Serpent Emperor's Bride

Chapter 174: Where Moonlight Bows to the Emperor

[Silthara Palace — The Emperor’s Chamber — Continuation]

The chamber had grown warmer beneath moonlight and the dark lotus scent. Heavy curtains swayed like desert veils in the night wind, and the faint scent of amber and myrrh clung to the air, thick as longing.

Zeramet bent over Levin like a sovereign claiming not a throne but something far more fragile, far more dangerous.

His lips traced a slow, reverent path across Levin’s chest, as though memorizing sacred scripture written in skin. Each touch lingered, unhurried, deliberate... as if time itself had bowed before the emperor’s desire.

Levin trembled beneath him.

SUCK!!!

SMOOCH!!

SMOOCH!!!

Soft, wet sounds filled the chamber as Zeramet’s lips trailed over Levin’s chest, his mouth closing around one nipple while his fingers teased the other bud of his nipple.

Levin’s body arched slightly, a breathless moan slipping past his lips.

"Haa... slow... please..."

Zeramet lifted his gaze, eyes dark with amusement as his tongue flicked teasingly and asked, "Your nipples have grown far too sensitive, consort."

Levin did not reply; he only huffed, his fingers tightening in the sheets—

BITTTEEEE!!!

"Agh—Zer—!"

Zeramet smirked against his skin, voice low and commanding. "You should answer your husband when he questions you, my moonflower."

Levin’s cheeks flushed deeply, his gaze turning away. "I... I might lactate..."

Zeramet paused for a brief moment, blinking—then leaned down again, testing, his lips returning with curiosity and mumbling. "...But there’s nothing here, no milk."

"It’s only the fourth month..." Levin whispered, still flushed. "It won’t happen so soon..."

Zeramet hummed in acknowledgment, but his attention shifted. His eyes darkened as he glanced downward.

"I see...but then tell me," he said slowly, voice sharpening with possessiveness, "why did my moonflower lose control without permission?"

Levin followed his gaze and froze, his essence staining the sheets beneath him.

Zeramet’s smirk deepened as his fingers brushed along Levin’s cock, slow and deliberate. "Does carrying my child make you this sensitive... or this eager?"

"Zer—" Levin cut him off quickly, eyes wide, voice soft but urgent. "...the child... I heard they can hear... so please..."

For a moment, Zeramet stilled, then a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips as he murmured, his voice lowering. "Well... then I suppose I have no choice but to take very

good care of my consort."

His hand moved with intent, guiding and positioning his own cock, and his body pressed closer as he prepared to claim him again.

"I’ve already loosened you enough... it won’t hurt."

Levin’s entire body flushed—his face, his chest, and his shoulders all burning under the intensity of Zeramet’s gaze as he said, "I am going in..."

Then—THHHHRRRUUUSSSTTT!!—a sudden thrust.

Levin gasped sharply, his body tensing as sensation overwhelmed him—pain and pleasure colliding in a single breath.

"ANGHHHH—!"

A broken cry tore from him as his body arched violently, legs shaking, fingers clawing at Zeramat’s back, nails scraping skin. Zeramat caught him firmly, hands gripping his hips, holding him steady as the force of the moment rippled through him again.

THHHRRRUUUSSTTT!!!

"Hngh... aaghh..."

Levin’s voice unraveled into the air, no longer restrained—each sound spilling freely, helplessly.

The rhythm between them deepened, a heated cadence that echoed through the chamber. Each movement stretched him further, drawing sharp, electric sensations through his body, leaving him trembling, breath breaking into uneven gasps.

"Haa... hnngh... Zer..."

His world narrowed—shrinking to nothing but the space where they met, where heat and closeness blurred into something consuming. Zeramet leaned closer, his breath warm against Levin’s throat before his lips followed, tasting the salt of his skin.

A soft whimper escaped Levin as his thighs trembled, tightening instinctively.

"Hngh... Zer... deeper..."

His voice fractured, barely holding together as it dissolved into another breathless sound.

Zeramet slowed—just enough to lift his gaze and capture Levin’s expression. Sweat glistened faintly over both their bodies, the air thick with heat and tension.

"You want more?" Zeramet murmured, his voice low, smooth like molten bronze—gentle, yet edged with command.

Levin’s lips parted, his eyes unfocused as he nodded weakly. "Y-yes..."

A faint smirk curved Zeramet’s lips. "Then call my name... properly, Consort."

