The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 576: Whispers Among Wardrobes (2)

Her heels stopped. Silence pressed in. A soft breath rustled dust near his locker door. If he reached through that crack, he could almost brush her skirt.

Steady, he told himself. He clasped his wrists, feeling his own pulse thrumming beneath leather straps. Anticipation coiled inside him like a spring.

The latch lifted with a tender click. Cool air spilled into the locker. For half a heartbeat, Mikhailis stared straight into Serelith’s eyes—violet flecks catching the dim lantern gleam. Surprise flared, then narrowed to delight.

He exhaled a resigned sigh, lips tugging into a crooked smirk. "Found me, huh?"

"Caught," she whispered, the single word gliding over his skin like velvet.

Before she could tilt that victory into teasing, he moved—quick, sure, a tide pulling her under. One arm snaked around the narrow jut of her waist, fingers settling with possessive certainty at the small of her back. The other slipped behind her knees, guiding her balance with practiced ease. She yielded, liquid in his grasp, skirts whispering as the door thunked shut and the slender seam of light vanished. In the locker’s hush, darkness pressed close, broken only by the dim pulse of her enchanted monocle.

Their lips collided—no polite brushing, no tentative taste, just the bright crackle of flint meeting steel. Heat flared in the small space.

"Mm—mph!" Her startled gasp fluttered against his mouth, stifled when he angled deeper.

He tasted rose sugar first—soft and floral—then the tease of clove oil blooming spicy across his tongue. The mixture tingled, numbing the tip of his tongue as it swept along her bottom lip. She responded with a breathy hum, lashes fluttering against his cheek.

"Mmh... slrp," she breathed when he coaxed her lips apart. Their tongues brushed—silk sliding over silk—and sparks leapt down his spine. The sound, wet and needy, filled the cedar-scented dark.

Her hands threaded into his hair, nails skimming his scalp with a kitten’s delicate claws. He groaned low—an appreciative rumble that vibrated against her lips—and tightened the pull of his arm so her chest met his. The leather harness beneath his coat squeaked; the sound felt scandalously loud, but it only deepened the heat curling between them.

She tasted him back, curious strokes mapping every ridge of his tongue, every edge of his teeth. He met her tempo, matching languid swirl with firmer press until their breaths tangled in short, hungry bursts.

He caught her lower lip between his teeth—just a light nip. She arched, exhaling a shaky laugh that melted into a single, needful moan. "Ah—mMmh." The noise curved around him, soft as velvet yet sharp as a hook pulling him closer.

Her perfume—smoked vanilla with damask rose—rose in warm waves each time she exhaled. Beneath it, the cedar locker walls exuded their own aged spice, resin mingling with the scent of her skin. The combination carved every other thought from his skull until wanting her was the only sense that mattered.

She punished his bite with a sharper nip of her own, catching his lip, tugging until he hissed through teeth. He answered by sliding his palm up the taut line of her corset, fingertips grazing the satin lacing. She shivered, the tiny tremor spilling into her kiss. Her tongue followed the contour of his mouth in a languid sweep—slow, deliberate, claiming. "Slrp... mhh..."

He drank the sound, pulse hammering. If roots barged in now I’d still choose this, he thought, marveling at how the world had shrunk to one heartbeat, two mouths, and shared breath fogging the hollow locker.

She pulled back half a finger’s width—enough to let a fragile thread of air in—then whispered against his lips, voice a thrumming challenge, "You make me hunt through cobwebs for this?"

He chuckled, breath ragged. "Your hunting keeps me nimble." He caught the tip of her tongue with his, coaxing it back into his mouth. She rewarded him with a husky purr and rolled her hips once—slow, suggestive. Fabric rustled; air grew heavier.

Her leg lifted, thigh gliding along the outside of his, and hooked around his hip. He cupped beneath her knee, supporting the angle. In response, she clutched his shoulders, nails pricking through his coat.

"Slrp... ahh..." The needy gulp of breath between kisses quickened their rhythm. She traced his bottom lip with the slick point of her tongue, then thrust deeper, tangling with his in bold sweeps. He answered in kind, sliding deeper still, until breaths whined out of both their chests—greedy, unashamed.

Leather creaked when he shifted, bracing his shoulder against cedar for leverage. Without breaking contact, he adjusted the grip on her waist, parting layers of skirt to splay fingers over the warm curve of her thigh. Her skin, shielded only by thin stockings, burned under his touch.

