The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort-Chapter 587: The Magician and Science (3)

"I’ll keep this secret, I swear it."

He placed his hand over hers, squeeze steady, warm, assuring. "I know."

Rodion drifted behind them like a fluffy moon, soft servos emitting the faint hum of a lullaby gone robotic.

<Emotional intensity detected. Probability of awkward silence: 71 percent. Suggest levity protocol—recommendation: affectionate gesture.>

Mikhailis tipped his head back, groaning at the stone ceiling. "Rodion says kiss her good-night."

Serelith’s answering laugh was low and delicious, the sound of dark chocolate snapping. "Does Rodion always schedule your romance?" she teased, sliding forward until the hem of her gown skimmed the toes of his boots.

"Only when my calendar’s full," he said—and then she was there, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, pulling him down. The first press of her lips was deliberate, almost polite. The second was nothing of the sort. Heat unfurled in Mikhailis’s chest, rolling outward in hungry waves. His hands coasted up her back; satin whispered beneath his palms. Her nails grazed the nape of his neck, sharp enough to spark a shiver down his spine.

She parted her lips, sly invitation. He took it, tasting clove and mint tea, tasting her. Their heads tilted—one heartbeat, two—then the kiss cracked open, wet, urgent. Breath mingled, quick and shallow. Her tongue brushed his; he answered with a soft growl that vibrated against her teeth. Somewhere, glass pipettes clinked as the bench trembled under his shifting weight.

She gasped into his mouth, tiny and startled by her own need. He swallowed the sound greedily, stealing another kiss, deeper. His fingers found the narrow dip of her waist, pulled her closer until not even air dared to squeeze between them. Heat pulsed where their bodies met.

Serelith tore her mouth free long enough to whisper, "Greedy prince," then caught his lower lip between her teeth and tugged, a playful bite that made him hiss and tighten his hold. She felt him then—hard, unmistakable, pressing against her abdomen through layers of fabric. A spark of wicked delight shot through her; her thighs clenched.

Mikhailis caught the flicker in her eye, felt the answering throb in his own body. Slow down before we set the workshop on fire. But desire overruled caution for one reckless heartbeat. He bent, hands scooping beneath her thighs, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a scroll. She gasped again, arms flying around his shoulders, stockinged legs instinctively locking at his back. The sudden motion pressed his length more firmly against her center; she shuddered, lips parting in a breathy moan that stroked his ego and fanned the heat between them.

Her corset’s silver clasps dug into his chest, delicious sting. He spun, bracing her against the nearest pillar—old cedar, slick with decades of wax—so he could kiss her properly. Mouths crashed again, wetter now, a humid slide that made their pulse points throb. His hand cupped the back of her skull, fingers tunneling through pink silk strands; hers roamed his shoulders, down to his chest, thumbs brushing the hard planes beneath linen.

The emerald leaf pulsed brighter, green reflections strobing across their tangled figures like a curious heartbeat. Rodion hovered a respectful meter away, optic slit flickering.

<Hormone levels elevated. Caution: laboratory surfaces rated for alchemical reactions, not passionate rendezvous.>

Mikhailis ignored the warning, rolling his hips just once. Serelith’s head knocked softly against the wood as sensation rippled through her—hot, immediate. She rocked back, meeting the push, and a low whimper escaped before she could swallow it. His cock throbbed through cloth, demanding, and she felt the blunt promise of what would come if she didn’t leave soon.

"Gods, you feel—" she whispered, voice cracking into a sigh when he kissed the hollow below her ear.

"Dangerous?" he offered, lips brushing her skin, tasting salt and rose. "Heroic? Reckless?"

"All three," she managed, nipping his earlobe in revenge. Her nails dragged down the back of his neck again; he shivered, pressing harder. Satin rustled, wood creaked, air thickened with the smell of desire—something musky and electric that swirled with resin and candle smoke.

She rolled her hips once more, deliberate. The thick ridge of him slid along her core, separated only by satin and lace. Heat pooled low in her belly; her breath stuttered. One more grind and she might beg—a thought that thrilled and terrified her equally.

The cedar pillar groaned under their weight, its polished surface slick with decades of wax, reflecting the emerald leaf’s pulsing glow like a heartbeat caught in amber. Serelith’s thighs, clad in sheer black lace stockings, tightened around Mikhailis’s hips, the delicate silver roses embroidered along the garters glinting faintly as they caught the lamplight. Her emerald satin gown, already bunched high from their earlier frenzy, now rode up further, exposing the creamy expanse of her thighs and the taut black garter straps digging into her soft flesh. The silver buckles of her corset pressed sharply into his chest, a delicious sting that grounded him in the heat of their tangled bodies. Her pink hair, wild and damp with sweat, spilled over her shoulders, strands clinging to the curve of her neck where a bead of perspiration traced a slow, glistening path toward the plunging neckline of her corset.

Mikhailis’s hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into the soft give of her flesh through the lace, anchoring her against the pillar as he pressed himself closer. The thick ridge of his cock, straining against the leather of his trousers, rubbed against her core, the friction sending sparks of heat through them both. Serelith’s breath hitched, her violet eye gleaming with a mix of defiance and raw need, the monocle dangling from its silver chain swaying wildly with each movement. Her lips, swollen and flushed from their earlier kisses, parted in a soft gasp, and she rolled her hips instinctively, chasing the pressure of his hardness against her. The satin of her gown rustled, a soft counterpoint to the wet, urgent sounds of their mouths colliding moments ago.

"Gods, you’re driving me mad," she whispered, her voice a husky purr that vibrated against his jaw. Her nails, painted a deep amethyst, dragged down his neck, leaving faint red trails that made him hiss. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, the corset’s whalebone stays creaking as her chest heaved. The scent of her arousal—musky, sweet, with a hint of her vanilla-rose perfume—filled the air, mingling with the resinous tang of the cedar and the faint metallic bite of the workshop’s rune burners.

Mikhailis growled low, his lips brushing the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt of her skin. "You’re not the only one losing it," he muttered, his voice rough with want. He shifted his hips, grinding against her, the friction of his trousers against her lace panties sending a jolt through her body. Serelith’s head tipped back against the pillar, a low moan escaping her lips, her thighs trembling as she tightened her grip around him. The lace of her stockings rasped against his leather-clad hips, the sound a soft, teasing whisper in the charged air.

She couldn’t help herself—her hips rocked harder, the motion deliberate and desperate, seeking more of that delicious pressure. The thin lace of her panties, already damp with her arousal, shifted under the relentless friction, and then—by accident or fate—the delicate fabric slipped to the side. The sudden exposure of her slick, swollen pussy to the rough leather of his trousers made her gasp, her body jolting as the blunt head of his cock, still confined by fabric, pressed directly against her bare folds. The sensation was electric, a raw, overwhelming fullness that made her core clench with need. Her pussy, flushed a deep pink, glistened with her juices, the labia parted slightly to reveal the sensitive bud of her clit, throbbing with every heartbeat.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Serelith’s moan broke free, loud and unrestrained, but Mikhailis was quick—his mouth crashed onto hers, swallowing the sound in a searing kiss. His lips devoured hers, not just kissing but claiming, his tongue plunging deep to tangle with hers, tasting the clove and mint of her breath. He sucked on her lower lip, then her upper, pulling gently with his teeth, making her whimper into his mouth. The kiss was a storm, wet and consuming, and it felt like heaven—a dizzying spiral of heat and need that left her trembling against the pillar. Her hands clutched his shoulders, nails digging into the linen of his shirt, as she rocked against him, chasing the sensation of his cock pressing against her exposed pussy.

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