The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 493: Lone Wolf and Swordsmanship (3)

"MNNNHHH!! AHHNNN!!!" She could feel the pain from the familiar gigantic invading her, but the pleasure was greater. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, her body shuddering.

"Aah... aahn... mmn... hnngh... mnh!"

She could feel him filling her, stretching her, his thick, throbbing thing claiming her, marking her as his. She arched, her hips rocking against him, matching his rhythm.

"Mikhaillis! Mikhailis!"

"Cerys..."

Their bodies moved together, his pace quickening, his thrusts deep and powerful.

"AHN! YES! FUCK ME! HARDER!"

"Cerys!"

"I'm yours, Mikhailis. I belong to you. Claim me. Mark me. Make me yours."

"You are mine."

"Only yours."

"Cerys..."

"Cerys!"

The pleasure was intense, their bodies moving in perfect harmony.

"More. More, Mikhailis."

"Cerys."

"More."

"YES!"

"CERYS!"

Their cries mingled, their pleasure reaching a fever pitch.

"Cerys."

"I'm yours."

"You're mine."

"YESSSS!!"

"Cerys..."

"Yes. Yes. Yessssssssss!!"

"I-I'm CUMMINGG!!!" Cerys declared.

Mikhailis lift her and make his gigantic thing entered even deeper and move faster.

"MNNNHHH!!!!!"

Cerys's moans goat muffled by his kisses, while the sound of the flesh slapping filled the room.

"Mhh... Nghh..."

"Cerys..." Mikhailis called her name while he's pounding her.

"AHN...!"

"M-more! Mikhailis!!" Cerys said.

"More what?"

"Harder! Faster! I want it even deeper!"

"Mnh..." Mikhailis obeyed and pounded her even harder.

"AH! AHN! H-HARDER!!!"

"Aaah... AHN!! I-I'M CUMMINGG!!!" Cerys announced.

"Yes. Cum for me."

"AHnn- CUMMING- MNNNHH!!!!" Cerys moaned loudly.

Cerys could feel the gushing hot liquid filling her womb.

"F-fill me... Fill my womb...! Mikhailis, fill my womb...!"

Mikhailis's gigantic thing is still throbbing and pulsating inside her.

"AHNN... AHNNN... Mnh... Hah... Mmh... Nngh..."

"You're mine, Cerys."

"I'm yours."

"Always."

"M-mine..."

"Forever."

"Forever, Mikhailis."

"AHN- MMNN- CUMMINGGG!!!" Cerys cum again. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

Mikhailis and Cerys's orgasms continued, until finally, they were both spent. The large amount of Mikhailis's seed entering her spilled out, flowing onto the floor as she is still on his hands.

"Mmh... Hah... Ngh..." Cerys gasped for air.

"Hah... Hah... M-Mikhailis..."

"I-It feels so good..."

"M-my womb... It's throbbing... Filled with your seed..."

"Y-you're mine, Mikhailis..."

"And you're mine."

"Ahn... Yes... Always..."

They held each other close, their bodies entwined. And again, they kiss.

"Cerys, let's have another round."

"Y-yes..."

"H-how... how many times do you plan to fill me with your seed...?"

"As many times as it takes."

"A-as many times as it takes to breed you."

"B-breed me?"

"You're mine, Cerys. Forever. And I'm yours."

"M-mine..."

"And I want everyone to know that. I want them all to see that you're mine."

"T-that I'm yours..."

"And so I'm going to fill your womb. Again. And again. And again."

"Again... and again..."

"Until your belly swells with our child."

The perfect sweet words to melt the steel-hearted knight that has just found her maiden heart melts by the prince consort.

"Gladly,"

_____

Morning slipped in like a lazy cat, sunlight pawing across tangled blankets and throwing slow-moving stripes of gold over two unruly heaps of clothes on the floor. Somewhere in the sheets Mikhailis surfaced from sleep, a smile already half-formed because his first sensation was warmth—Cerys's entire length pressed snug against his right side, all soft skin and hard muscle tucked beneath one arm. Her breath feathered across his ribs; with each rise and fall she made a faint sigh, like a content wolf pup dreaming of an easy hunt.

Stay still, he told himself, savoring. He let his gaze wander, cataloguing details the dim candlelight had hidden last night: the pale line of an old sword cut curving along her flank; the faint scatter of freckles across one shoulder; the way her unruly red hair spilled over his chest like embers that refused to die. His thumb stroked an idle path from the hinge of her jaw to the hollow at her collarbone, feeling the quiet thump of her pulse. For once, no alarms pinged in his mind, no council schedules throbbed behind his eyes. Just this. Breathe.

