The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 501: Sudden Training With Serelith (3)

"You did well," she whispered. She placed a bowl in his shaky hands, then—while he tried to muster strength to lift the spoon—she slid elegantly onto his lap, straddling him once more.

Her robes spilled like night water, enveloping his knees. She nestled in, not heavy but firmly present, violet hair curtaining their faces. Her smile was all bright mischief.

Mikhailis peered over her shoulder at the unconscious knight. Cerys slumbered peacefully, arms slack, chest rising in a steady rhythm. He breathed out, torn between relief and fury.

Serelith picked up the spoon, scooped porridge, blew gently. Steam curled between her lips and his. "Open," she murmured.

He opened. Warm sweetness coated his tongue; hunger made him groan. She fed another bite, then lowered the spoon to dab a stray drop from his chin with her thumb. She popped that thumb between her own lips, eyes locked to his, suckling the taste.

Heat roared beneath his exhausted skin.

"What are you doing on top of me, Serelith?" Mikhailis's voice was a mix of weariness and faint amusement, though the heat in his cheeks was impossible to ignore. Her violet eyes sparkled with playful malice, her lips curved in that mischievous smile he had come to both anticipate and dread.

Serelith didn't answer immediately. Instead, she adjusted her position, her thighs pressing snugly against his hips, and a subtle shift brought a delicious, almost unbearable warmth where their bodies met. The delicate fabric of her robes draped like a silken curtain, her scent of lavender and rain filling the space between them.

"Continue your exercise, Your Highness," she whispered, her tone laced with a sweet, mock-serious authority. "We need to ensure you are completely fine. After all, I promised Her Majesty that I'd see this through properly."

Mikhailis sighed, his gaze reluctantly returning to his upturned palm, where the faint green light of Silvarion's mana shimmered and danced. Maintaining that focus was becoming an art of pain. His breathing steadied, eyes narrowing, but Serelith's constant presence on his lap made it nearly impossible to fully center himself.

She shifted again, this time a little more firmly, and a faint gasp escaped his lips as something undeniable pressed against her soft warmth. Her smile widened, a dangerous flicker of amusement in her eyes as she felt the hard, insistent shape pushing against her inner thigh.

"Oh my…" she purred, leaning forward so that her breath ghosted against his cheek. "Is that your mana surging, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Serelith…" he grumbled, but his voice lacked any real force. His focus on the green light wavered, the mist flickering at the edges, threatening to engulf it. His jaw clenched.

"You still need nutrients," she declared, her voice a mix of concern and that ever-present teasing edge. She reached for the nearby dish, plucked a delicate slice of honeyed root between her fingers, and, instead of simply feeding it to him, leaned forward.

Her lips brushed against his, warm and soft, and her tongue darted between them, pushing the sweet morsel into his mouth. Mikhailis's eyes widened as her tongue danced with his, the taste of honey melting between them. His pulse raced, his body leaning instinctively into the kiss.

The green light in his palm flickered violently, nearly extinguished.

He groaned against her lips, the sweetness of the root mingling with the subtle, intoxicating taste of her. Their tongues brushed, a dance of heat and hunger, but then—a sharp sting.

"Ouch!" He pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, and she smiled, a faint hint of moisture lingering on her bottom lip where she had bitten him.

"Focus," she chided, her voice all mock seriousness now. "If you can't keep your mana stable while I feed you, then we'll be here all night."

He scowled, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed the rush of heat beneath his calm facade. "This is… quite difficult." fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

"I know," she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. The warmth of her breath made him shiver. "That's the point. Training under pressure, darling. If you can't maintain your Silvarion mana even while I… tease you, then you have no hope of mastering it in a real crisis."

Mikhailis clenched his jaw, his fingers curling slightly, but he steadied his breath, focusing once more. The green light returned, a faint shimmer, but it held. He felt the cold, serpentine mist trying to encroach, but he forced it back, imagining roots sinking into bedrock, emerald leaves drinking sunlight.

"Good boy," Serelith cooed, her tone a mixture of praise and provocation. She plucked another morsel, this time a tender slice of glazed fruit, and leaned in again. He braced himself, expecting another kiss—but she simply touched it to his lips.

He took the bite, jaw tight with concentration, chewing without letting his focus waver. Serelith's hands traced slow, lazy circles along his shoulders, her nails occasionally grazing his skin through the damp fabric of his robe.

