Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 51: The Serpent’s Long Night

[Silthara Palace—Emperor’s Chamber—Continuation]

Levin tried to crawl backward—a desperate, trembling attempt—but Zeramet’s hand closed around his calf, and just like that—he was pulled back across the silk sheets, dragged into the shadow of the emperor’s hunger.

"Consort..." Zeramet growled, voice deep as a temple drum. "If you keep moving, I will have no choice but to bind you."

Levin froze.

His breath hitched sharply, and heat curled down his spine. Fear and want tangled in his ribs like knotted serpents as he saw his husband’s two cocks.

"Z-Zer..." Levin whispered, voice cracking. "I—I can’t... handle... the two of your—"

He couldn’t finish because Zeramet seized him by the waist and hauled him closer—so close Levin could feel the raw heat radiating off his husband’s body. Fingers dug into his skin, not to hurt,but to anchor him in place.

"Do not speak those words," Zeramet husked, his forehead lowering to Levin’s neck, breath scorching his skin.

"You’re driving me crazy, but I do not want to force myself on you." A flick of a serpentine tongue, cold and wet, traced the delicate curve of his ear. "So, please... say yes, my moonflower."

Levin swallowed hard.

That voice—that ancient, shaking, pleading dominance—wrapped around him like incense smoke in a sacred hall.

Levin closed his eyes; tears slipped down his face as he thought, ’He is my husband... no matter how many genitals he carries... I must accept it... This is our bond...this is our fate...this is my fate.’

"Just..." Levin breathed, trembling, "...try to be gentle—"

The word was swallowed by motion. Zeramet moved with predatory swiftness, flipping Levin onto his stomach with a practiced ease that stole another gasp from him. A shudder ripped through Levin as he felt the twin, thick shafts of Zeramet’s cocks press against his vulnerable hole.

Levin’s eyes flew open, wide with a sudden, clawing fear. "Zer, please be gentle!"

Zeramet offered no reply, just continued his relentless friction, grinding the massive cocks against Levin’s twitching entrance. The sensation was overwhelming, a raw pressure that threatened to split him open before anything even entered.

"Please," Levin begged, a fresh wave of panic tightening his chest. "Take it slow. Put one inside—"

WHOOSH!!!

"Mmph..."

Zeramet’s large hand clamped over Levin’s mouth, silencing him instantly. The pressure was firm, unyielding, and cutting off the desperate pleas.

"Enough of your prattling, consort," Zeramet’s voice was a low growl beside his ear. "I’ve been more than gentle until now."

Tears pricked at Levin’s eyes, a hot sting that soon spilled over, tracing cold paths down his temples. He could feel the heavy weight of Zeramet behind him, the immense pressure of those twin cocks kneading his entrance.

A small, muffled sob escaped him, distorted by the hand pressed against his lips.

’MMph...’

’He... he’s going inside,’ Levin’s fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists, tearing at the silk sheets beneath him. He squeezed his eyes shut again, bracing for an unknown invasion.

A guttural grunt ripped from Zeramet. "Huff... huff!"

The first cock pressed in, a thick, insistent wedge. Levin felt his stomach distend, a fullness that shocked him, even though nothing had fully entered yet.

"You’re tight, consort," Zeramet murmured, his voice a low rasp.

Levin tried to twist his head to catch a glimpse, but then—a sudden, brutal THRUST!

Zeramet plunged one of his thick cocks deep inside.

"MMPH... hnggg...!!!"

A tingling vibration, sharp and intense, shot through Levin’s core. Then, with another powerful heave—TWOHP! Zeramet pushed deeper, driving that single shaft further into him.

"MMph..." A stifled moan escaped Levin, muffled by Zeramet’s hand. He felt the rhythmic thrusts, deeper and deeper, each one a jolt that reverberated through his entire frame.

’It’s just one, and I feel full inside.’

TWOPH! TWOPH!!

’Mmphh... haaah... mmph... I can’t... I can’t... breathe...’ Levin trembled violently, his body bowing under the relentless thrust of his cock.

Zeramet pulled back, only slightly, then slammed forward again—THRUST!

Every fiber of Levin’s being screamed, his body seizing with a violent tremor. Zeramet’s pace quickened, a merciless rhythm that drove him to the brink.

