The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 498: The Lovely Lone Wolf (End) [18+]

"C-Cerys…"

Her lips brushed over the thick ridge, her tongue darting out for a brief, experimental lick. She felt the way he tensed beneath her touch, heard the low, needy sound he made, and her confidence seemed to grow. She kissed again, her lips pressing firmly this time, her fingers gripping the fabric and tugging it slightly, feeling the sheer size beneath.

"You're… you're really big," she whispered, her cheeks flushed, but her lips never stopped their slow, teasing exploration. "Even bigger than I thought."

Mikhailis tried to laugh, but it came out as a strained, breathless chuckle. "I… I'm glad it meets your expectations…"

Her fingers found the waistband of his pants, and she hesitated for just a heartbeat, her eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a question in her gaze, a silent request for permission.

He nodded, his voice a low, husky whisper. "Only if you're sure…"

In response, her fingers slipped beneath the waistband, and she pulled, the fabric sliding down his hips. His length sprang free, thick, hard, and pulsing with heat. Cerys's breath caught, her wide eyes drinking in the sight of him. Her lips parted slightly, and she leaned closer, her warm breath washing over his bare skin.

A shiver raced down Mikhailis's spine, every nerve alive with anticipation. He watched her, his chest rising and falling with each sharp, heated breath. The way her cheeks flushed, the soft tremor in her fingers—Cerys was both awed and curious, and it stirred something wild within him.

"You're… you're not wearing anything underneath?" she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

"I… I forgot." He chuckled, but it was a breathless, shaky sound. "Or maybe I just… didn't expect company."

A faint, embarrassed laugh escaped her, but she didn't look away. Instead, her gaze traced the length of him, the thick, throbbing heat of his shaft so close to her lips. Her fingers wrapped around him, warm and delicate, and she gave an experimental, gentle squeeze. His breath caught, and he let out a low, husky moan.

"It's… it's so warm… and… big," she whispered, almost to herself. Her thumb traced along the sensitive underside, feeling the pulsing heat beneath her touch. "Bigger than I thought…"

Her words sent a rush of heat flooding through him, and he fought to keep his composure. "You… you can stop anytime, Cerys… if it's too much…"

But she shook her head, her fingers stroking slowly, building her courage. "I… I don't want to stop. I want… I want to try…"

Her lips brushed against the swollen, sensitive tip, her warm breath teasing his skin. Mikhailis's hands curled into the cushions beneath him, a low, desperate groan escaping his lips. She kissed the tip, her lips soft and warm, and her tongue flicked out, tasting the faint bead of moisture that had gathered there.

The salty, faintly sweet taste made her cheeks flush deeper, but she didn't pull away. If anything, her curiosity seemed to grow. Her lips parted, and she leaned forward, taking the head into her mouth, warm, wet heat enveloping him. Her tongue swirled, teasing the sensitive tip, and Mikhailis's body tensed, his head tilting back, a ragged, needy moan slipping free.

"C-Cerys…" he gasped, his fingers tangling in her thick, crimson hair. "That… that feels…"

Her lips stretched around him, her mouth moving slowly, exploring, tasting. Her hand continued to pump the thick shaft, her other hand resting against his thigh, steadying herself. Every touch, every movement sent jolts of heat racing through his body. His muscles tightened, his breath coming faster.

She began to move, her mouth sliding down, taking more of him, her tongue pressing against the underside, tracing the thick, pulsing veins. But he was too big for her to take fully, and she quickly realized that. Instead, she focused on what she could manage—her lips gliding up and down the head, her hand stroking the rest, her tongue swirling with each bob of her head.

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his, and the sight of her—flushed, her lips stretched around his thick, throbbing length, her gaze a mix of shyness and determination—was almost too much. Mikhailis's fingers tightened in her hair, his body trembling.

"You… you're amazing…" he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "So… so good…"

Her cheeks flushed even darker, and she moaned softly around him, the vibrations sending shivers up his spine. Her lips tightened, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked, her tongue pressing and swirling, drawing out desperate, hungry sounds from his lips.

"Cerys… gods…" he groaned, his hips shifting, pressing just slightly deeper into her mouth. But she didn't pull back. If anything, she leaned in, her tongue teasing the sensitive underside, her hand stroking in slow, steady motions.

Her free hand slid lower, gently cupping his balls, massaging them with a delicate, almost reverent touch. He gasped, his entire body tensing, his breath coming faster.

"Fuck… Cerys… I'm close…" he gasped, his voice barely more than a ragged whisper.

But she didn't pull away. Her lips tightened, her head bobbing faster, her tongue working with eager, playful skill. His hips began to twitch, instinctively pressing against her, his muscles tightening, a heat building deep in his core.

