The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

"Oh my..." Talyra whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Gods above..." Nessa added, her voice equally shocked.

Mikhailis continued to pretend he didn't hear anything, his eyes fixed on the pages of the book as he turned them slowly. But he could feel the weight of their gaze on him, the heat of their eyes as they took in the sight of his body.

And then, the sensation came. The sensation of lips and tongue, timid at first, as if unsure of what to do.

"Mmm..." Talyra murmured, her lips wrapping around him like a gentle vice.

The sound was like a soft slurping, a wet and sloppy noise that seemed to echo through the sacred grove.

"Slurp... slurp..." the sound went, as Talyra tried to take him in.

But it was too huge, and she was struggling. The sound of her gagging, the soft choking noise as she tried to accommodate his size, was like music to his ears.

"Gag... gag..." the sound went, as Talyra struggled to take him deeper.

Mikhailis could feel her tongue working, trying to find a way to take him deeper, but it was no use.

"Oh... oh..." Talyra whispered, her voice strained with effort.

Mikhailis looked down, his eyes gazing over the edge of the book to see the two priestesses below him. Talyra and Nessa, their silver hair shining in the dim light of the grove, their dark skin a beautiful contrast to the pale color of their hair.

Their pointed ears, a trait of their dark elf lineage, were slightly different from each other, each one unique in its own way. Talyra's ears were slightly more rounded, with a delicate curve that gave her an otherworldly beauty. Nessa's ears, on the other hand, were more angular, with a sharp point that seemed to pierce the air.

As Mikhailis looked at them, he felt a sense of wonder. They were beautiful, these two priestesses, with their dark skin and silver hair. And yet, it was weird for him, this situation that they found themselves in. The sacred grove, the Saintess who could come back at any moment, and yet, he couldn't help but want to continue.

The sound of Talyra's struggles, the soft gagging noise as she tried to take him in, was like a siren's call to him. He felt himself getting harder, his body responding to the sensation of her lips and tongue.

"Mmm... mmm..." Talyra murmured, her lips and tongue working in tandem to try and take him deeper.

And then, Nessa joined in, her lips and tongue working in tandem with Talyra's.

"Slurp... slurp..." the sound went, as the two priestesses worked together to try and take him in.

The sound was like a chorus, a wet and sloppy noise that seemed to echo through the grove. Mikhailis felt himself getting lost in the sensation, his body responding to the touch of the two priestesses.

"Oh... oh..." Talyra whispered, her voice strained with effort.

"Mmm... mmm..." Nessa added, her voice equally enthusiastic.

As Mikhailis looked down at them, he felt a sense of awe. They were beautiful, these two women, with their dark skin and silver hair. And yet, it was weird for him, this situation that they found themselves in. But he couldn't help but want to continue, to see where this would lead.

The sound of their struggles, the soft gagging noise as they tried to take him in, was like music to his ears. He felt himself getting harder, his body responding to the sensation of their lips and tongue.

"Gag... gag..." the sound went, as Talyra struggled to take him deeper.

"Slurp... slurp..." the sound went, as Nessa worked to take him in.

And then, Mikhailis felt it. The sensation of release, the warm and sticky feeling as he came.

"Ahh..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The sound was like a sigh, a soft exhalation of breath as he let go. And as he looked down at the two priestesses, he felt a sense of wonder. They were beautiful, these two women, with their dark skin and silver hair. And yet, it was weird for him, this situation that they found themselves in. But he couldn't help but want to continue, to see where this would lead.

"Mmm... mmm..." Talyra murmured, her lips and tongue still working to clean him up.

"Slurp... slurp..." the sound went, as Nessa worked to take in every last drop.

Mikhailis felt himself getting lost in the sensation, his body responding to the touch of the two priestesses. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help but want to continue. The sacred grove, the Saintess who could come back at any moment, and yet, he couldn't help but want to see where this would lead.

As the two priestesses continued to work on him, Mikhailis felt himself getting harder again. The sensation was like a never-ending cycle, a constant ebb and flow of pleasure and desire.