"MMpph... aaahh... haahh ..."

The world narrowed to sensations, a kaleidoscope of pain and pressure. Then, with a final, shuddering surge—SPLURT!

Warm, thick fluid pulsed deep inside him. Zeramet’s hand lifted from his mouth, and Levin gasped, a ragged, desperate sound.

’PWAHHH!’

He sagged onto the sheets, boneless, lying flat, every muscle screaming, but it wasn’t over. Zeramet’s arms wrapped around his stomach, pulling him up again.

"Get up," Zeramet commanded, his voice edged with a primal hunger. "It’s not over yet."

Levin’s body shook uncontrollably as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. The one cock remained firmly lodged inside him, stretching him wide, preparing him for the unimaginable as Zeramet’s voice echoed around Levin, "That should be enough room for one more."

"I... I don’t think... it will fit..." Levin choked out, his eyes still streaming with tears.

Zeramet made no reply, simply spread Levin’s entrance wider with his second, massive cock. Levin’s spine arched, a guttural sound torn from his throat.

"Hngh"

And then—THRUUUUUSSSSSRRRRRRRRRRTTT!

"AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

A blinding flash, a white-hot agony that consumed everything. Levin’s body convulsed, his own seed spurting from his cock onto the rumpled sheets. His abdomen bulged, stretched beyond comprehension. Tears poured from his eyes, hot and endless.

"It... it hurts," he sobbed, the words ripped from his raw throat. "It hurts so much... Zer... hic... it hurts... sniff..."

Levin’s cry was muffled as his body arched, spine trembling, overwhelmed by the sheer force of the emperor’s rut-driven hunger. Zeramet groaned against his shoulder—deep, primal, shuddering with possession.

His grip tightened on Levin’s hips; his mouth trailed fire down Levin’s nape. His serpent tongue flicked against the lotus mark—a mark that pulsed faintly beneath his touch.

"You endure well," Zeramet whispered, voice trembling with feral worship. "It will ache now...but it will ease, my moonflower..."

Levin lost all sense of time.

Of breath.

Of sound.

Of himself.

Zeramet’s rut had swallowed the chamber whole—heavy, scorching, relentless—and Levin was trapped beneath it...beneath him.

The emperor moved with a hunger that belonged to something ancient, a creature of scale and fire and unrestrained instinct. Every time he claimed Levin, the world blurred—heat, pressure, trembling, a fullness that stole his breath and replaced it with helpless, broken sounds.

"H-hhnn... haa Zer—Haaaa....aaahhhh...haa....."

Zeramet’s serpent tongue dragged over his nape, tasting the tears, the sweat, and the shivering skin.

"Tell me, consort..." his voice cracked like a storm-split mountain, "...do you like what your husband gives you?"

Levin couldn’t speak—his voice tangled in his throat—but his body trembled beneath the emperor’s weight. Tears streaked his cheeks.

’Do I like it...? Or am I simply drowning...? I cannot tell—all I know is... I feel so full I might break...’

"Hngh...ahhh...haaaa..."

He didn’t answer, not with words, but his body arched—helpless, instinctive—seeking what Zeramet’s cock thrust deeper and deeper into him.

And that was all the emperor needed.

Zeramet’s jaw opened—

BITE!

His fangs pressed into the soft place between Levin’s shoulder and throat, the place where the lotus mark glowed faintly, and Levin cried out—half pleasure, half pain, half surrender.

"I... l-like... it..." he whispered shakily, his voice breaking apart like cracked pottery.

Zeramet’s answering smirk was molten and merciless.

"There he is..." he murmured, "...my wicked little consort."

He devoured Levin—again and again—until the line between pain and pleasure blurred into something molten and overwhelming.

When he finally turned Levin onto his back, the emperor’s rut-driven hunger returned with renewed force. The sight of Levin trembling beneath him—marked, flushed, eyes unfocused—drew a deep, dangerous growl from his chest.

"You see...?" Zeramet whispered against Levin’s trembling lips. "I told you... it would hurt less once your body knew mine."

Levin couldn’t respond because his every breath was broken. Every blink was slow, and every inch of him felt claimed, filled, stretched, and overwhelmed.

And the night... The night did not end.

Nor did dawn stop it, nor the next sunset, nor the one after.