"Steady…" she whispered. "Steady…"

With each bite she offered, the intimacy between them only deepened, Serelith's touch becoming a sensual dance that bordered on sinful. Her lips grazed his cheek with each approach, a feather-light brush that left a tingling warmth on his skin. Her breath was a whisper of summer rain, warm and fragrant, and yet with each caress of her fingers along his collarbone, there was a teasing promise—something more, something tantalizingly just out of reach.

Her fingertips traced slow, deliberate patterns over his shoulder, the delicate pressure of her nails leaving faint trails of heat that made his skin prickle. Each time she leaned in, her chest pressed against him, and though the fabric of her silken robes concealed her form, he could feel the soft, warm pressure, the subtle curve of her figure melting against him.

"Mmnh…" she whispered, her voice a heated murmur, each sound a sweet note in a symphony of temptation. Her lips lingered against his jaw, her breath warm, her tongue darting out for the faintest taste of his skin, a delicate, teasing flick. "You taste… so warm… so alive…"

Mikhailis's breathing grew heavier, a faint shudder running through him with each touch, each kiss. The green light in his palm flickered, threatened to waver, but he forced himself to focus, even as her lips drifted lower, kissing a slow, molten trail down his neck. Her tongue traced the curve of his throat, and her teeth grazed his skin, a soft, delicious sting that made his breath catch.

Her mouth moved back to his lips, but this time there was no teasing. Her kiss was a slow, hungry claiming—her tongue pressing forward, seeking his.

"Mnh… mmm…" The sound slipped from her, a soft, needy moan that vibrated against his lips. Her tongue danced against his, wet and warm, swirling in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each flick of her tongue was a promise, each sweep a silent plea. And Mikhailis, despite the desperate need to maintain his mana, found himself swept away by her taste, by the sweet warmth of her mouth, the soft, eager pressure of her lips.

His tongue met hers, twisted with it, and they drank from each other in a heated, breathless exchange. Their lips parted only to press together again, tongues swirling, sliding, tasting. Her soft, desperate gasps mingled with his low, hungry growls, their breaths shared, their heat mingling.

"Nnh… M-Mikhailis…" she whispered against his mouth, her voice trembling with need, her hands sliding up to tangle in his dark, damp hair. Her fingers clenched, pulling him closer, her nails grazing his scalp. "Your taste… I can't… I can't get enough…"

Her confession sent a fresh pulse of heat surging through him, and he pressed back against her, his hand slipping to her waist, pulling her even closer. Her body melted against his, her hips pressing firmly against his lap, a soft whimper escaping her as she felt the undeniable, hard pressure against her thighs.

Their kiss grew wilder, her tongue plunging deeper, exploring, tasting every inch of his mouth. The wet, desperate sounds of their kiss filled the room—soft, breathless moans, wet, eager slurps, the faint click of teeth grazing against each other in their feverish dance.

"Mmnh… slrp… mmnh…" Her soft, muffled sounds only grew needier, each touch of his tongue drawing another sweet, desperate moan from her. She leaned in harder, her body pressing him back, her chest flattening against his. Her tongue explored him with a hunger that was almost desperate, tracing the roof of his mouth, then flicking against his own, a heated, teasing caress.

His fingers tightened at her waist, his body trembling with the strain of holding back, of keeping his focus on the flickering green light in his palm. It danced, shimmered, threatened to waver, but he forced himself to hold it steady. Yet the heat of her kiss, the sweet, intoxicating taste of her, the way her tongue twisted and danced with his—it was like fire surging through his veins.

Their lips parted for a heartbeat, a thin, glistening thread of their mingled saliva stretching between them before snapping. Serelith's breath came in soft, ragged pants, her flushed cheeks framed by her flowing purple hair, her violet eyes dark with need.

"Mnh… more…" she whispered, her voice a trembling, desperate plea. She kissed him again, fierce, hungry, her tongue thrusting forward, tangling with his. The wet sounds grew louder, their breaths mingling, their shared heat building to an almost unbearable intensity.

Mikhailis's focus wavered. He felt the mist clawing at the edges of his mana, cold tendrils of silver threatening to overwhelm the green glow. But Serelith's lips were a fire, her tongue a sweet, addictive poison, and he drank her in, feeling the ache in his chest, the desperate need burning through him.

"Nnh… mmm… slrp… mmmhh…"