novelraw Chapter 442 - Akane’s Pregnancy and Compressed Gestation
Chapter 442 - Akane’s Pregnancy and Compressed Gestation
Tianlong’s rhythm had changed.
Not faster. Deeper. Each push driving to absolute depth, holding there for a full beat before withdrawing—like he was making a point rather than building toward something. Making her feel the full measure of it each time, making her throat ’work’ around him, making that visible bulge press outward against her neck and hold before pulling back.
Sabrina’s eyes had stopped making any attempt to stay level.
They drifted. Rolled. Came back halfway, then drifted again. Gold irises showing sliver beneath half-closed lids, her face gone slack in a way her face never went—all that pride and attitude requiring muscle, and the muscles had been repurposed.
Her spine, that straight spine she’d walked in with, had curved.
She was leaning into it now.
Tianlong’s other hand moved.
His fingers found her tiger ear—the right one, still stubbornly trying to hold its alert position against all available evidence that alertness was no longer the appropriate response—and ’pinched’.
"MMGKK—!"
The sound that came out of her was nothing like anything she’d planned to produce. Too high. Too broken. Her whole body lurched forward, the ear sending a sharp signal directly to whatever system governed the line between pain and the other thing.
He held the pinch.
And then his free hand—the one that wasn’t in her hair, wasn’t pinching her ear—moved to her face.
His thumb and forefinger closed over her nose.
Pressed.
Sealed.
Sabrina’s eyes came fully open.
Wide. ’Very’ wide.
With ten inches of cock buried in her throat and her nose pinched shut, the only remaining exit was closed. Her body understood this before her mind did. Her hands flew from his thighs—reaching up, grabbing his wrist—not with the pushing force of earlier but with the scrambling instinct of the suddenly airless.
Her face began to change color.
The normal golden-bronze of her skin deepened. Darkened. Rose toward crimson at her cheeks, at her temples, spreading inward.
The heat inside her mouth—already high from the friction, from the extended use—went higher. Hotter. The wet seal of her lips around his shaft became molten.
Her throat convulsed.
GLUCK.
Involuntary. Repeated. Her neck trying to swallow, trying to breathe, trying to do something with an airway that had been comprehensively occupied.
GLUCK—GLUCK—GLUCK—
Her eyes rolled back completely.
White.
The whites of her eyes showing below half-closed lids, tears streaming freely now, her face fully crimson, her hands no longer pulling at his wrist but simply ’holding’ it—not with force, just... contact. The frantic grip of someone who needed to hold onto something.
Her entire body trembled.
Tianlong looked at her face.
The crimson flush. The rolled eyes. The tear-soaked cheeks. The tight-pinched nose and the heat that had turned her lips dark around his shaft.
He released.
Into her throat—directly—
SPLURT.
SPLURT. SPLURT. SPLURT.
Thick and immediate and ’substantial’—the first rope hitting the back of her throat and carrying straight down, no path for it to go except deeper, her body swallowing it reflexively before she’d even registered what was happening.
SPLURT. SPLURT.
Her face went from crimson to something beyond crimson. Her hands on his wrist went rigid—everything went rigid—her tail snapping straight out behind her, her spine arching, her tiger ears pressing so flat they nearly disappeared into her hair.
Seed found every available exit.
It backed up against the seal of her lips and spilled through the corners, running down her chin, dripping onto his thigh. It found its way backward, pressed by volume and nowhere to go, and emerged in thin streams from her nostrils—twin lines of white against her flushed face, obscene and unmistakable.
"MGKK—GKKHH—" The sounds she made weren’t language. They were just sounds.
He released her nose.
Withdrew.
SCHLORP.
The chain of fluid that connected his cock to her lips stretched—three inches, four—and broke. A final thick rope landed across her cheek and jaw.
Sabrina’s head dropped forward.
Her whole body followed.
She swayed—knees on the floor, hands suddenly having to catch herself against the stone because the muscles she’d been using to kneel were no longer performing that function—and pitched sideways.
THUMP.
She hit the floor of the grand hall on her side, one arm unable to fully extend in time. Lay there. Chest heaving. Her face still flushed, cum still running from multiple locations, her tiger tail limp against the stone.
She was breathing.
After a moment, she breathed harder.
After another moment she made a sound that started as something else and landed as a laugh—short, incredulous, aimed at nobody.
"What the—" Her voice was ’wrecked’. Raw. Barely recognizable as hers. "What the ’hell’—"
Nobody in the crescent moved.
Every single woman was frozen in whatever position she’d landed in over the last several minutes—Akane with her hand pressed against her thigh, Yuna with both palms flat on her knees and wet fabric between her legs, Yu Xiang with her crossed ankles still applying pressure, Sylvea with her clasped hands still somewhere they shouldn’t be.
All of them watching his cock.
Standing. Still hard. Gleaming. Slowly, with absolutely no urgency, beginning to rest.
The hall was silent except for Sabrina’s ragged breathing and the sound of everyone else’s.
Tianlong settled back in his throne.
Let it be quiet for a moment.
Then looked at Yuna.
"Go bring your mother," he said. "And Thessa. They should be here."
The silence broke.
Yuna blinked.
"I—" Her silver eyes had been processing the last five minutes and hadn’t caught up yet. "Sorry, what?"
"Your mother," he said. "And Thessa. Tell them to come to the hall."
Yuna looked at him. Her mouth opened. Then closed. Her ears flicked once, twice. "My... ’mother’?"
He met her gaze and said nothing.
Something in his expression—or the lack of expression—registered. Her eyes moved from him to the other women. Akane had shifted her gaze away with the precise timing of someone who’d been expecting this question. Yu Xiang found the wall’s formation script suddenly fascinating. Sylvea studied her clasped hands.
Yuna looked at all of them.
Her ears flattened.
"’Everyone knew.’"
A silence of a very specific texture.
"Everyone—" She pressed her fingers to her forehead. The flush that crept up her neck was not from the same source as everyone else’s. "You all ’knew’ and nobody—" She stopped herself. Exhaled hard through her nose. "’Okay.’" The word was compressed, carrying about four sentences of reaction packed into it. "I’ll go get her. ’Fine.’" She stood from the throne, her hands balling once at her sides before releasing. "Is there anything else, or should I just—"
"Make sure she’s comfortable," Tianlong said. "She’s pregnant."
Yuna stopped walking.
Stood there with her back to him.
"’...What.’"
Silence.
"’What have you done.’" Not a question. The flat declaration of someone whose brain had decided that asking questions was no longer the appropriate response to new information.
She turned around, looked at him, rubbed her forehead with two fingers, said "I will ’deal with this later’," and walked out of the hall.
The doors closed behind her.
Tianlong’s gaze moved.
Akane sat in her throne, her nine tails still—had been still for the last half-minute, which was unusual.
Her golden fox eyes were on her own hands, folded in her lap, and her crimson robe was belted loosely at the waist.
"Remove," he said.