And just like that, three days passed.

Three days drenched in heat and rut and feverish hunger. Three days where Zeramet’s instincts refused to calm, refused to release him, and refused to let any distance form between them.

Because unlike a normal Alpha—whose rut burned out after a day—Zeramet was a Prime Alpha.

A creature of a rarer bloodline, a lineage born from ancient serpent kings and a rut that lasted days—sometimes weeks—once lit.

And Levin...soft, trembling, overwhelmed Levin...was the only one who could soothe it. Even when his body quivered from exhaustion.

Even when he slumped against the emperor’s chest in a half-conscious daze. Even then—Zeramet’s heat clung to him, devoured him, worshipped him, and claimed him. The chamber smelled only of him—only of them—only of rut and bond and heat.

And Zeramet’s eyes... His golden eyes glowed with a hunger nowhere near fading.

Levin’s eyes were tired from crying, and his throat was sore from moaning, but they didn’t move from the bed. The only time they moved was when Zeramet made him sip the water...from his mouth.

’This way...it won’t be surprising that...I will be carrying his child right after the second threshold.’

... And then—SPLURT!!!!

Zeramet released again. Levin’s lashes fluttered once—twice—and then his body finally gave out. His breath hitched, his fingers loosened, and his head dropped heavily onto Zeramet’s chest.

SLUMP.

The sound was small... but it shattered Zeramet’s world.

For a moment, the emperor remained still—frozen—like the beast inside him could not comprehend the sudden stillness of its mate. His pupils thinned to razor slits, golden irises glowing with feral hunger that slowly... painfully... dimmed.

Then—

"...Consort...?" He whispered it like a man calling the sun.

Levin didn’t answer.

His exhausted body lay limp against the Malik’s burning skin, trembling faintly—more from strain than from fear. His breath came in small, uneven puffs against Zeramet’s collarbone.

A sound escaped Zeramet’s throat.

Not a growl, not a hiss. Something far older. Something torn out of the marrow of a Prime Alpha.

He pulled Levin closer, gathering him into his arms as though trying to protect him from the very heat that poured off his own skin. His tail uncoiled from around Levin’s thigh and wrapped protectively around his waist instead—gentle, trembling, almost apologetic.

"My moonflower..." Zeramet whispered into Levin’s hair, voice low and hoarse, "you burn me alive, and yet you fall asleep in my arms like a child."

He touched Levin’s cheek.

Hot.Too hot.

His body exhausted—yet marked with the scent that could only belong to the Malik. Zeramet closed his eyes. He could still feel the rut tearing at his bones, the beast inside him pacing, snarling, demanding more—more warmth, more scent, more Levin.

But all it took was one glance at the limp form in his arms...and the beast bent. Knelt. Curled around its mate like a serpent around a fragile pearl.

Zeramet lowered his head. Pressed his lips to Levin’s swollen mouth—softly.

Once.Again.And again.

Kisses that trembled with guilt, devotion, and a darkness that tasted almost like worship.

"My moonflower..." he murmured against those fevered lips. "My heart... my sin..."

His voice cracked—low, raw, torn between rut and love. He kissed Levin’s eyelids. His temple. His cheek and then emperor’s breath shook.

He rested his forehead against Levin’s shoulder, inhaling the scent of a mate who had endured far too much for him.

"No," Zeramet whispered, voice trembling with restraint so violent it hurt. "No... enough. Your consort has borne more than the heavens should ever ask."

He wrapped Levin in his arms—protective, possessive, trembling—and forced himself still.

Hours blurred into dusk. Dusk bled into dawn as slowly—painfully—Zeramet’s senses returned.

When he finally came fully to himself...He saw the faint bruises on Levin’s hips. The tremor in his breath. The exhaustion carved into his body.

And the Malik’s heart split at the center.

He touched Levin’s cheek—reverent, gentle—as though holding a sacred object.

"...forgive me, consort," he whispered, voice low as a dying ember. "You have carried too much of me."

With that soft confession, Zeramet closed his eyes, curled his body around Levin like a shield, and held him until the fever of rut faded from his blood.

And so the days passed—with the Malik reigning in a beast older than kings...and a consort resting in the arms of the serpent who loved him too fiercely for the gods to ignore.