Chapter 394 - 393- Lovely Moments with Wives Before Departure
Specifically: ’between,’ in the sense of a man who had found the exact positioning that allowed his cock to reach each of them from the center, alternating, the geometry of this working because they’d been at it long enough to find the geometry.
He was inside Mira.
Her pussy — the pussy he had been told he needed to ’seal,’ in the bathroom two days ago, in the specific phrasing of a joke that had landed exactly the way it was intended — gripped him with the specific welcome of something that had been waited for. Pregnancy had changed the interior of her in ways he was actively appreciating: fuller, more sensitive, the walls of her responsive to even shallow movement with the kind of feedback that normal operation didn’t produce.
PAH. PAH.
"’Hngh~!! Hah~!!’"
Mira’s breasts — enormous now, the milk-full weight of them — moved with each thrust, swinging in the direction of the impact, the nipples already beading. Her belly rose and fell with her breathing, amplifying each small motion, the jiggle of her entire body visible from belly to breast to the soft tremor of her thighs.
He pulled out.
Shifted.
Helena.
"’Oh—OH—’" Helena’s sound was immediate, the specific sound of someone who had been watching and waiting and had just stopped waiting. Her hands went to her belly, holding it from below, the full round weight of it between her spread thighs, and her back arched into the bed.
PAH. PAH. PAH!
"’Young master~!! Hah~!! Oungh~!!’"
Her breasts were ’catastrophic’ in motion. Both of them, swinging with the impact, the weight of milk making them heavy and slow and pendulum-vast, the nipples spraying fine mist with each swing — not just beading, ’spraying,’ her milk responding to the vibration of each thrust with the complete overabundance of a body that had been making more than it had been releasing. Each impact sent a shudder through her from pelvis to breast and the breast continued the motion after the source impulse had ended, swinging forward, back, forward.
Her belly jiggled.
The warm round dome of it, the pregnancy weight shifting with each thrust, the skin taut and gleaming in the room’s amber light.
’’He’s — deep — he’s always deeper when I’m like this — the pregnancy has moved everything — I can feel him against something that was never there before and it’s—’’
Her thighs tightened.
He shifted back.
Mira.
"’WAIT—’" Mira reached for him as he went, her hand finding his forearm, the involuntary reach of a body that had just registered ’absence’ and had opinions about it. Her green-crimson eyes found his face. "’Don’t—’"
"’I’m coming back,’" he said.
PAH. PAAAH!
"’HIEK~!! AAANGH~!!’"
Mira’s hips came up off the bed. Her belly swayed hard to the side with the motion, her hands flying down to hold it, and the milk that had been beading at her nipples shook loose in two thin arcs across the sheets.
He came back to Helena.
And then Mira.
And then Helena.
The alternating rhythm of it — the specific attention of a man ensuring that neither of them was waiting long enough to lose the thread — building each of them in parallel, Helena’s volume increasing with each return, Mira’s control degrading with each visit, both of them climbing toward the same summit by different paths.
PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH!
"’Oungh~!! AANGH~!! HAH~!!’" — Helena, both hands on her belly, her enormous breasts swinging, her eyes rolled halfway back—
"’NGH~!! HNGH~!! DON’T STOP—’" — Mira, sheets gripped, thighs shaking, her twin-belly bouncing with each impact—
Viktor looked between them.
At two pregnant women, side by side, both of them completely undone, both of their bodies in the specific full-bloom state of late pregnancy that doubled every response, amplified every sensation, made every thrust a full-body event rather than a local one.
His hands found both of them simultaneously.
One on Mira’s breast.
One on Helena’s.
He pinched.
Both nipples. At the same time.
"’HIEK~!!’" — Mira—
"’AANGH~!!’" — Helena—
The milk ’shot.’
From both of them simultaneously — the hard jet of it, the overfull pressure finding its release all at once, spraying up and across the sheets, across his hands, the warm sweet smell of it filling the room immediately, both women crying out together in the mixed register of the sensation — the pleasure of release and the sensitivity of the pinch and the culmination of everything that had been building.
Viktor released.
His own release, filling Mira first — the deep pulsing heat of it, her interior clenching around him with the full-force grip of her orgasm arriving at the same moment — and then he pulled out and found Helena and came again, the system’s ’Breeding God’ ability ensuring what biology alone couldn’t, emptying into Helena with the second full release that left him breathing through his teeth.
Her pussy locked around him.
Her back arched.
Her breasts, mid-swing, sprayed the last of their milk pressure in two thin arcs over the sheets, over his chest, over Mira beside her, and Helena made the sound she made when she was fully ’done’ — the long, low, boneless sound, not a moan exactly, the sound of a woman whose body has finished all of its outstanding business.
Viktor fell.
Forward. Between them. His hands — still gripping each of their breasts, still holding the full warm weight of them — kept their position as he went, landing in the specific way of someone who has used everything available and has arrived at horizontal by necessity.
His right hand: Mira’s breast.
His left hand: Helena’s.
Both of them warm and full and leaking faintly against his palms.
He looked at the ceiling.
Breathing.
On his right, Mira’s face — flushed from cheekbone to chest, her eyes half-rolled, the specific glazed quality of someone whose brain had briefly exceeded its operating temperature and was in the process of rebooting. Her belly rose and fell with her rapid breath.
On his left, Helena — crimson-faced, eyes shut, the warm weight of her breast still in his hand, her body boneless against the bed in the full-body relaxation of complete arrival.
Viktor breathed.
The room smelled of milk and sex and the warm wood of the tower’s living walls.
"’That was exciting,’" he said.
His voice came out slightly hoarser than intended.
On his right, Mira’s eyes found his face.
On his left, Helena opened hers.
They looked at him.
A pause — the specific pause of two women consulting the shared record of the last hour.
"’You were,’" Mira said, with great precision, "’too rough.’"
"’Much too rough,’" Helena agreed, gently.
A silence.
Then Mira turned her head.
She pressed her lips against his cheek — his right cheek, her side. The soft warm press of it, unhurried, staying for a moment before pulling back.
Helena turned.
His left cheek. The same quality — warm, deliberate, the full stop of a statement rather than a punctuation mark.
Viktor looked at the ceiling.
Both cheeks warm.
Both women breathing beside him, their bellies rising and falling, their hands finding his arms with the unconscious reach of people whose bodies had decided this was where they were and were settling in.
"Husband, Bella said you were planning to head to Capital City?"
"....Yeah, but I will come before you both give birth."