The blankets shifted as she inhaled, deeper this time. Lashes fluttered, brushes of copper against sunlit skin. A lazy smile tugged her lips before her eyes even opened. She nuzzled closer with the unconscious possessiveness of a warrior who had finally found something worth guarding.

"So…" She spoke around a yawn, voice husky with sleep. "That swordsmanship lesson?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her brow. "Was I a good student?"

One hazel eye cracked open. "Terrible." She punctuated her verdict with a teasing nip at his chest, then peppered the spot with feather-light kisses. "But eager to learn."

The motion made the sheet slide down to their hips, admitting a cool draft—and revealing a conspicuous ridge tenting the blanket over Mikhailis's pelvic bone. Cerys's eyes widened, then narrowed in faux accusation.

"Saints above." She flicked the blanket with two fingers, watching it wobble like a mischievous cat swatting a dangling ornament. "That thing exhausted me half the night and it's already plotting rebellion?"

Mikhailis stretched, unrepentant grin splitting his face. "High metabolism. Blame the royal cook."

"Or your monstrous stamina." She flicked again, then dragged the sheet higher, trapping the tent—more a playful gesture than a modest one. "Down, sir knight. We have yards to supervise."

"Practical research says another hour." He tried to roll her beneath him, but she planted a palm on his sternum, holding him at bay—though the gleam in her eyes said the effort cost her.

"Tempting." Her fingers walked up his chest, tapping the rhythm of a battle drum. "But if we don't appear soon, recruits will think the sun's broken."

He groaned theatrically, then stole a kiss—quick, greedy. She melted for one stolen breath before shoving him back.

"Up," she ordered, voice soft but iron-set. Yet her gaze lingered on the sheet's rebellious peak, cheeks flushing a delicious pink. "Stars, you really are—" She shook her head, wry grin blooming. "Fine. Five minutes to cool the forge or I'm marching you out like that."

"Would certainly boost morale," he mused, hands lacing behind his head.

"Terrify morale," she corrected, but her laugh was warm. She stretched, arms overhead, back arching in a way that turned sunlight to liquid gold on her skin. Muscles rippled, scars flexed; she wore them like medals. Mikhailis watched openly, admiration flickering into something hungrier. Her gaze caught his, recognized the spark, and for a heartbeat silence thickened—until she sliced it with a playful kick at his calf.

"Eyes up, Prince. There's a whole kingdom outside this room."

"Unfortunately." He rolled to sit, blanket sliding away to bare his torso. Cerys's eyes dipped, appreciation unhidden. He waggled brows. "See something you like?"

She hummed. "A masterpiece. Shame the artist sleeps all day."

He snorted, swung legs over the mattress edge. Cold air bit at heated skin. Cerys followed, standing to her full height. The sun painted the line of her spine, flaring at every curve. She reached for scattered garments, tossing his shirt to his face.

They dressed slowly, stealing touches between buttons and buckles. He slid her leather trousers up toned thighs, fingers lingering until she swatted him with a laugh. She laced his gambeson, tugging the ties a little tighter than necessary—payment in kind. He retaliated by fastening her belt from behind, slipping a kiss beneath her ear that made her breath hitch.

"Careful," she warned, though her voice lacked bite. "One more kiss and we'll never leave."

He stepped back, palm over heart in surrender. "I concede."

She eyed him, lips curving. "Her Majesty's at a summit, you know," she said, buckling her vambrace. "West border. She took Serelith, Vyrelda, and Lira for three days." A pause, then softer, almost shy: "The palace felt… quiet."

"Yeah, I know. You've told me yesterday," He smirked, sliding spectacles into his vest pocket. "So that's why you're here. Boredom prevention."

"And to make sure your sword arms don't rust," she retorted, though her eyes warmed.

"Thoughtful of you." He tugged on boots, stood. "Ready?"

Cerys gave a slow, deliberate once-over—her sharp eyes tracing the lines of his tunic, the snug fit of his gambeson, the gentle mess of his hair that still clung to a hint of sleep's wild embrace. A soft smile touched her lips, but there was a warmth in her gaze that ran deeper than any jest. She reached up, fingers brushing a stray black curl that insisted on rebelling, tucking it behind his ear with a tender care that felt almost possessive.

"Almost,"