The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

Cerys remained atop Mikhailis, her sharp green eyes flickering with a rare uncertainty. The usual stoicism that defined her seemed to falter for a moment, as though the weight of her guarded nature had been temporarily lifted. She hesitated, then softly admitted, "I guess… I do get comfortable in this position."

Her words settled in the air like an unexpected confession, carrying more weight than either of them anticipated. Mikhailis's brow lifted slightly, a flicker of amusement crossing his face as his lips curved into his characteristic smirk.

"Comfortable, huh?" he teased gently, his voice lower than usual, as if responding to the unspoken intimacy of the moment. Did she just admit that?

The faintest shade of pink blossomed across Cerys's cheeks, her usual composure betraying her. She quickly glanced away, suddenly hyperaware of how closely they were pressed together. The solid warmth of him beneath her, coupled with the undeniable pressure against her thigh and crotch, sent a wave of heat through her. She tried to steady her breathing, but the hitch in her breath gave her away.

Mikhailis didn't miss it. His sharp eyes caught the subtle changes in her demeanor—the slight tremble of her hands, the way her chest rose and fell with measured breaths. His gaze traveled upward, lingering on her fiery red hair, which had come undone from its usual ponytail. Loose waves framed her face, cascading down her shoulders, softening her sharp features in a way he'd never seen before. It was disarming.

She's different like this… The thought brushed the edges of his mind, unbidden but persistent. His smirk shifted, softening into something less performative, more sincere. Without realizing it, his hand moved of its own accord, lifting to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. His fingertips barely grazed her skin, but it was enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Cerys froze, her breath catching again as her green eyes snapped back to his. The tension between them grew thicker, heavier. She didn't pull away; instead, she remained rooted in place, her defenses momentarily lowered in a way that felt both terrifying and exhilarating.

Mikhailis's hand lingered for a moment before moving to rest lightly against her waist. His touch was gentle, unassuming, yet it seemed to burn through the fabric of her tunic.

"You're full of surprises, Lone Wolf," he murmured, his voice holding a teasing lilt, but the usual sharpness was absent. This time, it carried an undercurrent of admiration.

Cerys's fingers tightened slightly on his shoulders, grounding herself against the unfamiliar vulnerability of the situation. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her gaze flickered to his lips before darting back to his eyes, a silent war playing out in her mind.

"You're not exactly predictable yourself," she finally managed, her voice soft and tinged with nervousness she rarely allowed herself to feel.

Mikhailis chuckled softly, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Fair enough."

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the world around them fading into irrelevance. Slowly, deliberately, Mikhailis leaned in, his movements careful and unhurried, as though testing the waters. Cerys's breath hitched again, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Cerys's hand, still resting on his shoulder, tightened its grip slightly, as if grounding herself. Her lips parted just a fraction, and that was all the encouragement Mikhailis needed.

When their lips met, it was hesitant at first, a tentative brush of warmth that carried years of unspoken tension, like a whisper in the stillness of a long-forgotten storm. The touch was so light, so fleeting, that it felt like the first tentative steps onto fragile ice, testing its strength. But the moment lingered, and with it, the hesitation began to dissolve, replaced by a tide of emotions that surged, unbidden and unstoppable.

Cerys's breath hitched as she leaned into him, her hands trembling slightly as they slid up to cradle his face. The initial softness gave way to an almost desperate intensity, each movement a testament to the barriers they had both constructed and were now so recklessly shattering. Her fingers brushed against the sharp edges of his jawline, her touch tender yet insistent, grounding her in this surreal moment.

Mikhailis responded in kind, his lips moving with hers in a rhythm that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. His hand, which had been resting hesitantly at her waist, tightened its grip slightly, pulling her closer. The warmth of her body pressed against his sent a wave of heat coursing through him, igniting something deep and primal. His other hand found its way to the back of her neck, tangling gently in the fiery strands of her hair. The silken texture of it was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the raw passion coursing between them.

