The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The sheer scandal, the forbidden nature of it, twisted her desire into something fierce and overwhelming. She tried to maintain her composure, to keep her voice steady as she spoke to Cerys, who was still obliviously chatting ahead. But each word trembled with barely contained longing, each breath carrying a faint, muffled gasp.

The forest shimmered, the silver leaves dancing in the wind, and then the image dissolved.

Serelith gasped, the monocle slipping from her fingers, clattering against the soft carpet. Her chest heaved, her cheeks painted with a fierce blush. Her violet eyes were wide, shock and lingering heat burning within them.

At the same moment, Cerys's vision changed as well. The visor slipped over her eyes, first showing a delicate network of tactical data—threat assessments, movement tracking, even a subtle glow indicating potential magical traps. She smiled, impressed by the clarity. This is… brilliant. But then the data faded, colors swirling like melting wax, reforming into a warm, golden light.

She was in the royal chamber. The soft glow of enchanted sconces cast a warm, amber hue over the plush, velvet sofa. And she was not alone. Mikhailis leaned over her, his body pressing her into the cushions, his weight a perfect balance of strength and tenderness. His lips found hers, a fierce, desperate kiss that stole her breath. His hands traced her waist, her thighs, his touch burning trails across her skin.

Her own fingers tangled in his dark hair, her voice a breathless plea. "Mikhailis…"

He whispered her name, his voice thick with desire, his kisses trailing down her neck. The soft cushions embraced her, the rich fabric a comforting warmth against her bare skin. His touch was everywhere, exploring, teasing, leaving her breathless. Her heart raced, her breathing quickened, each whispered word a spark, each movement a rush of fire.

Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, pulling him closer, her back arching beneath him. The heat of his body, the hunger in his gaze, the desperate way their lips met—it all sent a shudder of pleasure through her, igniting every nerve. His name left her lips in a soft, desperate moan, and she felt his own breath shudder against her neck.

His hand slid beneath her, gripping her waist, guiding her movements. The sofa shifted beneath them, the plush cushions sinking beneath their weight. Her voice grew louder, her control slipping, each gasp a plea, each kiss a promise.

But even in that moment of heated passion, she saw the gentle light in his eyes, the way he whispered her name as though it was a treasure. She felt his strength, his warmth, and the deep, unspoken affection beneath the fierce desire.

The vision shattered, the warmth of the royal chamber replaced by the cool, incense-laden air of the tent. But the heat in her chest did not fade. Cerys's face flushed, her amber eyes wide, her breath coming in rapid, trembling gasps. Her fingers clenched around the visor, trembling slightly.

Her pulse raced, her skin tingling, her voice caught somewhere between a gasp and a whisper. What… was that? How… how was it so real?

Mikhailis stood between them, oblivious at first, still talking about the functionality of the gifts. But he noticed their silence, the way Serelith's face had gone pale, then flushed, the way Cerys's grip on the visor trembled. He saw their wide eyes, the faint tremors in their fingers.

"Uh… Rodion, what did you show them?" Mikhailis's voice was cautious, a hint of nervous laughter beneath.

<I accessed their most intimate memories with you to enhance emotional connectivity.> Rodion's tone was calm, almost cheerful, as if describing the weather.

Mikhailis's eyes widened, his face paling. "Rodion, you perverted cube…"

But the two women weren't listening. Serelith's breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling beneath the silken fabric of her dress. Her violet eyes locked onto Mikhailis, a mix of embarrassment, shock, and something far more primal burning within them.

Cerys's lips parted, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. "M-Mikhailis… what… what was that?"

Mikhailis raised his hands, a nervous grin stretching across his face. "Wait, wait, I can explain—"

But Serelith was already moving closer, her fingers brushing against his chest, her touch hesitant at first, then firmer, her violet gaze piercing into his. "It was real… I could feel… I could feel everything…"

Cerys leaned in from the other side, her amber eyes blazing, her breathing heavy. "You… you… how could you make it feel so real?"

"Wait, it wasn't me, it was—" Mikhailis tried to explain, but his voice died as their hands began to roam, Serelith's fingers sliding up his chest, Cerys's hand gripping his arm, pulling him closer.

