Chapter 61 - Pillow Talk

As the first vibrant hues of dawn filtered through the cracks in the stable's walls, Aden found himself basking in the warm afterglow, Indry's supple form nestled against his own. A comfortable quiet settled between them as they indulged in post-coital pillow talk, trading whispered confidences and intimate secrets.Aden's gaze traced the gentle contours of Indry's face as she regaled him with tantalizing tales of her own illicit dalliances—furtive trysts with rugged sailors during a sojourn in the port city of Havenmoor. With each salacious detail, he felt his desire for her deepen, a primal hunger igniting within the core of his being.There was something utterly intoxicating about a devoted wife harboring such deliciously wanton proclivities. Indry defied his expectations at every turn, her quiet sensuality and melancholic air concealing a wellspring of carnal delights."Not like what you expected?" she murmured, her lips brushing against the stubbled line of his jaw.Aden could only shake his head, his throat constricting with a potent blend of lust and wonderment."You expected me to be wild in the bedchamber, didn't you?" There was a teasing lilt to her tone, her fingers tracing idle patterns across the planes of his chest.His nod was enough to answer, prompting a soft chuckle from her kiss-swollen lips. Indry shifted, draping her lithe form over his as she gazed down at him with heavy-lidded eyes."Do you think me a despicable wife?" she breathed, the words laced with both challenge and vulnerability. "A naughty woman?""No," Aden was quick to reassure her, his fingers carding through her tousled tresses. "Quite the contrary, I understand." A roguish grin curved his mouth as he elaborated, "My own mother was a nympho."Indry's eyes widened at the admission, her brow arching in a silent prompt for him to continue."Is it what I think it is?" she ventured, and Aden could only nod."Yes, she could finish three men simultaneously."A delighted giggle burst forth from Indry's lips as she settled more comfortably atop him, her curiosity piqued. "Is she pretty?""The prettiest woman in my life," Aden affirmed without hesitation."What's her name?""Sira."Indry's teeth sank into her plush lower lip as she mulled over the name. "Was she as pretty as Lady Light?"Aden's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar moniker. "I don't know who that is," he confessed, "but I can tell you, my mother was prettier than she."Indry's eyes danced with mirth as she pressed, "Tell me, tell me more about her little adventures."As if sensing his hesitation, she shifted her weight atop him, a subtle reminder of her presence. "Well?" she prodded. "She was a devoted wife at home, but when you visited the city..."A wistful smile tugged at the corners of Aden's mouth as he began to divulge the secrets he had harbored for so long. "In Median, a harlot—or a 'hur' as we called them—would wear a face veil. So no one could recognize her when she...serviced men in the pleasure districts."Indry was enraptured, drinking in every salacious detail as Aden laid bare the truth about his mother's illicit forays into the flesh trade. As the words spilled forth, a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, the burden of keeping such lurid knowledge to himself dissipating with each confession.Perhaps, he mused, this unburdening was a means of reassuring Indry, of assuaging any lingering guilt or shame she might harbor over her own indiscretions. Or perhaps, in the depths of his psyche, he simply yearned to share this piece of himself with someone who could understand, who could appreciate the complexities and contradictions that had shaped his perspectives on intimacy."I wish I had her courage," Indry whispered, her breath hot against his skin. "To walk the pleasure streets and let men grope me, their hands roaming my most private places."Aden's fingers traced the delicate curve of her spine as he rumbled, "You could if you wished it."A coy smile played across Indry's lips. "But we don't wear face veils in these lands.""I could find you one," he countered without missing a beat. "An ox, if you prefer the Median term."Her resultant giggle was pure, unbridled delight. "I would love that," she purred, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss.For a breathless eternity, they lost themselves in the dizzying ebb and flow of passion, tongues dancing, hands roaming with possessive fervor. It was Indry who eventually broke away, breathless and flushed with ardor as she slipped from his embrace.Aden watched, mesmerized, as she rose to her feet, all feline grace and tousled beauty. There was a sultry sway to her hips as she gathered her rumpled garments, casting him a smoldering look over her shoulder.As Indry began redressing, gathering her rumpled garments with deft fingers, a hint of reluctance flickered across her features."I think I should go back," she murmured, her gaze flickering towards the stable doors. "I'm afraid Jasmine or Agnes will start looking for me soon."Aden could all too easily picture the worried furrow of the little girl's brow, her innocent curiosity giving way to concern for her missing mother. With a resigned nod, he acknowledged the wisdom in Indry's words."Yeah, you should go."Yet, even as she prepared to depart, Indry's eyes danced with the promise of future trysts, her lips curving into a coy smile. "After all of this, I promise my legs will remain open for you whenever you desire."Her fingers raked through her tousled tresses, restoring some semblance of order to the silver strands as Aden posed the inevitable question. "What about your husband?"Indry's dismissive wave was answered enough. "Don't mind him."A fleeting thought crossed Aden's mind—perhaps her husband was one of those meek, acquiescent men who turned a blind eye to his wife's indiscretions, content to maintain the facade of propriety as long as her dalliances remained discreet. It was a notion he was all too familiar with, his own mother having been an open wife in her youth.As if sensing the direction of his musings, Indry closed the distance between them, her fingers trailing along the stubbled line of his jaw as she captured his lips in a lingering kiss. When they parted, her eyes smoldered with unmistakable promise. "Before breakfast?" she breathed, the invitation implicit in those two simple words.Aden could only nod, his throat constricting with a potent blend of desire and anticipation. Indry's answering smile was radiant, her teeth sinking into her plush