Chapter Sixteen #2
A rush of tingling warmth gathers in my breasts, spills from my nipples, and gushes down my tits to drench the sheets beneath us. My sharp cry of pleasure spirals over Vasili’s soft exclamation and Max’s satisfied moan.
“That’s your first letdown, bae,” Mordred grunts with satisfaction as he fucks into me from behind. “Nice generous one too, ain’t it?”
Max can literally no longer contain himself. He cradles my tit, latches onto my gushing nipple like a baby, groans in deep pleasure, then takes over the rhythmic suck that relieves the pressure of my overfull breast and feels so . Fucking. Good.
With his mouth.
Mordred thoughtfully keeps up the tentacle kneading, basically milking me into Max’s mouth.
Which is just really sweet and decent.
Mordred’s kraken is sterile, turns out, but he’s never for one moment hesitated about welcoming and loving and accepting all our collective offspring as his.
So it’s totally on brand that he would milk me for Max.
Yet even in this moment of supreme excitement for an alpha dragon shifter with a major breeding kink whose mate is lactating for the very first time (months ahead of plan), Max isn’t too far gone to make room for the Goblin King.
The whole time I’ve known him, Vasili has reveled in proclaiming his absolute disdain for poor Max’s breeding kink and Vasili’s own complete disinterest in all things baby.
But ever since I turned fertile and V knocked me up, Vasili’s been every bit as much into this whole breeding thing as Max.
If not, like, worse.
In this and all things, V is always over the top.
Those two of my alphas settle in together, limbs entwined, with the ease of the long-time lovers they are. Max’s golden Black Sea suntan smolders against Vasili’s streamlined pallor.
Then the cool silk of Vasili’s mouth closes around the nipple Max hasn’t already claimed. The needle prick of V’s tiny fangs makes the twin punctures of my mating bite—the one he sank into my tit back in Season One without asking—sing with sensation.
When a torrent of milk fills his mouth, my snake purrs with pleasure.
The gush on that side was starting to slow to a trickle. Now a fresh rush of pleasure at his pleasure surges through me.
My toes curl and my back arches and another warm gush floods through me.
“Second letdown.” Mordred rumbles with approval, tentacles still milking me into both our mates’ eager mouths and sucking on my clit like a lollipop.
“I feel like a fucking hucow,” I moan, shuddering with the aftershocks of my latest magic moment. “Made for breeding and… milking.”
Mordred nuzzles reassurance into my bare shoulder and the side of my neck. His silky blue whiskers tickle my skin. “Naw, s’all good. This is good for you, baby queen. And it’s gonna be good for the kids. You’re sigma.”
In the end, of course, he’s right.
Turns out all my guys are fully on board.
Even the ones who aren’t biologically about to be fathers.
My inaugural lactation experience doesn’t last long enough for Vasili or Max to guzzle more than a few swallows each.
But I don’t think I’ve ever come harder in my life than I do with both of them hungrily suckling me, while Mordred simultaneously double-dicks me from behind and tentacle-suctions my clit like a vacuum.
With the rest of our polycule enjoying the show, each in his own way.
Neo fumbles his glasses onto his excited face and watches intently, eyes round as binocular lenses, while Zephyr and Ash cuddle him for reassurance and share slow tender kisses over his curly head.
Ronin emerges from his heat-induced sex coma just long enough to whisper into Lucius’ fascinated ear a litany of filthy observations about my new lactation gig and how the two of them will participate next time, like, intimately.
Speaking of Lucius.
Dayum.
Our wolf shifter headmaster is simultaneously so titillated, satisfied, and intellectually stimulated by this entire lactation experience.
I swear I can already see a complete academic paper on the subject of Aries lactation priming—embellished with footnotes, detailed diagrams, and scholarly citations—winging its way into the next issue of the Witching World Nature science journal.
Once upon a time, I woulda pushed back against that kinda exposure— hard— to protect all our privacy from the paparazzi. I mean, does the entire population really need to know I’m already lactating?
But, well, I’m different now.
We all are.
From the start of our union—the night we all fucked live on WNN to win the Dean’s Challenge, ace our finals, and claim my witching world crown—this whole royal pregnancy sitch has been a totally public affair.
Just one long fertility ritual shared and celebrated by the whole precious witching world we’ve saved.
This is my life.
Our life. Our love.
The one we chose to build and share together. All nine of us.
With everyone included and no one left out—ever.
Now and forever.
And we wouldn’t have it any other way.
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