"I… I'm gonna… Cerys… I'm gonna…" His voice broke, a desperate, needy sound.

And then it hit.

Mikhailis's body tensed, a strangled, shuddering moan ripping from his throat. His hips bucked, and he erupted—thick, hot bursts filling Cerys's mouth with a sudden, overwhelming warmth. Her eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, but she didn't pull away. She tried to keep her lips sealed around him, swallowing quickly, her throat working desperately to keep up with the intense, salty-sweet flood.

But it was too much. More of his release spilled from the corners of her mouth, warm streaks trickling down her chin, a few droplets even splashing onto her trembling fingers. A muffled, wet sound escaped her, a faint, desperate gulp, but she didn't stop. Her tongue pressed against the pulsing head, coaxing out every drop, even as her throat tightened, and she fought to keep from choking.

Mikhailis's body shuddered with each pulse, his voice a mixture of gasps and groans, his fingers tangled in her crimson hair. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his senses swimming in a hazy, euphoric heat. He tried to speak, but only her name slipped out—a soft, breathless whisper.

"C-Cerys…"

Finally, when the pulsing began to slow, she pulled back, gasping for air. A thin line of his release connected her lips to his still-throbbing length, and a few more thick drops dripped from her chin to her trembling fingers. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, breathing heavily, and looked up at him, her cheeks flushed, her wide, golden eyes shining with a mixture of pride and embarrassment.

"I… I couldn't swallow it all," she whispered, her voice a little hoarse, her tongue darting out to lick the lingering taste from her lips. "But it's… it's delicious…"

Her words sent another rush of heat through Mikhailis's chest, and his restraint snapped. He leaned forward, his fingers slipping beneath her chin, lifting her face toward him. And then he kissed her—deep, hungry, desperate. His lips claimed hers, tasting the lingering saltiness of himself on her mouth, but he didn't care. Her lips were soft, warm, and eager, parting beneath his with a needy little moan.

Cerys's hands rose, pressing against his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. She kissed him back with a feverish intensity, her tongue meeting his, tangling, her breath still quick and heated. His hands cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing against the soft, warm skin, and he felt her shiver beneath his touch.

"Mikhailis…" she whispered against his lips, her voice a soft, desperate murmur. "You… you taste so good…"

Her words sent another rush of desire through him, and his hand slipped down, tracing the curve of her neck, feeling the rapid beat of her pulse beneath his fingertips. His other hand rested against her back, pulling her closer, pressing her against his chest.

"You're… incredible," he whispered, his voice thick with affection and desire. "I don't… I don't deserve you…"

"You do," she murmured, her lips brushing against his, her breath warm and sweet. "You… you always make me feel… special… safe… loved."

He kissed her again, slow and tender this time, his lips lingering against hers, tasting the warmth and softness, feeling the gentle, shy way she responded. Her hands slid up, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer, her body pressing against his.

But then she pulled back, her cheeks still flushed, her lips slightly swollen from the passionate kiss. "Mikhailis… was… was I good?" she whispered, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I mean… did I do it right?"

Mikhailis's smile softened, and he leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to her lips. "You were perfect, Cerys. More than perfect."

A shy, relieved smile bloomed on her face, and she leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his chest. Her fingers traced slow, idle patterns against his shoulder, and she sighed contentedly, her breathing finally beginning to slow.

"I… I didn't know if I could… but I wanted to make you feel good," she whispered, her voice soft, almost shy.

"You did," he assured her, his hand gently stroking her hair. "You have no idea how good you made me feel."

Her blush deepened, but she snuggled closer, pressing her face against his chest, hiding her embarrassment. "I… I'm glad…"

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in a warm, quiet embrace, the gentle rise and fall of their breaths gradually syncing. His fingers traced slow, soothing circles against her back, and her lips brushed soft, feather-light kisses against his collarbone.

But then her fingers traced lower, brushing against his still-warm, sensitive length. She hesitated for a heartbeat, then whispered, "Can… can I taste it again? I… I like the taste…"

Mikhailis's heart skipped a beat, a fresh rush of heat blooming in his chest. He leaned back slightly, his hand gently cupping her cheek, his dark eyes meeting her golden ones. "You don't have to, Cerys… I don't want you to feel like—"

"I want to," she whispered, her voice a mix of shyness and eagerness. "I want… more…"

His restraint crumbled, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in another deep, heated kiss. His tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her, exploring, and she moaned softly against his mouth, her fingers tracing lower, wrapping around his thick, still-warm shaft.

She pulled back, her lips a soft, breathless smile. "Then… let me taste you again."

