[Oathran: Yes. Good. Now... thrust forward...]

...?

They were... right in front of him...?

He still could not see them since the Presence Concealing Ring held firm, wrapping Oathran and Cecilia in their bubble of nonexistence, but he could feel them.

Cecilia’s pleasure and Oathran’s focus.

Right there.

His wife was right there.

THRUST—

Arkai’s hips moved before he could think. His brain was empty now, no thought. Just the need that had been building since the first phantom sensation strangled him mid-wine at his own birthday banquet.

"Aaaahhhh—sss—"

The sound he made was obscene. A hiss of pure, animal satisfaction as his cock punched into something that made rational thought curl up and die in a dark corner of his mind.

Wet.

Tight.

Home.

It was unmistakable, this maddening, gripping heat of Cecilia’s pussy, swallowing him whole. The familiar clench and ripple, the way her body welcomed and resisted in the same breath, the rhythm of her inner walls fluttering around him.

He would know this pussy blind.

But then—

The moment his cock slid home, the world flickered. Color bled into empty air. Shapes resolved from nothingness.

He could see them.

Oh, gods—

Cecilia’s arms started to wrap themselves around his nape, her fingers threading into his hair, her body arching against him in a way that made her spine curve like a drawn bow. Her lips found his, not kissing, exactly, but breathing him in, panting against his mouth, her eyes glazed and wild.

"Arkai..."

And behind her, Oathran.

The dragon’s long white hair was disheveled, his divine composure cracked. His hands were anchored on Cecilia’s hips, holding her steady, holding her in place, while one of his own cocks was buried deep in her other hole.

Arkai could feel him through the bond, the tight, silken pressure of Cecilia’s back channel gripping his elder brother, the way she clenched around both of them simultaneously like she was trying to merge them into one overwhelming sensation.

Everything hit Arkai’s hindbrain. The dragon in the back, the wolf in the front, and Cecilia between them, collecting every form of pleasure the world had to offer.

[She is—hnn—quite full, is she not?] Oathran’s mental voice was strained. [Greedy little saintess.]

[Mmph—]

Arkai felt her clench around him in response to Oathran’s words and his vision went white at the edges.

[Mmmmm—] Arkai bit back a moan. His cock fluttered and spasmed inside.

[Focus. Do not finish in thirty seconds like a pup on his first heat.] Oathran whispered in their minds.

She squeezed again, and Arkai saw stars.

[Wear the ring.] Oathran said. The telepathic command cut through the haze. Oathran’s hand, reaching around, sliding something cool and metallic onto his finger. The Presence Concealing Ring. Another one.

Another one?

Ah. All three of them were now invisible.

[When did you have this many rings...?] Arkai asked mentally. His hips had stopped moving, temporarily, as his brain tried to process the logistics. [I thought you could only have one...?]

Cecilia moaned.

Real sound. And Arkai had a mini heart attack. He looked at Oathran and saw the look in his Elder Brother’s eyes.

Ohh. Arkai understood why he had not been able to hear or perceive her before. The ring’s enchantment was paired with something else. An airtight barrier of sound and scent. Nothing escaped, no gasp, no moan. No telltale aroma of sex and sweat and the musk of Cecilia’s arousal.

[I got... more of them...] Cecilia said, her mind broken into syllables by the rhythm of being impaled from both ends. Her forehead rested against Arkai’s collarbone, her breath hot and damp through the fabric of his tunic. [When I tried to get... your skills and weapons...]

Her hips rocked. Involuntarily. Sliding herself onto both of them in a motion that made Arkai’s eyes shake.

She had spent a crazy amount of pulls from the last Scenario Banner, after all. Fifteen 50/50 losses. Fifteen times the gacha had spat out something she had not wanted, and fifteen times she had accepted the consolation prize.

From those losses, she had gotten four more Presence Concealing Rings. Four. Plus whatever else the banner had thrown at her from the standard five-star pool.

Which meant she had six Presence Concealing Rings in total, since she already had two.

She could have ranked them up. Combined them into a single, more powerful artifact. A Rank 6 ring that would have been a masterwork of concealment magic.

But then she would only have one ring.

Cecilia had done the math and decided that six weaker rings were infinitely more useful than one overpowered one. So she had given one to Oathran to study. And still held the five rest, waiting for the right moment to deploy them.

She could not believe that she had ended up using one each for herself and Arkai to...

To...

"Mmmm!"

Thrust—"Ahh!"

She had turned a rare magical artifact into a sex toy. She had weaponized her gacha losses for the express purpose of letting her husbands rail her in semi-public without getting caught.

[Cecilia, should I get rid of the sound barrier?] Oathran offered.

