PAH. PAH. PAH. PAH.’

The rhythm didn’t slow.

It hadn’t slowed in the last twenty minutes and it wasn’t planning to.

Tianlong’s hips drove forward with the relentless cadence of a man who has decided that ’careful’ is a word for people with less cultivation sense, his cock hammering into Akane’s drenched pregnant pussy from behind with the full, unmoderated force of someone who has been patient all evening and is done being patient.

’PHAACKK!’

"HIEEENGHHH~~!!"

Her head dropped between her arms. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Both hands white-knuckled on the chair armrests, the wood creaking under the grip, her whole upper body rocking forward with every thrust and snapping back when his grip on her hips pulled her onto him again.

Her belly — round, heavy, the full late-pregnancy weight of it — swung forward on every thrust and returned on every pull, the motion obscene and visible and completely unstoppable, the child inside shifting with the rhythm of a mother being thoroughly used.

"DARLING — TOO DEEP — HAAANNNGGHHH♡—"

Her golden eyes had rolled back.

Fully.

The irises gone, showing white, her tongue between her lips in the slack, mindless expression of a woman whose body has long since stopped consulting her dignity about what it was doing.

Drool at the corner of her mouth.

Tears on her cheeks.

The nine tails — all of them, wrapped around him, the fur pressing against his chest and shoulders and arms with the possessive intensity of things that had decided he was not going anywhere — tightening on every stroke.

’PAH! PAH! PHAACKK!’

"HUSBAND — WAIT — AHHNNNGH♡ — THE BABY—"

"Cultivation sense," he said.

’PAAH!’

"KYAAANGHH~~!!"

His answer to everything.

His cock throbbing at full hardness, the qi-reinforced shaft driving against her cervix on every thrust, the entrance to her womb kissed repeatedly by the blunt head of him in a way that her inner walls translated immediately into the fluttering, milking clench of a body receiving exactly what it was built to receive.

He shifted.

One knee onto the chair beside her.

The angle changing — deeper, the geometry of the new position finding places the previous one hadn’t, her hips tilted by the shift into an alignment that drove him directly against the front wall of her pussy on every stroke.

His hand released her hip.

Found the clothes bunched at her waist.

Gripped.

Used them as exactly what they were — reins, leverage, the handle that let him pull her back onto him at precisely the moment he drove forward, the doubled force of the impact sending a ’CLAP’ through the garden that the stone walls caught and returned.

’PHAACKK! PHAACKK! PAH-PAH-PAH!’

"AAAHHNN~~!! HNGHHH♡ — IT’S JIGGLING — MY BELLY — SO HARD — HAAHHH!!"

Her breasts.

The pregnancy had been thorough with them — fuller than they’d ever been, the nipples darkened and stiff, the veins visible under the skin in the lantern light — swinging beneath her with every thrust, the weight of them hitting together on the forward rock with a soft ’slap’ of flesh on flesh that added to the garden’s symphony.

Milk.

She hadn’t expected it this early.

But the stimulation and the pace and the full hammering of her body had overridden whatever timeline her cultivation had set for that — thin white sprays of it escaping her nipples with every ’PAAH’, splattering the cushion beneath her, running in thin lines down the curve of her swinging belly.

She felt it happen.

Felt the warmth of it leaving her and had no available capacity to be embarrassed about it because every nerve she had was occupied with the cock destroying her from behind.

"AAAHHNN~!! I’M — AGAIN — I’M GOING TO—"

Her inner walls clenched.

The clench of a pregnant woman who has no reserves left between her and the next orgasm — walls contracting in rhythmic, desperate pulses around his shaft, the fluttering grip of a body that has been trained to this particular shape and accepts nothing else.

’CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.’

Movement in the garden.

The catkin women — the ones who had been conducting the interrogation, the ones who had been audience, all of them carrying the evidence of their own evenings on their skin and between their thighs — had begun to move.

Not toward the throne.

’Toward the ground.’

One by one, dropping to hands and knees, the motion traveling through the group with the wordless coordination of women who have understood something simultaneously.

Their pussies — leaking, some with the warmth of his seed from earlier, the thick mixture running down their inner thighs and dropping onto the stone — left trails as they moved.

They lapped at it.

Heads down, tongues on stone, cleaning what had fallen with the focused attention of women who have decided this is their appropriate activity.

Their asses swayed above them as they worked.

Tails lifted.

Kira came forward.

Her blind eyes tracking by cultivation sense, by sound, by the scent of him that filled the entire garden — she crawled between his planted feet with the heavy grace of a woman built for this, her breasts swaying pendulously beneath her, nipples hard and leaking, dragging against the stone as she settled.

She found his balls with her mouth.