She moaned—a low, sultry note that filled the cramped locker—and rocked forward. Their hips aligned; the contact struck sparks along nerves. Heat pooled at his center, urgent and insistent. He rolled his hips—once, twice—in slow, testing undulations. She gasped into his mouth, breath hitching and then spilling over in a shaky laugh, part delight part dare.

"Mmmh... naughty prince," she breathed, playful accusation ghosting over his wet lips. She licked the corner of his mouth in a swift, kittenish flick, then sealed her lips to his again— "slrp... mmh!" —drinking his answering groan.

His thumb found the delicate dip at the base of her spine. Soft pressure there drew a sharp inhale from her; she arched, breasts brushing his chest. The friction through fabric teased both their nerves. He mapped the whalebone ridges of her corset again, pressing gently between stays, learning where her breath caught hardest. She trembled when he traced higher, following the curve of her ribs.

Somewhere above their heads, a pauldron swung on its peg, clinking stoneware-flat as if applauding. Neither spared it a glance. The world had stripped itself to heartbeat, breath, and the slick glide of tongues.

She broke the kiss for air, nose brushing his. Between ragged breaths, she whispered, "Flattery only saves you if you taste sweet enough."

He raised an eyebrow—even in near-dark he could feel her glower of teasing. "Then I’ll just have to prove sweetness," he murmured back. He slipped his tongue into her mouth again, tasting the spiced clove anew. She accepted, meeting him stroke for stroke.

"Mmh—slrp—ah..." Wet sounds echoed, obscene and perfect. Each slick press was punctuated by tiny gasps, soft sighs, and the quiet thud of his glove against cedar whenever he adjusted grip.

He felt the world tilt when she tightened her leg around his waist, seeking more friction. Responding, he surged upward, sliding one hand beneath her to lift her fully. She squealed softly, hands flying to the locker wall for purchase. He pressed her against the panel; wood groaned, dust shifting. The movement forced her skirt to bunch at her hips, baring more of her stocking-clad thighs to his roaming fingers.

She combed her nails down the back of his neck, dragging a growl from him. Reacting, he deepened the kiss until their lips bruised, tongues knotting tight.

"Mnn... slrp... gods," she gasped when they broke for air. Her monocle fogged, lens flashing with tiny runes trying to recalibrate through the steam of their breaths.

He brushed his nose along her cheekbone, voice a gravelled whisper. "Vicious minx."

"Only for you," she answered, teeth grazing his ear lobe. The nip stole his breath. She licked the spot she’d bitten, soothing the faint sting, then peppered quick kisses down the shell of his ear. Each brush of her lips sparked goosebumps across his shoulders.

He couldn’t stop the needy sound that escaped him—half-laugh, half-moan. She grinned against his neck, savoring the proof of her power. He retaliated by trailing kisses from the corner of her mouth to her jaw, then down the column of her throat. He felt her pulse flutter under his tongue—fast, frantic, matching his own.

"Ah—Mikhailis," she breathed, head tipping back to give him more room. He lavished attention on the tender hollow near her collarbone, kissing, sucking lightly until she writhed, whispering soft pleas he couldn’t decipher through the rush of blood in his ears.

Heat swelled, threatening to spill beyond the neat boundaries of stolen time. He pulled back just enough to press his forehead to hers, sharing panting breaths.

"Time lost meaning," he murmured, voice ragged but playful, "yet I think your monocle’s about to melt."

She laughed—quiet, breathless—and pulled him into another kiss. This time it was languid, slow, savoring. Their tongues danced at an unhurried tempo, savoring the flavors they’d already memorized. "Slrp... mmm..." Wet, tender sounds filled the wooden cage, softer now but no less desperate.

He smoothed her hair where a pink strand stuck to her forehead. She kissed him again—brief, chaste, then not chaste at all—her tongue flicking between his lips in a teasing flutter. He responded with a soft groan, sliding his hand higher to cradle her nape, thumb tracing tiny soothing circles.

She tightened her hold, fingers weaving behind his neck, anchoring him. The faint click of her amethyst earring against the locker wall made a tiny chime—a sweet counterpoint to the rustle of fabric and the hush of breaths.

When he finally drew back—barely an inch—her lips followed, seeking his again. He brushed a feather-light kiss to her nose, offering a moment’s reprieve. She used it to speak, voice breath-shaken yet bright with mirth. "Missed this,"

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