The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 594: The Secret Sneak-in (End)

The rhythm was already set.

And they were ready to follow.

Mikhailis’s presence loomed close—a heat, a promise, the unspoken length of his desire brushing against Cerys’s hip. The lone wolf’s breath caught as he gathered her into his arms, feeling the tension carved into her every muscle, the years of holding back, the silent ache that had been hers alone.

She was used to steel, not this—this trembling, forbidden warmth, this weight pressed flush to her skin, too much and not enough all at once. Her fingers dug into his back, clutching at him as if afraid he might vanish and take the aching promise with him.

Their lips met, fierce and wet—tongues sliding, curling, tasting, claiming. The kiss was not gentle; it was hungry, desperate, a meeting of equals who had been forced to watch, to want, for far too long.

Cerys gasped, her words spilling into the air, ragged and shamed and triumphant all at once:

"IT’S—AH—MMHH!!—IT’S SO BIG—MMHH! SLRP—"

The syllables broke on her tongue, torn between disbelief and delight. She arched into him, her whole body quivering as the undeniable length of him pressed closer, as if testing the very limits of what she could bear. The forbidden heat radiated between them, wrapping her in a feverish ache, a fullness she’d only dreamed of and now could not imagine letting go.

Every movement was a revelation. She felt stretched, opened, possessed by the shape of him—a living proof of all the longing she had tried so hard to hide.

"GODS, MIKHAILIS—HOW... MMHH!!—HOW CAN ANYONE BE THIS... MMHH! SLRP!"

He swallowed her moan with his mouth, kissing her deeper, his tongue moving in slow, savoring strokes—drawing her out, coaxing her to give in to the yearning. She melted into the rhythm, her body pressed so tightly against his she could feel the wild beat of his heart, the shivering tension in his arms.

But as her pleasure mounted, so too did her jealousy. Cerys’s gaze darted over his shoulder to Lira—her rival, her companion in longing—standing just beyond reach, lips parted, eyes shining with envy and hunger. That old ache flared again: the desire to possess, to be possessed, to not be the one left watching at the door.

Mikhailis sensed it—he always did. His hand slipped from Cerys to Lira, pulling her close with a gentleness that promised she would not be left behind. His mouth found hers, a kiss slow and deep, his tongue sweeping along hers, sharing the taste of longing, the velvet pressure, the heat he had poured into Cerys now folded into Lira as well.

Lira’s breath caught in a high, trembling sigh, her hands rising to cup his face, to draw him closer, as if she might drown in the taste of him. The jealousy eased, melting into relief, into gratitude, into a fierce, aching belonging.

Cerys, now pressed to his side, could not hold back her cries—half plea, half disbelief, sharp and desperate:

"MMHH!! IT’S—AH!—STILL TOO BIG—MMHH! SLRP!"

Her voice cut through the heavy air, a thread of wonder and surrender. The rhythm of their kisses, the tangle of their bodies, was a feverish dance—tongues gliding, breaths mingling, hands roaming in the half-light. Each gasp, each muffled moan, each "SLRP!" seemed to echo off the walls, weaving a tapestry of heat and longing that bound all three together.

She clung to him, every inch of her trembling. The forbidden warmth, the impossible length, the fullness of being seen, touched, wanted—each sensation carved into her, a promise she would carry long after the moment faded.

And as the emerald glow shimmered over their joined forms, painting their skin in flickering green-gold, Cerys let herself fall, surrendering to the pleasure, the jealousy, the burning promise that she was no longer alone.

"MMHH—YES—PLEASE—DON’T STOP—IT’S SO MUCH—MMHH! SLRP—SO FULL—"

Her voice broke on a shuddering sigh, her body arching to meet him again and again, as if to prove, finally, that she could take all he had to give.

And through it all—through every kiss, every breath, every desperate, tangled syllable—Mikhailis held them both, his own longing threaded with the certainty that nothing, not even envy or secrecy, could separate them any longer.

Cerys clung to Mikhailis, her body trembling, caught between the ache of fullness and the sharp, glittering edge of envy as she felt his attention—his impossible, overwhelming presence—focused on her at last. Every movement was a new wave: the heat building, the length of him pressing deeper, an intimate weight that pulsed through every fiber of her being.

Her breaths came ragged, broken by small gasps and the wet press of lips. Her cries grew softer, half-swallowed by kisses and the tangle of her hair, but sometimes they escaped, wild and fierce:

"MMHH—AH—IT’S—TOO MUCH—MMHH! SLRP—DON’T—DON’T STOP—!"