lower lip as he allowed his hands to roam, squeezing the firm curves of her backside in a final, possessive caress.With a reluctant sigh, they parted ways, emerging from the shadowed sanctuary of the stable and stepping back into the waking world. Yet, even as they distanced themselves, adopting an air of polite indifference, Aden couldn't help but revel in the delicious thrill of their secret.A forbidden affair with another man's wife—the notion alone was enough to set his blood simmering, each heated glance and whispered endearment only fanning the flames higher. This was a dance as old as time itself, a high-stakes game of clandestine passions and stolen moments, and Aden found himself utterly ensnared by its intoxicating allure.As he watched Indry's swaying hips disappear around a corner, a roguish grin tugged at his lips. The day stretched before him, rife with possibilities, each one more tantalizing than the last.The world was his oyster, and Aden intended to savor every last pearl.⁕⁕⁕Before breakfast, Aden woke up early and just like the two promised, they had a quickie with Indry at the stable. standing doggy position while Indry held onto the edge of the haystack. She only exposed her roundish breasts and her dress hung on her waist. Aden was in the mood they had to do it missionary on the haystack in the end.Martin watched outside like a castle guard protecting the royalty in the palace. Aden couldn't give him anything but his utmost gratitude. Aden swore he would get Martin a nice harlot or two in the brothel.Aden refreshed himself with chilling water after his quick one with Indry. He headed to the dining hall to get a breakfast. It was already vacant, and only a few villagers ate their breakfast. The menu was a soup with bread just like yesterday.The bread was not as good as it was. Maybe Laura and Eugene were in a hurry after they had steamy sex in the Silent Forest's glade. They might be too tired and wake up late and have to speed up the baking process.Aden came to the counter, he deliberately waited for Laura to serve him the meal but it was Agnes who served him his breakfast."Thanks," said Aden to Agnes. Agnes just gave him a cute smile and a teasing glance at Laura.Laura didn't serve Aden's meal like before. Aden tried to make eye contact with Laura but she looked angry at Aden and kept avoiding him like a plague.Is she jealous? Did she know about me and Indry? Aden thought. Maybe she returned to her daily self and was just shy because Aden saw her act with her husband in the forest last night.He made eye contact with Laura's husband instead. Aden nodded, just a gesture of man-to-man respect.Aden still respects Eugene although he doesn't know the husband much.He left the kitchen counter and joined at one of the tables with Maeda who now eating with a pair of chopsticks. His chopsticks were shorter than the one people of Essen continent from Tian Yuan used to have. This is how to differentiate between three major cultures and people in the Essen world.The mainland uses longer chopsticks, the Morning Land people use metal chopsticks, while the Hi-on people, where Maeda came from, use wooden shorter chopsticks.The ronin sat at the long table with the rest of the rescue party but he seemed detached. reserved. Maybe it was because language barrier or culture.Aden spoke Wessen's common tongue with no problem because he used to visit Arumia with his parents when he was a boy. People of Arumia talk mostly in Wessen's common tongue while they also speak another language.Perhaps because of geographical factors the Median people were commonly visiting trade cities or seaport cities, unlike the people of Hi-on from Maeda came from. The cultural assimilation of Median with Wessen couldn't be avoided especially in the time of the Great Crusade.The morning sun cast its gilded rays across the bustling village of Serendale, filtering through the swaying branches of the trees and creating soft pillars of dappled light that danced across the well-trodden paths. In the front yard, the air was alive with the sounds of preparation, the clanging of steel, and the murmured cadences of limbering exercises as the defenders readied themselves for another day on the front lines.Aden emerged from the dining hall, his steps heavy with the lingering fatigue of the night's exertions. Though his body still thrummed with the echoes of forbidden delights, he knew better than to reveal the true nature of his weariness. Instead, he offered a sheepish smile and a murmured excuse about a troubled sleep to any who inquired about his languid gait.As the stretching rituals drew to a close and the rhythmic creaks of donning armor filled the air, young Phil's voice cut through the bustle, laced with a note of disquiet. "Hey, look! There are no harpies!"Aden's head swiveled skyward, his gaze narrowing as he scanned the vast expanse of azure overhead. Sure enough, not a single feathered form marred the pristine canvas, a stark contrast to the relentless aerial assaults that had become a grim certainty in recent days.A frisson of unease rippled through him as he considered the implications of this unnatural calm. From his encounters with the harpies thus far, he had come to regard them as relentless, cunning adversaries, their strategic prowess rivaling even the most seasoned military tacticians.For them to withdraw their aerial presence so abruptly could only mean one thing – they were conspiring, plotting their next move with an unsettling degree of calculation. Aden's jaw tightened as he surveyed the skies once more, his gaze hardening with grim resolve.Whatever machinations were unfolding behind the scenes, whatever twisted schemes the harpies had concocted, the rescue party would face them head-on, their determination steeled by the bitter lessons of past battles. And should the winged terrors dare to show their faces once more, the village's formidable hwachas would greet them with a warm embrace of shearing arrows."Aden!"The familiar voice of Oliver cut through his musings, drawing his attention to the young squire-in-training who had proven himself an invaluable asset in the village's defense efforts. The lad's expression was a mixture of urgency and barely contained excitement, prompting Aden to arch a questioning brow."War room?"Oliver's eyes widened in surprise before a broad grin split his features. "Yes! How did you know?"A wry chuckle rumbled in Aden's throat as he beckoned the eager youth to lead the way. "Let's just say I have a knack for anticipating such matters."⁕⁕⁕