A shiver ran through Levin, his body tightening involuntarily. The pace shifted—stronger now, deeper, each motion drawing a sharp reaction from him, his body yielding despite the overwhelming intensity.

Zeramet did not relent. In one fluid movement, he guided Levin forward, pressing him gently down.

"On your hands and knees," he said, his voice softer—but no less firm. "Let us remember... the first night."

His hand lingered briefly, grounding him.

"The night I claimed you... and marked you as mine."

Levin barely had time to steady himself before the intensity returned—strong, consuming, leaving his breath catching sharply in his throat.

The chamber filled with heat, with sound, with the unspoken tension between them.

Zeramet leaned close, his lips brushing the back of Levin’s neck. The black lotus mark shimmered faintly against his skin, as if responding, as if alive beneath his touch.

"There..." Zeramet murmured near his ear, his voice dark with quiet satisfaction. "You hold me so well, my moonflower."

"Ahh... nghh... the child..." Levin’s voice softened, almost lost, as he leaned back into him, overwhelmed by sensation and closeness alike.

Zeramet’s hand steadied him, firm and reassuring.

"Do not worry," he said, quieter now, almost soothing. "I am holding you... both of you... safe."

But even as his words softened, something deeper flickered in his gaze—something intense, untamed. His golden eyes darkened, sharpening with hunger as his breath warmed Levin’s skin.

Then—

A sudden, searing pressure at his neck.

"Ah—!"

Levin cried out, his body jolting as Zeramet’s fangs pierced his skin.

The sensation was sharp—yet laced with something deeper, something that made his body weaken rather than resist.

"Why... why did you...?" Levin’s voice faltered, breath unsteady.

Zeramet exhaled slowly against his skin, his hold tightening just slightly.

"...Because," he murmured, voice low and absolute, "I like seeing you marked by me."

Levin’s breath shuddered as he gave in completely, his strength fading into the sheets beneath him.

The rhythm faded only when exhaustion finally claimed him—his body trembling and spent, his voice dissolving into silence. Levin collapsed against the silken sheets, limbs heavy, breath unsteady, unable to move... unable even to lift his gaze.

Only warmth remained.

Warmth—and him.

Levin’s mind was a whirl of sensation and shock. The feeling of Zeramet’s mouth on him, his body still trembled with the aftershocks of pleasure held ruthlessly. He was painfully, exquisitely aware of every point of contact: the hard line of Zeramet’s body against his back, the possessive span of those large hands, and the cool night air raising goosebumps on his exposed skin.

"Zer," Levin breathed, the name a plea and a question. His voice was thin, frayed.

"Hush," Zeramet murmured into the curve of his shoulder. His lips brushed the skin there, not a kiss but a claiming touch. "We are done yet, my moonflower."

A shiver moved through Levin, slow and deep, settling in his bones. The reminder of the life within him—their child—rose quietly between them, weaving something new into the space they shared.

Not just desire.

Something sacred and something binding.

Zeramet’s hand lifted, fingers tracing along Levin’s jaw with deliberate care before tilting his head aside—offering his throat to the moonlight... and to him.

Levin yielded without resistance, his eyes fluttered closed, his body softening completely, and trust lay bare in the simplest of gestures.

Zeramet’s breath deepened, a quiet sound of approval rumbling low in his chest.

"My Malika..." he murmured, the ancient title flowing like dark silk between them. "Bathed in moonlight... as if it always were meant to belong to you."

His lips followed the path his fingers had taken, a slow, open-mouthed trail along the tendon of Levin’s neck. It was not the sharp bite from before, but something slower, more savoring. A tasting.

Levin’s breath hitched.

"Hngh....haa..."

"Please," Levin whispered, the word torn from him. It was all he could manage.

"Please what, my moonflower?" Zeramet’s lips were at his ear again, his voice a low, vibrating rumble. "Use your words. Tell your Malik what you need."

Levin shuddered. The command, wrapped in that endearment, undid him. "Touch me," he begged, his voice raw. "Please, Zer. I can’t..."

"You can," Zeramet corrected, his hand finally closing around him in a firm, sure grip. Levin cried out, his hips jerking forward into that delicious friction. "You will. You will bear it all for me."

He began to stroke, a slow, torturous rhythm that was somehow more intense than anything before. His other arm was a steel band across Levin’s chest, holding him upright, holding him close. Levin was utterly encased, surrounded by Zeramet’s strength and his scent and his devastating touch.

The world narrowed to the press of his hand, the cold sheet at his back, and the consuming heat of Zeramet behind him.