[No...!] Cecilia gasped, immediately refusing. [Nooo... Oathran...]

Her body clenched around both of them simultaneously, an involuntary, full-bodied spasm that wrenched a groan from Arkai’s throat and made Oathran’s rhythm falter for just a heartbeat.

Whether she was panicking at the idea of being heard, or panicking at how much the idea aroused her, or some catastrophic combination of both, she could not have said.

[We do not even need the ring, you know?] Oathran asked patiently, like a demon’s tempting whisper, his tone deceptively reasonable and simple.

[We don’t need the barriers. Not even the rings, my love. Nothing. We can go to the town square and fuck, and I can use my Dragon Tongue to convince everyone that it is entirely normal.]

Cecilia’s eyes faltered. That—

[Just a man and a woman and another man, enjoying the afternoon. Nothing to see. Nothing to question. I said so, and so it is.]

Oh, gods.

The scenario unfolded in Cecilia’s mind vividly, painted in the fever-bright colors. She saw it.

The town square of Iondora Capital, sun still high—

Winter-bright and bustling, merchants hawking their wares, people bundled in furs gossiping on stone benches. The grey sky overhead, the bite of cold air, the hundred small sounds of a city going about its business.

And there. Right there. In the center of the square, beside the frozen fountain where lovers met and pickpockets worked and priests occasionally gave sermons on morality and restraint.\

Three figures.

Oathran’s white wings spread wide, catching the winter light like fresh snow framing an obscene act occurring beneath them. His hips rolled with the slow, inexorable rhythm of a tide, buried deep in her from behind while her body arched forward into Arkai’s chest.

Arkai’s hands were on her hips, his head thrown back, his throat working around sounds that the Dragon Tongue had convinced everyone were entirely unremarkable.

And she was between them, filled from both ends, her mouth open in a silent wail of pleasure that no one seemed to hear.

And the people—

The people walked past.

A merchant glanced over, nodded politely, perhaps, and continued haggling over wool prices. A woman might pause, smiling vaguely and left.

Two temple acolytes in their grey robes bowed respectfully to Arkai, if they recognized him, and moved on, discussing the evening’s meal rotation. No one stared. No one screamed. No one even fucking blinked.

Because the Dragon Tongue said it was normal. And when a divine white dragon said something was normal, reality itself reshaped to accommodate.

But Cecilia knew.

Somewhere beneath the magic, beneath the ancient power of the Dragon Tongue smoothing over their perception, the image was entering them. Their eyes saw it. Their brains registered it.

Some primal, lizard-deep part of them understood what was happening in the town square, even if the understanding could never surface.

Perhaps they would dream of it later. Perhaps they would feel an inexplicable flush of heat when passing the fountain. Perhaps some part of them would always know.

"—Aaaahhhh..."

The sound escaped Cecilia’s throat before she could stop it, a moan that was half horror, half helpless arousal, her body convulsing around both of her husbands as the imagination dissolved.

[Ohhh... That is tight...]

Arkai’s mental voice was rough, strained. He had caught fragments of her imagination through the bond and was reeling from them.

His hips snapped forward brutally, his instinct to thrust, burying himself to the hilt, took over.

She felt him twitch inside her, his cock spasming, and she felt the way her body rippled around him in response. His own imagination had joined hers.

He saw the town square. The same square, the same fountain, the same oblivious crowds. But in Arkai’s vision, the details shifted.

The people were not just strangers, they were his people. Anton paused mid-conversation with a wine merchant, glanced over, and gave Arkai a thumbs up.

Lady Drusilla walked past with her two casks, her lower half swishing its tail, and called out something about "finally loosening up, you stiff bastard." Lord Vladik materialized from a shadow, took one look at the scene, and nodded.

"Cousin," Anton’s voice boomed across the square, "I knew you had it in you! Also, your form is excellent! Very straight back! Very—hmm... I’m just saying, but the angle could be—"

Both Arkai and Cecilia had their faces red now, and Oathran chuckled, enjoying it all. Everyone’s own imagination had just betrayed them so thoroughly.

[Do you like doing things without being seen...]

THRUST.

[Or do you like being seen...]

THRUST.

[...while people do not realize what they are seeing? Hmm?]

Oathran’s mental voice was a growl now, each word punctuated by a snap of his hips that made her see stars behind her eyelids.

[Our...]

His cock dragged against every sensitive ridge inside her.

[Saintess...]

THRUST—

[Loves...]

THRUST—

[The attention...]

Cecilia screamed in her head.

[I am not...!]

But it was also somewhat feeble, shattered by the rhythm of their thrusts, by the fantasy still burning behind her eyes.

"Aaaahhh—"

The sound escaped into the silence bubble.