Aromatic Flesh Novels & Stories

EPISODE 134 I opened my eyes, just a little. Just enough to see through my lashes without revealing I was awake. They were getting closer now. Two of them were carrying a large wooden spit, each holding one end over their shoulders. Skewered in the center was a boar, completely hairless and cleaned. The pinkish meat was already rubbed with crushed herbs that clung to its skin like a dark, speckled coating. I could smell it faintly, the rawness of the flesh mixing with the earthy scent of herbs and smoke from the fire.

It's a magnetic pull that I can't resist, drawing me closer to him, both physically and emotionally. The scent of both Neo and Alaric's presence envelops me, intertwining in the air and creating a unique fragrance that is both comforting and intoxicating. It's a blend of Neo's warm, earthy cologne and Alaric's subtle, crisp aftershave. The combination instantly soothes my senses, wrapping me in a cocoon of tranquility and serenity.

The air hung thick with the scent of lemon polish and the lingering trace of his cologne, cedar, spice, and something darker, more possessive. It clung to my skin, a phantom caress that made my stomach clench. My body felt leaden, bruised not physically, but deep within, every muscle humming with a searing, shameful echo.

And as soothing oil to knead and comfort our weary flesh after interlocking our bodies until our bones crushed. We did not forget precious incense to mask the sea stench and heighten feral arousal. Musk, with its sticky scent recalling a beast's deep heat, would pierce and stimulate the dark feminine essence dormant deep inside us three mother and daughters. Agarwood incense to be burned in the bonfire would fill the cave with a dreamy gray mist, summoning the illusion that this was not the mortal realm, but a fantasy hell of pleasure. The beast's sweat, the heavy scent of wetness from our centers, the male musk of chestnut blossoms, and these incenses would blend together.

The biological signal that tied my soul to her body was failing, the vibrant pheromones that usually made my cock twitch with a frantic thud beneath my trousers completely muted. My brows furrowed as I pulled my head back slowly, my hand sliding up her spine to grab her chin, ruthlessly tilting her face upward until her wide, terrified stare collided directly with mine. “What is wrong with you, Amaris?” I growled, my deep, gravelly voice dropping into a menacing rumble that made the crystal glasses on the overhead racks vibrate faintly. “Speak to me. Why is your scent completely buried under the smell of a common kitchen? It’s practically nonexistent.”

My breath hitched, my entire body tensing not with pain, but with a sudden, overwhelming awareness. Her scent filled my senses. It wasn't the heavy perfume of an Olympian lady, but something wilder, more natural. It was the sweet, earthy smell of the forest after a rain, mixed with the faint, lingering aroma of ale and woodsmoke from the tavern. It was an intoxicating combination, a scent that was uniquely hers, and it was doing things to me I hadn't felt in decades.

I knew today she wanted a wild sex. My condition was no different. I was moving my face between her breasts and she was moaning with pleasure. Today there was no point in kissing and cuddling. I removed her sari's end over her breasts and I put my hands around her back to unhook her blouse. She lifted her back slightly to provide access for my hands. I quickly unhooked her blouse and threw it on the floor. Suddenly I could smell musky aroma of her armpits. It was too intense. I had noticed that whenever she was horny that aroma would increase. That day it was so intense that I could smell it from a distance. I always liked her aroma. So I grabbed her both hands and placed them over her head

They know the King and the Queen are sleeping in different wings. They place the platters on the table. The smell hits me first. It isn't a drift. It is a wave. Roast lamb. It is cooked with rosemary and garlic, swimming in a rich, dark gravy made from the drippings. It is heavy. Oily. Pungent. The smell of cooked meat and animal fat fills the room, suffocating the delicate scent of the roses. My stomach lurches. It is a violent, physical contraction. My throat closes up. Saliva floods my mouth—the body’s warning signal before a purge.

So close to Aeolus, but so far. The man sitting inside the chair looked familiar. Too familiar. I'd never met the Pantomath, with gray skin and black eyes. More corpse than man. But then I watched a grin pull at the side of his mouth. The steady, pleasing beat of his heart. The smell of rotting flesh woven into a skin suit. I had never forgotten that scent. The pleasured smile. The way his breath fanned across the room, sweet like his body was devouring itself. The dirty nails biting into me, smearing me with my mother's still-warm blood. The touch is woven into my mind forever. It would never leave me despite how deeply I scrubbed my skin. No matter how much ink I poured into myself.

Arya sat quietly, her senses coming alive as a train of maids and servants wheeled in their meal on different carts. The rich, savory scent of roast venison wafted through the air first, carrying hints of rosemary and garlic, mingling with the robust fragrance of slow-cooked stews.