The common room of Trail's End hummed with a rare morning quiet, the kind that settled like dust after a storm.
Sunlight streamed through open windows, bathing the scarred tables in warm gold and glinting off the polished bar.
The hearth crackled softly, its embers casting flickering shadows.
The air carried the lingering scent of fresh bread, cured meat, and the faint tang of spilled ale from last night's revelry.
Rin sprawled across a bench near the bar, one leg slung over the armrest, a mug of honeyed tea steaming in her hand.
Her loose trousers and open vest barely clung to her frame, the fabric gaping to reveal the curve of her breasts, still marked by faint bruises from Kio's teeth.
Her tail flicked lazily, each twitch radiating smug satisfaction, her golden eyes gleaming like a wolf sated but hungry for trouble.
Lira slipped through the door, her entrance as silent as a shadow's glide.
The elf rogue moved with fluid grace, her silver hair braided tightly over one shoulder, emerald eyes cool and guarded.
Her leathers hugged her slender frame, worn but meticulously maintained, the kind of armor that whispered of narrow escapes and sharper blades.
Then her gaze met Rin's.
Rin's grin was all teeth, predatory and playful. "Well, well. The bar grew ears."
Lira's eyebrow arched, her lips twitching. "Yours are still twitching like you're in heat."
Rin sipped her tea, slow and smug. "Always am when I've been fucked right."
Lira's eyes flicked downward, her nostrils flaring faintly. "I can smell it on you."
"Then you're welcome," Rin purred, her tail giving a teasing wag.
Lira crossed to the counter, her steps soundless, and nodded at Kio, who stood wiping a knife with a cloth, his movements steady and unhurried.
"Morning," she said, her tone civil but clipped.
Kio nodded, his dark eyes meeting hers. "You're late."
"Pass was blocked. Wards tripped. I disabled them."
"You take the back cliff?"
"Of course."
He set the knife down, his gaze lingering on her for a heartbeat longer than usual. "Next time, wrap your boots in pitchcloth. Your prints drag."
Lira blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
Rin barked a laugh from her bench, her mug clinking against the table. "He caught your trail, elf."
Lira turned slowly, her smirk sharp as a dagger's edge. "Maybe I wanted to be followed."
Rin's eyes glinted, her voice dropping to a sultry growl. "Oh? Hoping to be tied up and fucked like a good little infiltrator?"
Kio cleared his throat—once, soft, but heavy with intent.
The room stilled.
Rin sat up, her tail freezing mid-flick. Lira didn't move, but her shoulders eased, her emerald eyes darting sideways.
Kio stepped from behind the bar, his presence filling the space without effort.
He stood between them, hands relaxed at his sides, his voice low, calm, a thread of iron beneath the velvet.
"Rin. Good girls don't brag."
Rin's cheeks flushed, her ears pinning back slightly.
Lira's smirk faltered, her throat bobbing.
"And good girls," Kio continued, turning to Lira, his gaze unwavering, "don't stoke jealousy before they've earned their turn."
Rin's mug hit the table with a faint thud.
Lira's fingers tightened around her own drink, her knuckles whitening.
Silence settled, thick as the morning heat.
Rin rose slowly, her movements careful, and stepped toward Kio, her golden eyes lowered.
"Sorry, Kio," she murmured, her voice soft but genuine.
He nodded once. "Better."
His hand lifted, a single finger tracing her cheek before brushing the bite mark on her collarbone, the touch light but possessive. "You'll apologize to her later."
"Yes, Kio," Rin said, her tail giving a small, submissive wag.
Kio turned to Lira, his eyes locking onto hers, steady and unyielding. "You're here to rest. Not to provoke."
"I didn't—" Lira started, then stopped, her jaw clenching.
She exhaled sharply, her shoulders slumping a fraction.
Kio didn't press.
He returned to the bar, picking up the knife and resuming his task as if the moment had dissolved into the morning light.
Rin sank back onto her bench, quieter now, her tea forgotten.
Lira took her drink to a corner table, her gaze distant, fingers tapping idly against the mug.
Neither spoke.
But the air between them hummed with the same unspoken truth: Kio hadn't raised his voice, hadn't touched them in anger, yet they'd obeyed.
And deep down, in the heat pooling low in their bellies, they craved it.