Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 242: The Greatest Blessing

[The Healer’s Hut—Continuation—Day]

The world beyond the healer’s hut felt impossibly distant, but none of them mattered because Zeramet’s golden gaze remained fixed on Levin. The room was drenched in Zeramet’s black lotus pheromones and was wrapped around Levin like a snake.

Levin couldn’t breathe and didn’t want to breathe, not when Zeramet wouldn’t stop kissing him. Not when every brush of lips felt like a promise burned into skin.

"Your lips..." Zeramet murmured, his voice deep as distant thunder rolling across the deserts of old empires. He traced his thumb along Levin’s mouth, his golden gaze darkening. "By the heavens, Moonflower... they are sweeter than date wine served in the courts of kings."

Levin immediately flushed, his lashes lowered, and seeing him all shy, Zeramet’s gaze only grew more dangerous, more fascinated, and more devoted.

"I cannot stop discovering that sweetness more myself, my moonflower."

Before Levin could answer and before he could even gather a proper thought, Zeramet was already kissing him again, slowly and thoroughly.

As though he intended to memorize every breath and every trembling sigh.

Zeramet kissed Levin harder and deeper. His tongue swept past Levin’s lips like he owned the right, like the sweetness there belonged to him. Levin whimpered into it, fists curling against Zeramet’s chest, and then—heat.

Zeramet’s black lotus pheromones are dark, intoxicating, and endless as they wrap like lightning, like a serpent trapping him under his pheromones. Levin’s body shivered—reacted—before he could stop it.

His pheromones wrapped around him, dragged through his lungs, and curled in his spine. It made his head swim, made his skin tingle, and made his thighs clench without permission.

"Zer... go...slow—ah—Hngh..."

Zeramet’s voice was a growl against his mouth. "Can’t help it, consort. I am hungry for you."

Their kiss turned messy, wet, gasping, and breathless; tongues clashed and teeth grazed. Levin moaned, high and desperate, as Zeramet’s hand slipped beneath his shirt to explore bare, sensitive skin.

And then, Zeramet’s lips trailed lower, down his chin to his jaw, and to his neck. He licked first and then sucked—hard.

"Nngh—haaa....ugh....!"

"It’s so addicting," he murmured, hot breath dragging over Levin’s pulse. "Every sound you make, every shiver...I want to taste it all."

He licked again right behind Levin’s ear, his tongue dragging slowly along the sensitive skin, followed by the faintest scrape of teeth. Levin gasped, hips twitching, breath catching in a tremble that rattled through his bones.

His fingers dove into Zeramet’s long silver hair, tugging weakly—desperately—but instead of stopping, Zeramet groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating against Levin’s neck like thunder wrapped in silk.

"You’re driving me insane," Zeramet whispered, his voice cracked and raw. "I want to mark every inch of you... inside and out again and again."

He didn’t wait; he couldn’t. His hands moved on their own—urgent, shaking with hunger. Fingers found the buttons of Levin’s shirt and ripped through them like they were paper, like the fabric had dared to keep him from what he craved.

Levin yelped softly as his shirt was flung aside—tossed like sin itself into the forgotten corners of the room, and then Zeramet stared.

His breath caught completely.

Levin now lay completely naked beneath him, cheeks flushed, hair wild, and lips kiss-swollen. His chest rose and fell too quickly, and his pale skin glowed gold under the sunlight, making him appear less like a mortal and more like a celestial figure carved from dawn itself.

For a long moment, Zeramet simply stared, then his gaze lowered toward Levin’s abdomen. His hand moved slowly, almost reverently, resting against the gentle swell that still remained.

A faint frown appeared on his handsome face. "Why is it still swollen?"

Levin blinked before glancing downward himself. "It takes time. The body does not return to normal immediately after delivery."

Silence.

Zeramet didn’t answer; his golden eyes remained fixed on Levin’s stomach, thoughtful and unmoving. Levin’s heart suddenly tightened as the silence stretched longer and longer. Until finally he looked away.

"Do you find it ugly?" The question escaped before he could stop it.

Immediately Zeramet’s expression changed. "Ugly?"

The word sounded foreign on his tongue, as though he could not comprehend it, and then slowly...very slowly...his hand rose to cup Levin’s cheek, warm fingers brushing against soft skin.

"My Moonflower...the deserts remember where rivers once flowed; the earth remembers where life was planted, and a king remembers every blessing granted to his house."

Levin blinked as Zeramet’s golden eyes held his completely. His hand returned to Levin’s abdomen, not with hesitation, not with discomfort but with unmistakable pride.

"There is nothing ugly here; this place carried my children." His voice lowered, filled with wonder and with devotion. "It sheltered their first breaths before they ever entered this world."

Then he bent forward slowly, pressing a gentle kiss against Levin’s stomach. A kiss filled with no desire but gratitude, reverence, and love. When he looked up again, his eyes shone softly beneath the sunlight.

"As long as I live...I will look upon this and remember the greatest gift ever given to me."

Levin’s breath caught, and then Zeramet smiled warmly and beautifully. The smile of a husband rather than a king.

"It is beautiful, my Moonflower." His thumb brushed softly against Levin’s skin. "Because it tells the story of our family."

And to Zeramet...there was no treasure in any kingdom more precious than that.

Levin turned his face away, too hot, too overwhelmed. His cheeks burned, and his chest fluttered. He couldn’t meet Zeramet’s gaze—couldn’t handle the way he looked at him like he was something sacred.

Zeramet leaned down, pressing a kiss just below his navel, slow and worshipful then another one higher and another.

