"The five," he said.

She laughed under her breath and lengthened her stride to match his. "Then take me home before you do something stupid on this path. I did not wait three days on a spirit sword to watch you get gu-wormed for touching the wrong ass."

A night bird called once from the spirit trees. Xuan Wu glanced back at the closed lacquer gates and felt, not for the first time, that Grand Elder Lan's hospitality was a blade wrapped in silk. He had eaten well in Jinling. He had been allowed to look — and almost touch — here. Neither gift was free.

In the demonic sect, free gifts did not exist; they only waited for payment. He squeezed Xuan Wei's hand harder and lengthened his stride toward home, toward a bed, toward the temporary relief of fucking his wife until the images of five naked disciples blurred into heat and sweat and the ordinary loyalty of a marriage built on shared appetite.

Their residence sat halfway down the inner-disciple belt, a comfortable house with its own small courtyard and a bed that had seen more games than most gambling houses. Spirit lanterns hung under the eaves. The smell of the peak's night flowers drifted through the open window. Xuan Wu pushed the door open with his shoulder, pulled Xuan Wei inside, and had her against the wall before the latch finished clicking.

Her travel robes came open under his hands. Her mature breasts spilled into his palms — heavier than Liu Ying's, softer than Yan Ling's, familiar and his.

He squeezed them hard enough to make her gasp, thumbs rolling the nipples until they stood stiff, then bent and sucked one into his mouth the way he had watched Yan Ling's mouth work, rough and claiming. Xuan Wei's head fell back against the wall. Her hand found his hard cock through his robes and squeezed.

"That bad?" she murmured.

"Worse," he said against her breast, and spun her around, bent her over the nearest table, and yanked her lower robes down to her knees.

Her ass was round and familiar and already pushing back toward him. The pale cheeks flexed. The dark cleft between them. He spat on his fingers, rubbed the spit over her pussy, and found her already wet — she had been wet since the guards stared, since she smelled the sex on him coming out of Lan's door, since she felt the intent in his grip on the mountain path.

Two fingers pushed into her. She moaned and pushed back onto them. He fingered her for half a minute, curling, wet sounds filling the quiet house, then pulled his fingers out, wiped them on her ass cheek, freed his cock, and pushed into her in one long thrust that made the table legs scrape on the floor.

Plap.

She moaned into her arm. He held still buried to the root, feeling her pussy flutter and adjust around him, then pulled almost out and slammed back in.

Plap!

Plap! Plap! Plap!

He fucked her hard and without patience, hips slamming, fingers sinking into the flesh of her ass hard enough to leave marks, eyes half-closed on the memory of Yan Ling's throat working and Liu Ying's damp heat against his robe and five perfect asses raised in a line on an old man's bed.

Xuan Wei took it openly, loudly, with her pussy clenching around him and her moans climbing toward a climax she did not bother to delay. Her breasts swung under her with every thrust, heavy mature weights dragging across the tabletop. Her pussy squelched. A string of her wetness ran down her thigh.

"Harder," she said, laughing breathlessly. "If you're going to fuck me thinking about them, at least fuck me properly."

He did. He hauled her hips back onto him and drove in so deep the table jumped. Her moan went high and broken. He reached under her and found her clit and rubbed it in tight circles while he fucked her, and she came hard around him with a cry that the neighbors might have heard if the neighbors had been foolish enough to listen to an inner elder's house.

Her pussy milking him pulled him over the edge. He came inside her with a groan that was half Yan Ling's name and half nothing at all, thick pulses flooding her, hips jerking through the aftershocks while she laughed breathlessly into the wood of the table and squeezed every drop out of him.

He stayed buried in her for a long moment after, breathing hard, forehead against her back, the images of five naked disciples finally blurring into the heat and sweat and familiar smell of his own wife. Her pussy fluttered around him in aftershocks.

A drop of their mixed fluids ran down the inside of her thigh and dripped onto the floorboards. Outside the window a spirit lantern bobbed in the night wind. Inside, for a few breaths, there was only the sound of two people breathing.

Xuan Wei reached back and patted his hip once, lazy and affectionate. "Out. Before you fall asleep on top of me like last time in the southern camp."

He pulled out slowly, watching his cock leave her, watching her pussy stay open for a moment and then close, a thick white bead of his cum welling at her entrance.

She straightened, turned, and the sight of her — mature, flushed, travel robes shoved down to her knees, his cum starting to run down her thigh — was almost enough to get him hard again. Almost. The five had taken the edge off by proxy. His wife had finished the job.

Behind them, miles up the mountain, the mansion doors of Grand Elder Lan's peak stayed closed.

Inside, Lan gestured, and five naked disciples returned to the bed like trained petals closing around a flower's heart. Yan Ling's lips found his cock again, slower now, cleaning and soothing rather than working toward another climax.

Liu Ying's slim body pressed to his side, the dampness between her thighs still fresh from sitting on a junior brother's chair arm, and when Lan's hand found her pussy she opened her legs for him without a word. Wang Yue offered her heavy breasts as a pillow, and he rested his head on them and pinched her nipple absently while Yan Ling sucked.

Li Ying and Li Na curled at his feet, waiting, Li Na's golden hair spilled across his ankle, Li Ying's brown hair across the other. The room smelled of sex and wine and the particular contentment of a man who owned exactly what he wanted.

Lan looked at the ceiling and thought about Jinling.

About a branch clan leader with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter. About an inner elder who had just reported hospitality without mentioning the shape of that hospitality. About an academy exam season and five doors and the pieces on a board that only he could see. He smiled.

Yan Ling's mouth was warm. Liu Ying's pussy was wet under his fingers. Through the thick qi, the old man smiled.

Xuan Wu pulled out of his wife, watched his cum drip down her thigh in a thick white line, and thought about locked boxes and senior brothers' smiles, and did not find any answers that made the itch go away. Xuan Wei straightened up from the table, turned, and kissed him with the taste of their sex still on both of them. Her hand found his cock, sticky and softening, and stroked it once in a promise.

"Bath," she said. "Then bed. Then you can tell me what you saw, or not. I already know most of it."

He laughed, short and rough, and followed her toward their bath, the itch still sitting behind his eyes, the heat finally banked enough to let him think.