Harem Master: Seduction System-Chapter 156: Hot Sex In Training Field (R-18) (2)
Lyra was riding him like a woman possessed, her hips bucking against his, her long blonde hair flying around her face like a golden halo.
She was a wild thing in this moment, all raw passion and untamed desire, her moans echoing across the ravaged training field.
Alaric gripped her hips, his knuckles white, his own rhythm becoming more frantic, more demanding, mirroring her escalating frenzy.
"That’s it, Mother," he growled, his voice rough with exertion, his ruby eyes fixed on her face, watching her pleasure build.
"Ride me, ride me hard. Show me what you’ve got." He reached up, his hands cupping her breasts, his thumbs flicking across her nipples, teasing them mercilessly as she bounced up and down on his shaft.
Lyra cried out, her head thrown back, her neck arched, exposing the delicate skin to his gaze. "Oh, Alaric… dear son… I’m… I’m close…" Her voice was a ragged whisper, her breath coming in short, gasping pants.
Her ocean blue eyes were glazed, unfocused, lost in the throes of pleasure, but they were still locked onto his, a silent, intense connection holding them together in this shared ecstasy.
Alaric could feel it too, the tightening coil of tension in his own body, bringing him closer to his own release.
The Beast Essence was amplifying everything, making the sensations almost unbearable, almost too intense, but in the most delicious way possible.
He thrust deeper, harder, meeting her frantic movements with his own driving rhythm, pushing them both closer and closer to the edge.
"Come on, Mother, let go," he urged, his voice a low growl, his teeth gritted against the intensity of the building pleasure. "Let it all go. Give it to me." He squeezed her breasts harder, his thumbs circling her nipples with increasing speed, pushing her over the precipice.
Lyra’s cry was a strangled gasp, a sound of pure, unadulterated release. Her body convulsed around him, her muscles clenching tight, her rhythm faltering for a moment before dissolving into a series of shuddering spasms. He felt her inner walls milking him, squeezing him, drawing every last drop of pleasure from him.
And then, his own climax hit, a roaring torrent of sensation that ripped through him, starting in his core and spreading outwards, engulfing his entire being. He groaned aloud, his head thrown back, his vision blurring at the edges as he emptied himself inside her, his seed spurting deep into her hot, wet depths.
They stayed locked together for a long moment after, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged, their hearts pounding in unison. Lyra slowly collapsed against him, her weight heavy on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder.
Alaric wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, feeling the lingering tremors of her orgasm still rippling through her body.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Alaric shifted slightly, pulling back just enough to look down at her face. Lyra’s eyes were still closed, her expression soft and sated, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"That was…" Alaric began, searching for the right word, "…intense."
Lyra chuckled softly, her eyes fluttering open, her gaze meeting his, still hazy with post-orgasmic bliss. "Intense is… an understatement, dear son," she murmured, her voice still a little breathless. "My legs feel like jelly." She shifted slightly, testing her limbs, then groaned playfully. "And my… everything feels thoroughly used."
Alaric grinned, a predatory gleam returning to his ruby eyes. "Used in the best way possible, I hope?" He squeezed her hips gently, reminding her of their still-joined state.
Lyra giggled again, a low, throaty sound. "Oh, definitely the best way, Alaric. But…" she trailed off, her smile turning knowing, a hint of playful challenge in her eyes, "I have a feeling… you’re not quite done yet, are you?"
Alaric chuckled, his grin widening. "Not even close, Mother," he admitted, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "One round with you is never enough. You know that." He shifted again, pulling out of her slowly, deliberately, letting her feel the full length of his shaft sliding out of her wet heat.
Lyra gasped softly, her eyes widening slightly as she felt him withdraw, but there was no protest in her expression, only anticipation. She knew him too well, knew his insatiable lust, knew that one climax was merely a prelude to more, much more.
"Alright then, dear son," she said, her voice regaining its playful tone, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, her back arched, her curves displayed in a breathtakingly exposed manner.
"What do you have in mind for round two?" She glanced back at him over her shoulder, her purple-tinged blue eyes sparkling with mischief and a hint of eager submission.
Alaric’s gaze raked over her exposed form, his breath catching in his throat. The doggy style position, out here in the ruined training field, with the morning sun now fully risen, casting long shadows across the ravaged ground… it was undeniably arousing, undeniably raw.
"Doggy style," he stated simply, his voice rough with renewed desire. "Right here, right now." He moved behind her, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer, positioning himself for entry.
Lyra let out a soft moan, her body instinctively arching towards him, her hips tilting upwards in invitation. "As you wish, Alaric," she whispered, her voice husky with anticipation. "Anything for my dear son."
He didn’t waste any more time on words. He plunged into her from behind, burying his shaft deep inside her, eliciting a sharp gasp of pleasure from her lips. The ruined training ground suddenly felt hotter, more charged, the air thick with unspoken desires and raw physicality.