The air around them seemed to shift, charged with an electric intensity that neither could ignore. Their breaths grew heavier, mingling in the narrow space between them as the kiss deepened further. Mikhailis tilted his head slightly, his lips parting to tease hers with a light, deliberate motion. Cerys gasped softly, her lips yielding as his tongue brushed against them, seeking entry. She parted them instinctively, and the kiss transformed from a simple connection to a fervent exploration.

Their tongues met tentatively at first, an unspoken question lingering between them as they explored the unfamiliar connection. Gradually, confidence grew, their movements synchronizing in a slow, deliberate rhythm that left them both breathless. The initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a mix of curiosity and an undeniable yearning that coursed through them like fire.

Mikhailis's hand, which had rested cautiously at her waist, began a slow descent, his fingers brushing against the curve of her back before settling at the small of her spine. The contact drew Cerys even closer, her body molding against his as though the space between them was inconceivable. Their damp clothes, clinging from their earlier escape, only heightened the sensation, the thin layers doing little to mask the heat radiating between them.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped Cerys as Mikhailis deepened the kiss, his lips moving with hers in a dance that grew bolder with each passing moment. Her hands, trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation, slid up to cradle his face, her fingertips grazing the sharp angles of his jaw. She could feel the faint rasp of stubble against her palms, a grounding contrast to the dizzying intensity of their connection.

Their tongues met again, this time with more urgency, exploring each other with deliberate movements that sent shivers coursing down their spines. Cerys's breath hitched, a quiet gasp muffled against his lips as his tongue teased hers, coaxing her into a rhythm that left no room for second-guessing. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as her body pressed closer, her mind consumed by the sensations she had so carefully avoided for years.

Mikhailis, for his part, was equally undone. The usual bravado that defined him had vanished, replaced by a vulnerability that felt both foreign and exhilarating. Each stroke of her tongue against his, each soft moan that escaped her, chipped away at the walls he hadn't realized he'd built. His free hand moved to her hip, gripping gently but firmly, as though afraid she might slip away and break the spell.

The air around them seemed charged, heavy with the weight of their shared desire. The subtle noises in the stillness of the forest only served to amplify the intimacy of the moment. The faint rustle of fabric as Cerys shifted slightly atop him, the quiet, shaky exhale that escaped her lips, and the muted thud of her hand against his chest—all these sounds layered a symphony of tension between them.

Mikhailis felt his heart thud heavily against his ribcage, each beat echoing in his ears as he took in the sight of her above him. Her loose red hair framed her face in soft, fiery waves, cascading over her shoulders and brushing against his cheeks. It was so unlike her usual practical ponytail, and the unrestrained wildness of it made something stir deep within him. Her green eyes, wide with hesitation and unspoken yearning, flicked over his face before settling on his lips.

Cerys… you're incredible like this.

She was no longer the stoic knight he'd come to know—the Lone Wolf who kept others at arm's length. In this moment, she was simply a woman, vulnerable yet commanding, her usual armor of indifference stripped away to reveal the raw emotions beneath. Mikhailis couldn't help but drink in the sight of her, his sharp gaze tracing the curve of her jaw, the faint flush across her cheeks, and the soft rise and fall of her chest as her breathing quickened.
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His tongue darted out briefly, wetting his lips as he fought to keep his composure. He opened his mouth to say something witty, something that might break the intensity of the moment, but the words caught in his throat when Cerys suddenly shifted her weight.

She leaned ever so slightly forward, and the movement pressed her body more firmly against his. He felt the warmth of her thighs tightening around him, the firmness of her toned frame grounding him in place. And then there was that—the unignorable pressure where her hips met his. Mikhailis swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he felt the way her body moved against his.

Cerys didn't miss his reaction. Her sharp eyes darted downward, catching the subtle bob of his Adam's apple as he gulped. A flicker of something mischievous—so unlike her usual guarded demeanor—danced in her gaze. Her lips curved upward in the faintest, most dangerous of smiles, and Mikhailis felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks.

She's doing that on purpose, isn't she?