Deep beneath the palace tree, the roots had hollowed themselves into a cathedral-sized cavern.
A single glowing pool filled it, water the color of molten starlight, steam rising in slow spirals that smelled like vanilla and sex.
The pool was warm, weightless, and alive.
It knew what they wanted before they did.
Elena stepped in first, waist-deep, and the water lifted her instantly, cradling her on her back like a liquid bed.
Her huge tits floated just above the surface, nipples already glowing brighter, runes pulsing across her skin in time with her heartbeat.
Sophia followed, laughing as the pool flipped her onto her stomach, arms spread, legs parted, face turned so she could watch Lucas descend the crystal steps.
Lucas waded in last, cock jutting proud, eleven inches shimmering under the starlight water.
The moment he was submerged to the hips, the pool wrapped gentle tendrils of liquid around his shaft, stroking in perfect, slow pulls.
Elena floated to him first.
The water lifted her legs, hooked them over his shoulders, and pulled her pussy flush against his mouth.
Lucas drank her like wine, tongue spearing deep, nose buried in her clit.
The pool muffled her scream into a low, vibrating hum that rippled across the surface.
Sophia drifted over on her belly, water carrying her until her lips sealed around Lucas's cock beneath the surface.
She took him to the root in one smooth glide, throat opening, bubbles streaming from her nose as she held herself there.
The pool gave them breath when they needed it, stole it when they didn't, playing with their lungs like a lover plays with a clit.
Thirty seconds under.
Forty.
A full minute.
Sophia pulled off only when the water decided, gasping, glowing brighter, cum and nectar dripping from her lips.
Then it flipped her onto her back beside Elena, legs spread wide, pussies floating side-by-side like twin offerings.
Lucas moved between them.
He slid into Elena first, water cradling her ass, letting him thrust deeper than gravity ever allowed.
The pool pushed her onto him, pulled her back, fucked her on his cock in perfect weightless rhythm.
Ten strokes.
Then it slid her aside and impaled Sophia the same way.
Back and forth.
Elena.
Sophia.
Elena.
Sophia.
Every thrust sent glowing ripples across the pool, lighting the cavern in waves of violet and gold.
The water began to play dirtier.
A liquid tendril curled around Elena's throat, squeezing gently while Lucas pounded Sophia.
Another sealed over Sophia's mouth, controlling her air while he filled Elena.
They came like that: breathless, glowing, owned by the pool and by him.
Elena first, pussy clamping down so hard the water itself pulsed, squirting in a glowing fountain that lit the cavern like a supernova.
Sophia followed, muffled scream vibrating through the liquid gag, body arching out of the water as she squirted straight up, rainbows of light in the spray.
Lucas pulled them both close, water lifting them until they floated vertically against his chest, legs wrapped around him, pussies stacked one above the other.
He took them together: cock sliding into Elena, out, into Sophia, out, into Elena, a perfect rhythm while the pool held them weightless and open.
When he came, the water caught every drop, swirled it into glowing spirals, then pushed it back inside them in warm, pulsing waves, filling them over and over until they overflowed and the pool itself glowed white-hot.
They floated there for hours, tangled, breathless, glowing brighter than the moons outside.
Eventually the water gently deposited them on a crystal ledge at the pool's edge, still joined, still trembling.
Elena kissed Lucas slow and deep, tasting starlight on his tongue.
Sophia nipped his ear, voice husky.
"Every night," she whispered, "we come here and let the pool fuck us with you."
Lucas pulled them tighter, cock already hard again inside Elena.
"Then we never leave," he growled.
Above them, the great tree's roots pulsed in perfect sync with their heartbeats, drinking in their pleasure, growing stronger, brighter, forever.
The palace tree had grown a new heart overnight: a vast, open-air throne room beneath the twin moons.
Living wood arched into a cathedral dome, every branch tipped with silver leaves that chimed like crystal bells.
At the center rose three thrones, grown from the same glowing root.
Elena and Sophia were already seated when Lucas stepped through the vine curtain.
Their thrones were alive.
Soft, velvet vines coiled gently around their wrists, ankles, waists, keeping them spread and displayed.
Thicker tendrils moved between their thighs: one sliding slowly in and out of Elena's pussy, another circling Sophia's clit in perfect, pulsing rhythm.
Their nipples were crowned with tiny, sucking buds that glowed brighter every time they moaned.
Between the thrones stood a raised dais of moon-white marble.
That was for Lucas.
Hundreds of elf women filled the chamber: every single member of the Lúineth Clan, the ancient all-female moon-elf bloodline who had guarded this realm for millennia.
Tall, silver-haired, eyes like liquid starlight, bodies carved from moonlight and desire.
They wore nothing but delicate chains of living silver that draped over hips and breasts, leaving everything else bare.
They knelt in perfect silence as Lucas walked forward, cock already hard, runes blazing across his skin.
The clan's High Seer, a statuesque elf named Aeloria, rose from the front row.
Her voice rang like bells:
"By the ancient pact, the bonded triad claims the throne.
Let the realm witness its queens receive their king."
She gestured, and two vines descended from the canopy, wrapping lovingly around Lucas's shaft, stroking in slow, worshipful pulls while warm nectar dripped from their tips.
Elena and Sophia moaned in unison as their thrones responded, vines fucking them deeper, faster, matching the rhythm of the ones on Lucas.
A dozen elves rose and approached the dais.
They knelt in a circle around Lucas, silver hair cascading over bare shoulders, mouths open, tongues ready.