This time, the pace was faster, more aggressive. Alaric gripped her hips tightly, his thrusts deep and powerful, his rhythm relentless.
He was rougher now, less gentle than before, driven by a primal need to possess her, to dominate her, to claim her completely.
He spanked her buttocks with each thrust, the sharp slaps echoing in the morning air, adding a new layer of sensation, a delicious sting that only seemed to heighten her pleasure.
"Ah! Alaric! Harder!" Lyra cried out, her moans becoming louder, more unrestrained. She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the ground, her breasts swaying wildly with each thrust, her nipples brushing against the torn fabric of her top. Your journey continues with novelbuddy
Alaric’s hands left her hips, moving upwards to cup her breasts again, kneading and squeezing them roughly, his thumbs flicking across her nipples, adding to the sensory overload.
He watched her from behind, his gaze feasting on the sight of her exposed body, the way her back arched, the way her breasts bounced, the way her hips moved to meet his thrusts. She was a vision of pure, unadulterated lust, and he was utterly, completely enthralled.
They came quickly this time, the intensity of the position, the roughness of his movements, the sheer pent-up desire driving them both to a rapid climax.
Lyra cried out again, her body convulsing around him, her moans turning into shuddering gasps. Alaric followed soon after, his own release a raw, explosive burst of sensation that ripped through him, leaving him breathless and panting.
He pulled out of her again, but this time, he didn’t move away. He simply flipped her over onto her back, his body still slick with sweat, his gaze still burning with lust.
Lyra lay beneath him, her chest heaving, her eyes glazed, her lips parted, a picture of utter satiation.
"Still not done, are you, dear son?" she murmured, a hint of playful exhaustion in her voice, but also a clear undercurrent of anticipation.
Alaric grinned, a predatory gleam in his ruby eyes. "Not even close, Mother," he repeated, his voice low and husky.
"We’ve barely even started." He leaned down, his lips finding hers, kissing her deeply, possessively, a promise of more pleasure, more intensity, more everything in that single kiss.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, the morning slowly turning into afternoon, but time seemed to stand still on the ravaged training field.
Round after round, Alaric and Lyra continued their sensual dance, their bodies entwined, their desires insatiable.
He made her kneel before him, her head bowed, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, and forced her to take him deep into her mouth, her experienced lips and tongue working magic, driving him to the brink of madness with pleasure.
He watched her, his gaze lingering on her face, the way her cheeks flushed, the way her eyes fluttered closed, the way her throat worked as she swallowed him deep.
He made her swallow his cum, coating her tongue and throat with his hot, thick seed, watching her expression, reveling in her willing submission.
He flipped her over again, making her lie on her stomach, her buttocks raised high, and tittyfucked her relentlessly, grinding his shaft between her large, soft breasts, his hands kneading and squeezing them, his thumbs flicking across her nipples, driving her to whimpering, moaning ecstasy.
He came again, spraying his semen across her face and body, watching it drip down her cheeks, her nose, her chin, mingling with the sweat and bath oils still clinging to her skin.
He had her in countless positions – missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, standing, kneeling, bent over, each one offering a different angle, a different sensation, a different way to explore her body, to drive her wild, to claim her as his own.
Each time, he pushed her to her limits, each time, she met him with an eager, willing surrender, her moans and cries of pleasure fueling his own insatiable lust.
By the time the sun was high overhead, bathing the ruined training field in the full light of afternoon, Alaric had lost count of how many times he had come inside her, how many times he had made her climax, how many times they had pushed each other to the brink of exhaustion and ecstasy.
But one thing was certain: his lust, for now, was finally, blessedly, satiated.
He lay sprawled beside Lyra, both of them naked, sweat-drenched, and utterly spent, the ravaged training field around them a silent testament to the intensity of their passion, their battle, their twisted, beautiful, and undeniably intoxicating relationship.
~~
After what felt like an eternity of pure, unadulterated physical exertion, Alaric and Lyra finally lay side-by-side on the ravaged training field, staring up at the now bright afternoon sky. Both were completely naked, utterly spent, and breathing like they had just run a marathon – or, well, several marathons back-to-back.
Lyra was the first to break the comfortable silence, letting out a long, dramatic sigh. "Oh, dear son," she groaned, turning her head to look at Alaric, her voice laced with playful exhaustion. "You have absolutely ravaged me. I swear, I think I need to sleep for a full day just to recover from that." She playfully swatted at his arm, though her touch was weak and lacked any real force.
Alaric chuckled, turning his head to meet her gaze, a lazy, satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Ravaged? Is that a complaint, Mother?" he teased, his ruby eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because from where I was standing – or rather, lying – it seemed like you were enjoying the… ravaging quite a bit."
Lyra rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a smile. "Oh, I was enjoying it, you beastly son of mine," she admitted, her breasts heaving slightly as she took another deep breath. "Don’t think for a second I wasn’t. But still," she added with mock seriousness, "a girl needs her rest, you know. Especially after being… thoroughly exercised like that."