His lips moved upward, slow and deliberate, like each kiss carved a vow into Levin’s skin. But just as he reached the curve of his chest just before his mouth could close over one flushed, sensitive pink nipple, Zeramet paused and looked up at him.

Levin’s breath hitched.

He hovered there, lips brushing skin as he whispered, "Can I have you again, all of you, my moonflower? Every breath. Every sound. Every inch of this divine, maddening body?"

Levin’s breath hitched, beautifully wrecked, but he still wouldn’t look at him. Still too shy, too ruined.

Zeramet’s one hand cupped Levin’s jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of his lips, firm but tender. Commanding.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Levin did, with shining eyes and bite-bruised lips, his entire body thrumming. Zeramet tilted his face up, just slightly, just enough, and murmured with a smirk that burned, "Say it quickly, my heart. I have no patience left to be gentle."

"...I’m already yours and have been marked; what’s the point of asking again and again?"

Zeramet smirked because that was exactly what he wanted to hear when he said, "Consent is required every time I touch my consort."

And in the very next heartbeat he moved like a serpent undone, and he didn’t wait anymore. He dipped his head and latched onto Levin’s nipple, warm lips closing around the soft, flushed peak, tongue circling once before sucking hard.

Levin gasped loudly,his spine arching off the bed. "A-Ah—Ze-zer—!"

It was too much, too sharp, and too good after all these months of separation.

The sound he made was high and breathless, half-moan, half-whimper, his fingers tangling in Zeramet’s hair as his thighs tried and failed to stay still.

Zeramet moaned into his chest, deep and vibrating, making Levin shiver from the inside out, and as Zeramet suckled, lips glossy, tongue relentless, his hand moved lower, trailing down the curve of Levin’s waist, over the swell of his belly, until his fingers hovered just above his member.

He paused there for the briefest second, hand splayed protectively, then he slipped lower. Levin’s thighs were still pressed together, trembling with pleasure.

Zeramet smirked against his chest, then slowly, deliberately slid his thigh between Levin’s, his mouth still hot and open around the now reddened peak of his nipple; he growled low and coaxingly.

"Spread your legs," he whispered, his voice a wicked purr against skin. "Let me see everything, my moonflower."

Levin’s breath caught, his entire face flushed, a deep, shame-colored pink blooming from cheek to ear. He hesitated, lips parted, panting, but his hips twitched against Zeramet’s thigh.

Slowly and shyly he opened it for him. Legs trembling as they parted, wide, willing, and vulnerable.

Zeramet pulled back just enough to look down, and gods, the sound he made—a groan torn from the gut—was practically feral.

He stared at Levin’s cock, warm and trembling. Dark at the tip and already leaking, twitching with need, nestled between flushed thighs that quivered from restraint.

Levin whimpered high, airy, and embarrassedly.

"Don’t—don’t stare like that—" he choked, his voice tight with arousal.

Zeramet looked up at him, eyes blown wide with hunger, and his voice dropped to a growl.

"You’re perfect. Do you even know what you look like right now? Spread out for me... dripping... and already making those sounds; you sure know how to drive me crazy, my moonflower."

He leaned in again, pressing a kiss just above Levin’s navel, then trailing lower. Lower. Every inch downward left a slick heat behind—his tongue, his breath, his intent.

Levin’s moans turned softer now, wet, almost hiccuping.

"A-Ah—hnng—!"

Meanwhile, Zeramet was far too busy devouring his love, tongue gliding down the soft plane of Levin’s hips, dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses lower and lower. He worshipped him in silence, letting each breathless whimper guide his mouth like prayer.

Then, with a fluid motion, Zeramet sat up; he reached for Levin’s right leg, lifted it, spread it gently, and pressed a kiss to the inside of his trembling thigh. The skin was fever-warm, flushed, and impossibly soft.

Levin’s eyes were dazed, his mouth parted, and he was completely undone, and Zeramet didn’t stop. He nipped lightly at the sensitive flesh, then licked slowly and deliberately, leaving a trail of slick heat near the base of Levin’s cock. His voice was a growl and a vow all at once as he muttered against skin:

"I’m going to loosen you up, consort..."

Levin’s back arched instinctively, toes curling. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust and affection, staring down at the serpent between his thighs, and he nodded.

Zeramet smirked, and for a heartbeat, the hunger in his gaze only grew heavier, and then...

THRUST!!!

The two fingers slid in slowly and carefully, and Levin groaned with helplessness and rawness. His back arched off the sheets, chest heaving.

"Hnghhh—haaa—"

Levin bit his lip, his moans breaking into little gasps as Zeramet moved, his fingers stretching, stroking, coaxing more of those breathless sounds. There was no rush, only reverence and only devotion disguised as desire.

The room was thick with it, with pheromones, with soft, broken moans, and with the quiet promise of something more and something deeper.

And then, without a word, Zeramet added two more fingers, and Levin shattered.

"HNNNGHH—AAAHHH—!!"

He cried out, his voice cracking like lightning, his spine arched, his head was thrown back, and his thighs trembled uncontrollably.

Then—

Splurt.

Warm Release painted his own belly; his chest heaved in ragged breaths as he lay there completely undone, trembling, flushed, and spent.

Zeramet froze for a second, his gaze dropping to the mess across Levin’s stomach. Then he looked up and smirked.

"Well, well, You came just from my fingers, my moonflower..."

Levin whimpered in response, barely able to lift his head, his skin burning with overstimulation, his lashes heavy with exhaustion as Zeramet leaned down, licking a stripe up Levin’s belly, tasting him, savoring him.

"You’re so lewd when you moan like that..." he whispered against Levin’s skin, his voice amused, dark, and reverent.