Warm. Thorough. The specific attention of a woman who has been waiting for her turn and intends to use it well.

"Mmmph~♡"

Her tongue working the base of his cock where it drove into Akane, tasting the mixture of everything — his wife’s arousal, the seed from earlier, the specific warmth of a pregnant body being thoroughly used.

"Master..." Low. Against his skin. "So strong..."

’PHAACKK! PAH PAH PAAH!’

"HIEKK~!! AAAHNN~!! COMING — I’M COMING AGAIN — HIIIEEEGHHH♡♡!!"

Akane’s pussy clamped.

The full force of it — the pregnant cultivator’s orgasm, hitting in waves that started at her core and radiated outward through every meridian she had — her walls gripping him in a rhythmic, unstoppable vice that milked each pulse of his shaft with the thoroughness of something that had been building for the last hour and arrived all at once.

The squirt came with it.

Hot. Immediate. Gushing around his cock and past Kira’s mouth and onto the stone and running in warm streams down Akane’s trembling thighs.

Her control over her bladder, which had been a cultivator’s well-managed resource until approximately this moment, filed its resignation with the rest of her body’s systems and the warmth mixed with everything else in an unstoppable flood.

The spray reached Chulteka.

Warm. Landing across her legs where she lay, still twitching, still processing her own accumulated evening.

She growled.

Deep in her throat.

Her body twitched around the bamboo.

She bit her lip hard enough that the pride of three centuries held the sound in, barely, while her eyes — half-lidded, burning — watched the throne area with the expression of a woman who is filing things away for a future she hasn’t committed to yet.

Akane’s whole body convulsed.

The nine tails lashing outward — all of them, simultaneously, the fur brushing the faces of catkin women nearby who leaned into it rather than away — her belly bouncing, her milk-heavy breasts swinging and spraying white in thin arcs that caught the lantern light.

"♡ — WOOOM — FALLING — SO GOOD — DEEPER —"

The internal monologue of a woman who has lost the distinction between thought and sensation.

"♡—"

Tianlong groaned.

The deep, private sound of a man whose restraint has encountered something that has finally made restraint irrelevant.

He drove in and ’stayed’ — fully seated, his hips flush against her, the head of his cock pressed against the entrance to her womb in the full, sustained contact of completion — and came.

Deep.

Long.

The heat of it flooding her in pulses that she felt individually, each one pressing against the place their child was growing with the warm authority of something that has been coming home.

Her walls received it in milking, fluttering waves.

Her tails went straight.

All nine.

The fur standing on end along every tail simultaneously, the ambient qi radiating from her body as her beast cultivation and the orgasm and the completion all arrived at once, making the garden’s lanterns flicker in unison.

Silence.

The heavy, full silence of completion.

He pulled out.

The sound of it — wet, the obscene pop of a body releasing what it had been holding — and Akane made the sound that followed, the small involuntary complaint of the absent.

Her pussy gaped slightly, open, flushed, his seed already beginning to press at the entrance in a slow, warm seep.

She was shaking.

Both hands still on the armrests.

Her belly swaying with the aftershocks of her breathing.

He turned her.

Gently.

The same hands that had been gripping her clothes as reins finding her shoulders and turning her with a different quality entirely — the care of a man handling something that matters.

She looked at him.

The ahegao was still there in the looseness of her face, the tear tracks, the drool at her lip, the eyes only now beginning to return from wherever they’d been.

He kissed her.

Not performance. Not dominance.

The French kiss of a man kissing his wife — tongues meeting, the exchange of breath, his hands finding her breasts and holding them, the weight of them warm and leaking in his palms.

She made a sound against his mouth.

Small. Grateful. The sound of a woman who has been thoroughly ruined and is exactly where she wanted to be.

He pulled back.

Looked at her face.

His thumbs moving along her jaw.

Then down — along her throat, her collarbone, the swell of her milk-heavy breasts, the nipples still leaking in thin trails down the underside — and lower, both hands spreading across her belly.

The full round weight of it.

The child within.

His child.

He stayed there for a moment.

The garden quiet around him.

"Your pussy is loose enough for easy birth now," he said.

The voice against her lips.

Warm. Deliberate.

"Congratulations."

A pause.

"My perfect breeding slut."

Akane’s eyes — half-rolled, still carrying the smeared gold of the orgasm’s afterglow — found his face.

Her tongue was between her teeth.

Her smile was the smile of a woman who has been called the worst thing in the best possible voice and has no remaining defenses against it.

"Thank you, Darling♡"

The breath still coming in pulls.

Her hands finding his chest.

"My pussy is now so wide... all for you... ready to birth your strong children anytime..."

A breath.

"Haaahh~♡"

The smile.

"I love you... more... please use me more..."