"Mmm... mmm..." Talyra murmured, her lips and tongue working in tandem to try and take him deeper.

"Slurp... slurp..." the sound went, as the two priestesses worked together to try and take him in.

And Mikhailis, lost in the sensation, couldn't help but want to continue. The sacred grove, the Saintess who could come back at any moment, and yet, he couldn't help but want to see where this would lead.

The chamber seemed to hold its breath, the weight of ancient memories pressing gently against the present moment. Mikhailis's body thrummed with a pulse that matched the slow, deliberate heartbeat of the Grove itself—old, alive, and watchful. The accidental contact had unleashed something unexpected, a flood of heat and motion that spilled forth like a river breaking through a dam.

A warm current, barely contained, traced its path across sacred fabric and tender skin, glistening like dew in the soft, pulsating light of the breathing library. The two priestesses, Talyra and Nessa, paused, their wide eyes flickering with surprise, then softened into something almost reverent, as though the very essence of that release was an offering, a sacred token woven with both power and vulnerability.

Silence stretched, taut and electric. The scent of the Grove mingled with the faint trace of that intimate outpouring, infusing the air with a charged sweetness—like blossoms heavy with nectar just before dusk.

Then, slowly, one hand reached out. Talyra's fingers trembled but were resolute as they brushed a stray lock of hair from Nessa's flushed cheek. The gesture was gentle, almost tender—a communion beyond words. Their eyes locked, shimmering with a shared understanding that transcended the awkwardness of the moment.

A soft exhale, barely a whisper, broke the stillness. Lips met in a delicate, searching kiss—tentative at first, then growing with the slow warmth of embers coaxed into flame. Their breaths mingled, a quiet symphony of sighs and gentle murmurings that echoed softly in the vaulted chamber.

Mikhailis watched, breath caught in his throat, as the priestesses tended to each other with a reverence that transformed the unexpected act into a ritual of cleansing and connection. Their soft lips moved with a grace that belied the tension, tongues tracing slow arcs and tender flicks, weaving a tapestry of sensation both ancient and new.

The taste—subtle, intoxicating—lingered on his tongue long after their lips parted. Earthy notes entwined with the faint sweetness of starwater and something indescribably pure, a flavor that spoke of hidden groves and secret rituals passed down through generations.

Drawn irresistibly, Mikhailis leaned forward, his breath mingling with theirs as he captured Talyra's lips in a kiss that was at once gentle and commanding. His hands found the curve of Nessa's waist, pulling her closer as their mouths met in slow, deliberate exploration.

The air between them pulsed—warm, charged, and fragile.

Mikhailis's breath came slower now, more deliberate, as he tilted his head and leaned into Talyra once more. Her eyes fluttered closed. Their lips met—this time, not by accident, not in startled panic—but in invitation. A soft gasp escaped her lips just before their mouths touched, and then—

"Mmm..."

"Slrp..."

The sound was gentle, unhurried, like petals brushing together in wind. His lips molded against hers in slow pressure, savoring the warmth, the slight tremble in her breath. Her mouth opened just enough, and his tongue traced along the edge of her lower lip before slipping inside.

It was a dance—soft at first. A whisper, a tease.

"Ahh… Your Highness..."

"Nnh… mm… slrp..."

Her voice trembled into his, and he tasted something like wildflowers beneath morning dew—sweet, yet laced with something deeper. His tongue moved slowly, brushing against hers, circling, retreating, then returning again with purpose. Talyra responded instinctively, her own tongue curling around his in a shy, unpracticed rhythm, like two melodies finding the same song.

From the other side, Mikhailis felt movement. Nessa—quiet, watchful Nessa—had edged closer. Her fingers, hesitant but drawn by some invisible pull, brushed his arm. She leaned in, cheeks flushed with rising heat, until her breath kissed his jaw.