Each stroke sent ripples through her, tension coiling tighter and tighter. Her toned, battle-scarred frame, so often a wall, now shuddered beneath his touch, surrendering fully to the forbidden warmth flooding through her.

She arched, clutching his shoulders, her body drawn taut by the mounting pressure—jealousy and longing and something even sweeter now mixing with each trembling heartbeat. The sensation peaked, sharp and shattering—a sudden, gushing heat blooming inside, a promise fulfilled at last. Cerys’s whole body went limp, every muscle uncoiling as a deep, sated sigh escaped her lips.

Her head dropped to his shoulder, face flushed and eyes fluttering closed, the tension draining away, replaced by a dazed, grateful joy. She didn’t need to speak; her smile—shaky, victorious—said everything.

Lira lingered at Mikhailis’s side, caught in the shadow of their embrace, her own body strung tight with hope and hunger. She watched as Cerys sagged, satisfied, and for a moment, that old ache of being left outside the circle nearly overtook her.

But Mikhailis’s hand found hers, his fingers threading through, steady and warm. He turned to her, eyes dark with promise and apology and a hundred unspoken wishes.

He drew her in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was all velvet and fire—his tongue exploring hers in slow, savoring sweeps, as if to memorize the taste of her longing. The pressure of his mouth, the forbidden heat of his body against hers, the gentle but insistent way he held her—every detail told Lira that this moment was hers now.

Her own breaths stuttered, her body arching to meet him, her heart thundering as she felt the same promise—the same depth and fullness—awaiting her.

The emerald light shimmered over them as their lips met again, tongues gliding, tasting, claiming. The rest of the world melted away, leaving only the pulse of longing and the sweet ache of anticipation.

And as Mikhailis’s warmth pressed closer, Lira knew she would not be left wanting.

Lira’s heart hammered as Mikhailis turned his full attention to her, the heat of his gaze sweeping away every last doubt. His lips found hers—soft at first, then deepening, the kiss swelling with promise and hunger, his tongue gliding along hers, coaxing, claiming, tasting every tremor of her anticipation. The world fell away, drowned by the velvet slide of their tongues and the dizzying warmth blooming between them.

He drew her close, hands slipping beneath the fall of her hair, cupping the base of her skull, guiding her with gentle insistence. His arms swept around her waist and, in one breathless motion, he lifted her—her legs instinctively winding around his hips, her breath catching as the lines of their bodies pressed flush.

She could feel it then—the forbidden length, the heavy, searing heat nudging at the edge of her longing, poised and insistent. Her body arched, skin tingling, every nerve alight as he pressed forward, the tension at last breaking as he entered her. The sensation was exquisite—full, overwhelming, a heat that spilled through her in molten waves.

A cry broke from her lips—unfiltered, helpless, "MMHHHH!! SLRP!" The syllables trembled in the air, half-muffled as Mikhailis caught her mouth in a hungry kiss, swallowing the sound as his tongue swept hers, his own breath ragged with the effort to be gentle, to savor the velvet depth of their union.

The rhythm began—a slow, powerful cadence, each motion drawing them closer, the soft thud and slap of flesh to flesh echoing in the chamber, not harsh but rhythmic, like distant thunder or rain against leaves—a primal music of longing and belonging.

With every movement, Lira felt herself unravel—her jealousy melting into surrender, the ache in her chest blooming into something fierce and sweet and uncontainable. She clung to him, every sensation magnified by the press of his body, the heat, the pulse, the impossible fullness.

Her breath shivered in her throat, every moan swallowed by his mouth, every tremor matched by his, their tongues dancing in the dark as their bodies spoke the language they had never dared put into words.

The world narrowed to a single point of contact: length, heat, the shivering line between pleasure and need, the secret ache now answered, the loneliness wiped clean by every insistent press, every stuttering gasp.

Around them, the emerald light flickered, painting their skin in strange, holy shades. Each breath, each "slrp," each whispered "mmhh" threaded the air with forbidden music—bodies moving, hearts racing, the poetry of touch written across every inch of bare skin.

And as the rhythm built, as the sound of their joining grew into a steady, wet symphony, Lira’s hands curled into Mikhailis’s back, holding him as if she could fuse their hearts through the thinness of skin and the overwhelming, beautiful heat.