Levin was trembling.

So close.

Dangerously close.

The tension inside him felt like a live current—sharp, rising, ready to break. His breaths came in ragged bursts, his fingers tightening instinctively around Zeramet’s forearms as if anchoring himself to something solid before he lost himself completely.

Then—MOVE!!!!---A sudden shift.

Zeramet’s arm wrapped firmly around his waist, drawing him back, lifting him with effortless strength until Levin found himself seated on his lap—held, supported, claimed.

"Now..." Zeramet’s voice brushed against his ear, low and steady, "It’s time you move, consort."

Levin blinked, dazed, his body still catching up to the change. His hand reached back instinctively, gripping Zeramet’s shoulder for balance, his breath uneven. For a moment, he hesitated, not in refusal—but in the overwhelming weight of sensation, of closeness, of being completely surrounded.

Zeramet did not rush him, his hands settled at Levin’s waist—firm, grounding, guiding without forcing.

Levin swallowed, his lashes lowering as a faint flush spread across his skin. His body responded before his thoughts could catch up—slow at first, uncertain.

Then—he held his cock and tried to put it in his butt hole and... a movement, a breath and then THRRRRRUUUSSTTTT!!!

"Hngh....aagghh...haaaa...haaa...."

The rhythm began to build—not rushed, not wild—but deliberate, growing, shaped by the space between them. Levin exhaled shakily, his grip tightening as sensation rose again, deeper this time, pulling a quiet sound from his throat.

Zeramet’s hold adjusted, steadying him, his presence unyielding behind him—like a pillar he could neither escape nor truly wished to.

"That’s it..." Zeramet murmured, voice dark with quiet approval. "Just like that..."

Levin’s movements grew more certain, though his breaths remained unsteady, his body reacting to every shift, every subtle change in pressure and closeness.

The night air drifted around them, cool against overheated skin, while inside that small space—between breath and touch—the world dissolved once more.

Zeramet’s hands reached to Levin’s cock as Levin butt moved deeper, deeper and more deeper.

"Hngh....aahhh....haaaaaa.....ha.."

Levin moaned and Zeramet’s strokes became faster, tighter. His mouth found the spot where neck met shoulder again. The twin sensations—the relentless pleasure and the sharp edge of pain—pushed Levin to the brink.

"I’m... Zer, I’m going to..."

"Yes," Zeramet hissed, his own control fraying. His rhythm became punishing, perfect. "Let go. Show me."

And then...SPLURT!!!

The climax tore through Levin with a force that stole his vision and his breath. A strangled, sobbing cry was ripped from his throat as he spilled over Zeramet’s stomach and slumped on his chest. Waves of pleasure, radiated out from his core, leaving him boneless and shuddering.

Zeramet held him through it, his grip unrelenting, his own breathing harsh in Levin’s ear. He worked him through the last pulses. Then his hand resting, slick and warm, against Levin’s stomach.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing mingling. Levin sagged, completely spent, held up solely by Zeramet’s embrace. The emperor’s head was bowed, his forehead resting against Levin’s damp temple.

Slowly, Zeramet looked at him. Levin’s legs were useless, but Zeramet’s arms were there, shifting him effortlessly until they were face to face. Levin looked up, dazed, into eyes that glowed like molten gold in the moonlight. Zeramet’s expression was fierce, triumphant, and beneath it all, something terrifyingly soft.

He brought his soiled hand up between them. Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his fingers to his own lips and slowly, deliberately, licked them clean.

The act was so primal, so blatantly possessive, that a shiver ran through Levin. Zeramet’s smirk returned, edged with a dark satisfaction.

"The taste of you..." he murmured, voice low, almost thoughtful. "It never fades."

Levin shivered faintly, too spent to respond properly, his head falling against Zeramet’s shoulder.

"You..." he breathed weakly, a faint, exhausted protest slipping through, "...you really are a monster..."

Zeramet chuckled softly—low, satisfied.

"Mm." His arms tightened slightly around him, secure, possessive. "And now...can I have more of you?"

Levin huffed and his fingers barely curling into Zeramet’s chest as he murmured, almost unwillingly. "You really are a monster."

Zeramet’s smile deepened—slow, dangerous, and entirely certain as he asked, "So...that’s a Yes?"

Levin went quiet and he nodded making Zeramet smirk, and in the quiet that followed, beneath the watchful moon and the silent empire beyond those walls—The emperor held not just his consort...

But something far more binding and something that would not break again.