He didn't forget her. He turned, gently releasing Talyra, and captured Nessa's mouth in the same careful fire. This kiss was different. Where Talyra's was soft and curious, Nessa's was hesitant—then suddenly hungry.

"Mnnh… slrp…"

"Mmm… Your Highness…"

"Haah…"

Their mouths clung together with rhythmic intensity, parting only to draw breath before returning again. His tongue sought hers, coaxed it, pulled her into the warmth. Her lips were softer, cooler, but warmed quickly as their tongues met—again and again—in a rhythm that built like waves on polished stone.

Behind him, Talyra's hand grazed his shoulder. She didn't want to be forgotten either. Mikhailis pulled back from Nessa only enough to breathe between them—and then turned again, giving Talyra a second kiss, deeper this time. He kissed her like a promise, then Nessa again like a prayer.

Back and forth.

Their lips grew slick with shared heat, and the air filled with whispered sighs, the gentle, sacred friction of breath and hunger entwined.

"Slrp… mmm…"

"Ahh… mmh… Your Highness… it's… it's too warm…"

"Nnh…"

His hand moved to the curve of Talyra's waist, then Nessa's back, guiding them both closer. They folded into him like vines curling toward the sun. His fingers didn't wander far—only tracing lines along their sides, over moonweave robes that barely concealed the rising warmth underneath. His touch was reverent, like reading runes carved on sacred bark—fingers grazing the symbols but not pressing too deep.

Their bodies trembled—his breath caught—yet none of them broke the rhythm.

"Slrp… ah—mmmh…"

"You're… good at this…" Nessa whispered, voice light and dazed.

"I-it's… distracting…" Talyra added, cheeks pink as peach bloom.

Mikhailis smiled against her lips, his voice a murmur. "Then I'll slow down."

He didn't.

He took them both by the hand and eased them down into the moss-woven cushion beneath the breathing shelves. One girl on either side—he kissed Nessa again, softly, then turned and pressed his forehead to Talyra's, brushing his thumb over her lips before claiming another kiss that left her breathless.

"Slrp… mnh…"

The sounds that followed were soft but unmistakable—a rhythmic slrp, the gentle mmm of approval, the whispered reverence of "Your Highness..." woven with breathy sighs. Each sound was a thread in the growing tapestry of desire and discovery, binding them closer in the quiet sanctuary.

Their tongues danced in a delicate ballet—caressing, probing, retreating and returning in perfect harmony. Mikhailis savored the softness, the warmth, the subtle resistance that made each movement a promise. The kiss deepened, slow and unhurried, a sacred exchange that stirred the deepest currents of longing.

His hands moved with care, tracing the contours beneath the flowing robes that now seemed less a barrier and more an invitation. Fingers brushed against silken fabric, finding the warmth pooled in hidden hollows, eliciting shivers and soft gasps that filled the chamber with a gentle music of yearning.

The dance continued, a slow crescendo of touch and taste that wove them together like the roots of the Grove itself—intertwined, growing stronger in the fertile soil of trust and shared desire.

Yet restraint, fragile as a blossom in spring, began to wane. A soft voice, trembling with the edge of surrender, whispered, "I cannot stand it anymore…"

With a shared glance full of unspoken promises, both priestesses slowly lifted the hems of their robes. Delicate undergarments, dampened and glistening faintly in the soft glow, were revealed—intimate and vulnerable, yet fierce in their invitation. Their eyes shone with a mixture of courage and desire, a silent beckoning that stirred something primal and profound within Mikhailis.

His pulse quickened, the ancient roots beneath them seeming to pulse in time with the rising heat. The Grove, witness to countless secrets and whispered truths, held them in its embrace, a silent guardian of both sin and salvation.

Mikhailis's breath caught as he reached out, his fingers brushing the delicate fabric, feeling the warmth beneath. The air hummed with potential—the fragile balance between surrender and control, between reverence and passion.

In that sacred space, boundaries blurred. The past and present entwined as the Grove's memory breathed life into the moment, weaving them into a story both forbidden and eternal.