Her head lowered, and her warm lips wrapped around the sensitive head, her tongue swirling, coaxing another soft groan from his lips. He leaned back, his head resting against the cushions, his fingers tangling in her thick, crimson hair. Every soft, eager touch of her mouth sent fresh jolts of heat racing through him, his breath coming faster.

Cerys's lips moved slowly, her mouth exploring, her tongue tracing the thick, pulsing veins. She swallowed softly, savoring the taste, her hand stroking slowly along his length, each gentle squeeze drawing soft, shuddering breaths from his lips.

"C-Cerys… gods, you're… amazing…" he gasped, his voice a low, trembling whisper.

Her soft, eager moans sent shivers through him, and she looked up, her golden eyes half-lidded, a faint, shy smile on her lips. "I love the taste… it's… so warm… so thick…"

He couldn't help it—he leaned down, pulling her back up, his lips claiming hers again. She melted against him, her arms wrapping around his neck, and he kissed her deeply, tasting the faint, salty sweetness on her lips.

"Are you okay?"

"More than okay," he whispered, reaching out, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. "You… you were perfect…"

She chuckled, and he laughed too. "C'mere."

She scooted closer, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. She snuggled into his side, and he sighed contentedly, burying his face in her hair.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until she spoke up.

"Um, Your Highness?"

"Hm?"

"I..." She trailed off, then shook her head, her face flushing. "Nevermind."

He chuckled. "Cerys, what is it?"

"N-nothing." She cleared her throat, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, Cerys, just tell me."

"I, uh, wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Wouldyougoonadatewithme?" she blurted out.

He blinked. "What was that?"

"Will you go on a date with me?"

Cerys's cheeks were a brilliant shade of pink, her fingers nervously twisting a loose strand of her crimson hair. Her eyes darted to the side, avoiding his gaze. For a warrior known as the "Lone Wolf," whose very name struck fear into her enemies, she now looked almost… shy. Vulnerable. And it was that rare, unguarded expression that made Mikhailis's heart skip a beat.

"A date?" he echoed, a grin spreading across his face. "Are you asking your prince to go on a date? How scandalous."

"Don't tease!" Cerys huffed, a hint of a pout gracing her lips. "I just thought… I don't know. We never really get a chance to just… be normal. I mean, here I am, your personal knight, and yet…" She bit her lip, her voice dropping to a soft murmur. "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like. Just… you and me. No swords. No titles. Just… us."

Mikhailis's grin softened, his hand gently cupping her cheek, thumb brushing against the soft warmth of her skin. "Just us, huh? Sounds perfect." He leaned in, his voice a low whisper. "Are you telling me that the legendary Lone Wolf wants to experience what it's like to be just a girl in love?"

Her blush deepened, but her courage didn't falter. "Yes," she admitted, a slight tremble in her voice. "I want to know what it's like to have you… all to myself. Just for a while."

"Well, who am I to deny such a sincere request?" he murmured, his forehead resting gently against hers. "Tell me, then, where should we go? A moonlit garden stroll? A hidden cafe with secret pastries? Perhaps—"

Her eyes widened, a spark of excitement lighting them. "A festival!" she nearly shouted, then caught herself, clearing her throat. "I mean… there's one starting tomorrow in the lower town, right? We could… blend in with the crowd. No one would recognize us."

Mikhailis chuckled. "A festival it is, then. I'll even try to win you a prize at one of those impossible ring toss games."

"You better," she giggled, her laughter bright and genuine. Then, as if the excitement suddenly overwhelmed her, she bounced on the couch, almost leaping to her feet. "Yes! A festival! I can finally—"

But just as she jumped, a rush of wind swept through the chamber, a faint rustling sound growing louder. Vines and twisted branches wove together before them, twisting and stretching as though a thousand ancient roots had been summoned from the earth itself. They braided and twisted, forming a towering archway of tangled greenery, shimmering with a faint emerald glow.

Mikhailis's smile faded, his brow furrowing as recognition dawned on him. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me…"

Cerys's excitement froze, her stance shifting immediately into that of a warrior, her hand instinctively reaching for a sword that wasn't there.

The air around them pulsed with a faint, magical hum. Leaves quivered along the vine-covered archway, a gentle, ethereal light spilling out from within. And then, a figure began to step through the living gateway—a figure draped in robes that seemed to flow like liquid shadow and silver, her long, dark hair spilling down her shoulders like a midnight waterfall.

"Lady Serelith?" Cerys whispered, her voice a mix of awe and tension.

Mikhailis sighed, his hand rubbing his forehead. "And here I thought we were going to have a peaceful evening…"