The first elf, Aeloria, took him first: lips sealing around the head while the vines kept stroking the shaft, her throat glowing faintly as she swallowed him to the root.
Another elf moved beneath, tongue lapping at his balls, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin behind while the vines never stopped.
They rotated in perfect choreography: one deep-throating, one licking, one kissing his thighs, one sucking the nectar from the vines themselves.
Above them, Elena and Sophia watched, thrones fucking them relentlessly, vines now filling both holes with gentle, pulsing pressure, keeping them on the edge of orgasm but never over.
Elena's voice cracked through the chamber:
"Make him cum for us, sisters. Paint your queens with our king's seed."
The elves obeyed.
Four mouths at once: two on his cock, one on each ball, one sliding beneath to rim him gently while the vines tightened and stroked faster.
Lucas roared, hips jerking.
The first rope shot across Aeloria's tongue, glowing like liquid starlight.
She pulled back, aimed the rest: thick, endless streams across Elena's tits, Sophia's belly, then back to the elves' upturned faces, painting silver hair, parted lips, glowing skin.
The thrones responded instantly.
Vines slammed deep into Elena and Sophia, buds sealing over their clits and sucking hard.
They came together, screaming, bodies arching off living wood, squirting in glowing arcs that rained over the kneeling elves like a coronation blessing.
Lucas stayed hard, runes blazing, vines still stroking.
Aeloria rose, cum dripping from her chin, and spoke to the entire clan:
"From this night forward, the Lúineth serve the triad.
Our bodies, our magic, our eternal pleasure, yours to command."
Every elf bowed, then rose, chains chiming, eyes hungry.
Elena beckoned with one vine-wrapped wrist.
"Then start now," she commanded, voice husky. "Worship your king while he fills his queens again."
The throne room erupted into a symphony of moans, glowing seed, and living vines as the all-female clan descended on their new rulers, mouths and hands and bodies joining the eternal bond under twin moons that would never set.
The sacred grove bloomed only once every hundred years.
Tonight it opened for them.
A perfect circle of ancient white trees, petals falling like liquid starlight.
At the center: a raised altar of living crystal that pulsed with the realm's heartbeat.
Elena and Sophia were already on it, reclining side-by-side, legs spread wide, glowing vines cradling their hips.
The entire Lúineth Clan formed a ring around them (two hundred silver-haired moon-elves, naked, bellies already gently rounded with the first faint glow of Lucas's seed from the past weeks).
Lucas stood between his queens' thighs, cock blazing with runes, eleven inches dripping nectar that made the crystal beneath him hum.
He entered Elena first, slow and reverent, bottoming out while the grove itself sighed.
Ten strokes.
Then Sophia.
Ten strokes.
Back and forth, while the elves chanted in a language older than moons.
Every time he filled one queen, vines lifted the other so the clan could drink from her overflowing pussy (tongues lapping glowing cum and nectar straight from the source).
The ritual was halfway to completion when the shadows moved.
Black portals ripped open between the trees.
Dark-elves poured through (tall, obsidian-skinned, crimson eyes, hair like spilled blood).
The rival Daelith Clan, exiled centuries ago for trying to corrupt the realm's pleasure magic into pain.
Their leader, Vyrneth, stepped forward, whip-thin and lethal, wearing nothing but black crystal chains that barely covered her nipples and slit.
She smiled with too many teeth.
"The triad is incomplete," she hissed. "Moonlight alone cannot rule.
We claim the king tonight."
Before anyone could react, black vines shot from the portals (living shadow, tipped with cruel barbs).
They wrapped the moon-elves' wrists, forced them to their knees.
Vyrneth strode straight to the altar, dark hand closing around Lucas's still-buried cock.
Elena and Sophia snarled in unison.
Lucas met Vyrneth's crimson eyes.
"You want to play?" he growled. "Then play."
He pulled out of Sophia, spun Vyrneth, and slammed into her in one brutal thrust.
The dark-elf queen screamed (half rage, half ecstasy) as the crystal altar flared white-hot beneath them.
Black and white vines clashed, then merged, turning silver.
Vyrneth's eyes rolled back.
"Harder," she demanded, voice cracking. "Break me or bow to me."
Lucas gave her harder.
He fucked her against the altar while Elena and Sophia watched, fingers buried in each other's pussies, runes blazing brighter than ever.
The merged vines freed the moon-elves and began binding the dark-elves instead (wrists to ankles, mouths open, bodies offered).
Aeloria, the moon-elf High Seer, stepped forward, silver cum still dripping from her chin.
"Yield," she commanded the dark-elves, "and share the pleasure.
Fight, and be broken."
Vyrneth came first, violently, black pussy squirting glowing silver across the crystal as Lucas flooded her with the same seed that had already claimed two queens.
The moment his cum hit her womb, her crimson eyes flashed silver.
She dropped to her knees, forehead to the altar.
"We yield," she gasped. "Take us. All of us."
Lucas pulled out, turned, and slid back into Elena, then Sophia, then Vyrneth again (claiming all three queens in front of both clans).
The grove exploded into light.
Every elf (moon and dark) was freed, then bound again by silver vines that fucked them gently, perfectly, while they watched their new king cycle between the three queens on the altar.
When Lucas finally came a third time, he pulled out and painted all three faces in thick, glowing ropes that connected them like crowns.
The clans knelt as one.
Elena, Sophia, and now Vyrneth rose together, cum dripping from their chins, and spoke with one voice:
"This realm has three queens.
One king.
Two clans.
One rule: pleasure forever."
The grove sealed shut above them, petals raining silver and black.