Serelith's lips brushed against his ear, her voice a trembling whisper. "You have no idea what you've started…"

Cerys's breath was hot against his neck, her voice rough, needy. "You can't just show us that and expect us to stay calm."

Mikhailis's pulse raced, his voice cracking. "Wait, I… I didn't mean—"

His voice came out hoarse, almost pleading. "L-Ladies… this… we're in a tent… anyone could—"

But his protests were swallowed by Serelith's lips pressing against his, a fierce, hungry kiss that left no room for argument. Her tongue traced his lower lip, her body pressing against him, her warmth searing through his clothes.

Cerys's fingers slid lower, her touch tracing the hard lines of his abdomen, nails lightly grazing his skin. "Anyone could come in, you say?" she whispered, her voice low and daring, her breath a hot whisper against his ear. "Then let them see how we love our prince…"

Mikhailis's pulse hammered like war drums, his senses drowning beneath their touch. His mind grasped for logic, for restraint, but his body betrayed him. Heat pooled beneath his belly, and the fabric of his trousers strained, the tent beneath them undeniable. His cheeks burned, yet he couldn't look away from the two women pressing closer.

Serelith's eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushed a feverish pink. "Every time I see it… I never get used to it." Her voice was a breathy whisper, trembling with both awe and desire. Her fingers traced down his chest, trailing lower, brushing the taut fabric that barely contained his growing need.

Cerys's lips curled into a sly smile, her amber eyes darkening with hunger. "Too big…" she whispered, her fingers joining Serelith's. The two women exchanged a knowing look, and for once, their usual teasing rivalry vanished. They nodded to each other, a silent pact formed.

Together, they knelt before him, their hands moving in unison. Their delicate fingers danced over the buttons, the leather straps, until his trousers slipped down, pooling at his ankles. His rigid length sprang free, throbbing, thick, and pulsing with heat.

Serelith's lips parted, her breath shuddering as she stared. "Gods… it's even bigger than I remember." Her fingers curled around the base, her palm soft, her touch a delicate caress. "And so warm…"

Cerys leaned closer, her fiery red hair swaying like a curtain. "Every time, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time." Her tongue darted out, a tentative, teasing lick that sent a jolt of pleasure up Mikhailis's spine.

Mikhailis's hands gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white. His gaze lowered, and the sight stole his breath. Serelith's silken violet hair framed her pale face as her lips pressed against his tip, her eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed with lust. Beside her, Cerys's amber gaze never left his, her tongue tracing slow, lazy circles along his shaft.

Warmth, wet and electric, engulfed him. Serelith's lips parted, her mouth sliding over him, inch by inch. Her cheeks hollowed, each gentle suck drawing a groan from his lips. Cerys's tongue danced lower, tracing along the underside, her hand joining Serelith's, stroking what their lips could not reach.

The air grew thick with the mingled scents of incense and desire, the sweet spice of the tent fading beneath the musky heat that surrounded them. Mikhailis's breath came in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling as pleasure crashed over him like waves. His senses narrowed, the world beyond this tent vanishing. Nothing existed except their touch, their warmth, their hungry, adoring gazes.

Serelith's lips tightened, her moans vibrating against his length, her hands caressing his thighs, her hair swaying with every motion. Cerys's lips pressed against his base, her kisses growing more passionate, her tongue tracing every ridge, tasting the salt of his desire.

Their hands met, fingers entwining around his length, and they shared a glance—warm, daring, and utterly wild. They leaned closer, their lips meeting around him, tongues brushing, tasting him together.

Mikhailis's muscles tensed, his fingers digging into the table's edge. His voice cracked, a raw, desperate groan escaping. "I… I'm—"

Warmth surged, a fierce, overwhelming heat racing up from his core. His length throbbed, a rush building, unstoppable. He gasped, his head tilting back, stars dancing behind his eyelids.

His release came with a force that surprised even him. Thick, hot streams erupted, painting Serelith and Cerys's faces, staining their cheeks, their parted lips, their glistening skin. The thick, pearly seed clung to them, dripping down, and still, it didn't stop.

Cerys's eyes widened, her tongue darting out, licking the warmth from her lips. "So much… as always,"