Alaric laughed again, a low, rumbling sound. "Alright, alright, point taken. You’ve earned your rest, Mother. You fought valiantly… both in the spar and… well, after the spar." He winked suggestively, earning a playful glare from Lyra.
He pushed himself up to a sitting position, finally feeling the lingering fatigue in his muscles, despite the Beast Essence working its magic. He looked down at Lyra, still lying sprawled on the ground, her naked body gleaming with a light sheen of sweat in the afternoon sun. ’Can’t just leave her lying here like this,’ he thought, a possessive instinct kicking in. ’Not that I mind looking at her like this all day, but… servants and maids might start wandering around soon.’
Reaching into his ever-handy storage bag, he rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a large, plush robe of deep crimson silk. He unfolded it with a flick of his wrist and gently draped it over Lyra’s naked body, carefully covering her from shoulders to toes. He made sure to tuck it in securely, ensuring no stray glimpses of her skin were visible. ’Mine,’ he thought possessively, a primal satisfaction settling within him. ’That body is mine, and mine alone to see.’
Lyra watched him as he covered her, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Protective, are we, dear son?" she teased, her voice soft, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
Alaric shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though his gaze lingered on the robe-covered form beneath him. "Just being… considerate, Mother," he said, his tone casual. "Wouldn’t want you catching a chill, lying around naked on the… slightly damaged training field."
Lyra chuckled again, this time a bit weaker, a clear sign of her exhaustion. "Right, considerate," she repeated, drawing out the word with playful skepticism. "Or maybe you just don’t want anyone else to see what you’ve been… up to with your poor old mother?"
Alaric just grinned, not denying it. He carefully scooped her up into his arms, lifting her surprisingly light body with ease. Lyra instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder, her body completely relaxed in his embrace.
"Let’s just say," Alaric murmured, his voice close to her ear as he started walking towards the mansion, "what happens between us is… private. And best kept that way." He activated a subtle stealth spell, layering it over himself and Lyra, masking their presence, making them virtually invisible to casual observers. ’Stealth magic, always comes in handy,’ he thought wryly. ’Especially when you’re carrying your naked mother through the mansion after a rather… vigorous training session.’
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He moved with practiced ease, his footsteps light and silent, weaving through the manicured gardens and towards the secluded wing of the mansion where Lyra’s chambers were located. Lyra, nestled in his arms, was mostly silent now, her breathing slow and even, her body completely limp and relaxed. She was truly exhausted, he could feel it, but also completely content, utterly sated.
He reached her chambers without encountering a single servant or maid, his stealth spell working perfectly. He gently pushed open the door to her room with a flick of his magic, stepping inside and then closing it silently behind him. The room was cool and dim, a welcome contrast to the bright sunlight outside. He carried Lyra over to her large, plush bed and gently laid her down, arranging the crimson robe around her to keep her covered and warm.
Lyra sighed contentedly as she sank into the soft mattress, her eyes fluttering open again, though they were still heavy with sleepiness. "Thank you, Alaric," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "You’re… you’re very thoughtful, for a beastly son who just tried to kill his mother in a spar… and then… well, you know…"
Alaric chuckled, leaning over her, his hands gently brushing stray strands of blonde hair from her face. "Just returning the favor, Mother," he said softly, his gaze lingering on her still-flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "After all, you did try to sever me celestially, or whatever that crazy sword technique was called."
Lyra giggled weakly, closing her eyes again. "Celestial Severance," she corrected him, a hint of pride in her voice. "It’s quite impressive, isn’t it? Especially for a ’poor old mother’ who’s supposedly weighed down by… assets." She couldn’t resist throwing his earlier tease back at him, even in her exhausted state.
Alaric just grinned, shaking his head fondly. He stepped back from the bed, then snapped his fingers, casting a quick cleaning spell over both of them. A gentle shimmer of magic washed over their bodies, instantly removing all traces of dirt, sweat, and… well, other things, leaving them both feeling clean and refreshed, despite the lingering fatigue.
He looked down at Lyra, her eyes now fully closed, her breathing deep and even, her body completely relaxed, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that had been building up. She looked peaceful, beautiful, utterly vulnerable in her sleep.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "Rest well, Mother," he murmured, his voice soft and intimate. "And… thank you. For everything."
He straightened up, taking one last look at her sleeping form, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him – lust, affection, possessiveness, a strange sort of tenderness. He turned and quietly left her chambers, closing the door silently behind him, leaving Lyra to her well-deserved rest, and stepping out into the afternoon light, ready to face whatever the rest of the day might bring, feeling strangely… lighter, somehow, despite the looming threat of demons and the uncertain future.
’Time to figure out what the hell is going on with those demons anyway,’ he thought, his mind shifting gears from sensual pleasure to practical concerns. ’And maybe… just maybe… get in a little more training. Just in case.’
