Pherenike - Chapter 90

“So, if you try to run, I won’t let you get away.”

“That’s terrifying.”

“Better behave before you’re trapped in your wife’s labyrinth, Deucalion.”

“I’m always thinking of you, Nike.”

Thoughts are indeed not enough. They are illusions, things that have never existed in the world, a foolish land where delusion and forgetfulness interchange their banners.

Yet, sometimes a single kiss makes all those seem real.

“Will you always forgive me?”

Sometimes, Pherenike asks him like an anxious child. Instead of answering, Deucalion kissed her delicately above her chest, feeling her bones beneath his teeth.

“….Yes, I forgive. Just as you forgive me.”

He bit gently, and her skin flushed briefly. Even this thin and delicate skin covering her bones was something he couldn’t harm.

Her body reacted bluntly to something sharp that was not explicitly made to harm. Its defenses were slow and biting. But in the end, it accepted nothing and became whole by itself.

He gently nibbled her skin back to its soft hue and whispered,

“….Sometimes, I want to hurt you, Nike.”

“I know that too.”

Pherenike quietly replied and kissed his ear. They kissed each other, but like parallel lines that never met, they touched without ever truly connecting.

He couldn’t hurt her. He couldn’t leave any marks. Perhaps that was why he suffered so much when the princess was born.

On her body, where he could leave no marks, on his wife’s name, that he could not have, the traces left by Actor Nikandros shone brilliantly.

Deucalion shut his eyes to her like he would to a hated summer sun.

His arm encircled her waist, and snaked from behind like a serpent, delved into her crevice. His large hand roughly grabbed Pherenike’s g***n.

The fingertips, hardened by a lifetime of holding spears and swords, teased and parted his wife’s wet lower parts relentlessly. Pherenike shamelessly tightened around his hand.

Deucalion lifted the corner of his mouth in a slight smile and slowly pushed his fingers deeper into her. His fingers quickly became two, and his thick knuckles widened the embracing tightness inside her.

He remained standing in the spring, supporting her against nothing else. He slightly leaned back and placed her on his lower abdomen, though ultimately, he was holding her up with just one arm.

During such times, Pherenike would cling to him to prevent herself from falling, inevitably gripping his hand or g–itals. Deucalion knew her ability to endure such overwhelming penetration stemmed from countless encounters with her half-brother, Actor.

The nightmare of Actor lifting his wife, spreading her legs, pinning her between himself and a wall, and pressing down on her had become an old story for him too. Deucalion bit Pherenike’s neck as he lifted her onto a rock by the deep water.

As she sat on the rock, her toes pulled at his wet hem. It was then that she discovered the bruised wounds on his thigh.

“Deucalion!”

Her voice, usually sweet like a song floating over the spring, shattered, and anger stabbed at him. He laughed.

“What happened…?”

“It’s nothing. Just sparring.”

“Who dares do this to you in Paetusa?”

She was ready to storm into Paetusa to avenge the slightest offense against him as soon as she received the name.

Desire faded from Pherenike’s angry face. Deucalion, who didn’t care at all, pressed his lips to hers. Her gown was pulled up over her stomach.

“Just wait, Deucalion…”

She reached out hastily to heal him, but in that moment, Deucalion flipped her body on the rock and entered her from behind.

“Ah…!”

He pierced her deeply in one swift motion. The fierce splash that rose with his thrust also surged towards her.

Pherenike briefly stood on her feet in the water, then on tiptoe, barely managing to receive him. By the time he was fully inside, her feet were completely off the ground.

Pherenike barely managed to brace herself on the rock, but Deucalion pulled her back into his stomach. Her hands lost their grip on the rock.

She was left suspended in the water, her feet in the air, without anything to hold onto.

The Prince, like a centaur snatching a maiden as he crossed a river, held his queen in the water.

“Ah, wait, Cal…”

He did not respond. The force of his thrusts from behind, from below to above, was fierce—barbaric in strength. This force made Pherenike’s body jolt. The only thing keeping her from falling is his single arm.

Deucalion wrapped his left arm in front of her abdomen like a snake coiling its prey, his left hand firmly grasping her side. His right hand lazily teased her b******s.

His rough thumb gently brushed her p-rineum. Unlike the water droplets of the spring that quickly absorbed and disappeared into the skin, the slickness that smeared his fingertips made him more ferocious.

It was all she had spilled. With such a loving face, in heat for her husband.

i have decided to drop pherenike.
the lack of engagement is not making it sustainable sadly (╥﹏╥)
but i know the frustrating feeling of not knowing the ending of a book (as of the time of this writing, the book is still ongoing), so if you want spoilers of the story, feel free to drop me a message on the server!