Her voice—broken, blissful, pleading—slipped through the press of lips:

"MMHHH! YES—DON’T STOP—MMHHH! SLRP!"

And in that moment, nothing existed beyond the ache of fullness, the joy of being chosen, and the dizzy, forbidden warmth that bound them together at last.

The chamber blurred around them, emerald light flickering across skin and stone, as Mikhailis held Lira close—her body light in his arms, yet pressed to him with a fierce, unspoken longing. He kissed her deeply, the kind of kiss that left no air between them, just the wet glide and flicker of tongue against tongue, each stroke a promise, a challenge, a surrender.

His mouth coaxed her open, their lips moving in sync, slow and then urgent—her breath stuttering as his tongue found hers, sweeping, curling, tangling. The taste of him—heat, want, lingering sweetness—pulled her under until she could barely tell where she ended and he began. She answered his hunger with her own, tongue sliding and teasing, sometimes yielding, sometimes demanding, the rhythm of their mouths as intimate as the rhythm below.

Each movement of his hips sent a shiver through her, the forbidden warmth and impossible fullness drawing a gasp, a trembling moan, only to be caught and swallowed in another dizzying kiss. Their bodies found a cadence—press, withdraw, press—her legs clinging around his waist, her arms looping his neck, their chests pressed together, hearts hammering in unison.

Their kisses grew hungrier, wetter, the sound of tongues meeting echoing in the charged hush—slrp... slrp... slrp—filling the air alongside the growing percussion of their bodies:

thud... slap... thud... slap...

With every thrust, the slap of skin on skin mingled with the slick, intimate slrp of their mouths, each noise winding tighter around Lira’s nerves, sending fresh waves of heat flooding through her. The world shrank to the place where they joined, the pressure building with every heartbeat.

Mikhailis’s hand splayed against her back, guiding her, anchoring her as the rhythm built. His mouth left hers just long enough for a breath, a groan, before he dove back in—tongue claiming, lips bruising, the taste of his need and her own spinning together.

Lira let her head fall back, exposing the pale curve of her throat. Mikhailis’s lips found her neck, kissing, licking, tracing fire along her skin. Her moans spilled out, trembling and wild.

"MMHHHH!! SLRP!"

The sound was lost between his mouth and her own, but it vibrated through both of them, stoking the flames higher. He pressed harder, the length of him stretching her, filling her, the heat of their joining so intense it bordered on pain—sweet, necessary, devouring.

Every sense was heightened:

The slick friction, the slap and roll of hips, the velvet slide of his tongue tangling with hers, the wet music of their joining rising, falling, building.

Time twisted; minutes or hours, she couldn’t say. Each kiss deepened, each motion grew more urgent, her body strung tight as a bowstring. The pressure inside her mounted until it was all she could feel—her breath catching, her muscles shaking, her mind awash in sensation.

Mikhailis’s lips found hers one final time, kissing her with a desperate, trembling hunger. Their tongues danced, twined, the sound of their mouths echoing with every ragged breath:

slrp... slrp... slrp...

His pace quickened, the heat of him swelling within her, the rhythm pounding as flesh met flesh:

slap... slap... slap...

And then, with a shudder that tore through them both, the tension broke.

A final rush of molten heat flooded her, a pulse so deep it seemed to echo in her very bones, leaving her body slack and trembling in his arms. For a moment, Lira floated—weightless, filled, complete.

She slumped against his chest, catching his breath as her own, the air thick with the heady scent of their joining, the pulse of the emerald light glowing steady and satisfied above.

Mikhailis gently brushed her hair from her face, kissing her brow, holding her until her breathing slowed. Around them, the world was hushed, the only sound the soft aftermath of their union—their heartbeats, the final faint slrp of lips parting, the echoes of pleasure still trembling in the air.

Lira managed a smile, hazy and triumphant, and let her lips find his ear. Her voice was soft, a teasing, sated whisper:

"Hehe... now you have no choice but to include us in every session as well, you naughty prince."

He let out a long, breathless laugh, holding her close, his arms steady and strong.

Beside them, the emerald leaf seemed to glow in quiet approval, blessing the bond that had been sealed in the hush of the hidden chamber.

And in the lingering warmth, with satisfaction singing in her bones and laughter on her lips, Lira knew that jealousy had been transformed—not into rivalry, but into something fierce and loyal and utterly, beautifully shared.

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