Chapter 155: Hot Sex In Training Field (R-18)

Both Alaric and Lyra lay sprawled on the training ground, a good distance apart, chests heaving, lungs burning. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by the morning sun filtering through the dissipating battle haze. The once pristine training field looked like it had been hit by a small meteor shower – chunks of earth torn up, practice dummies scattered like broken toys.

“Whew,” Alaric finally managed to wheeze out, his voice still a bit ragged. “That… that was actually really fun, Mother.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, wincing slightly as his muscles protested.

Lyra groaned from her spot a few yards away, not even attempting to move yet. “Fun? Fun, you say?” she retorted, her voice laced with mock indignation, though a hint of amusement peeked through. “My bones are still rattling, son. You call nearly getting blown to smithereens ’fun’?” Her breasts, still nicely framed even by her torn top, rose and fell rapidly as she took deep, shuddering breaths.

Alaric grinned, despite the ache in his own muscles. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, brushing dirt and grass off his torn tunic. “Come on, Mother, don’t be such a drama queen,” he teased, though his smile softened a bit. “You have to admit, that was a pretty spectacular clash. And,” he added, a more serious note creeping into his voice as he finally managed to stand, albeit a little wobbly, “it does give me some reassurance. If you ever do have to face those demons, you won’t be a complete pushover.”

Lyra, still lying on the ground, stilled at his words. “Demons?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What demons are you talking about, Alaric? What’s going on?” She pushed herself up to a sitting position now, finally noticing the shift in his tone.

Alaric sighed, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. He could feel the lingering aches and pains from the spar, but nothing too serious. ’Time for the Beast Essence to work its magic,’ he thought, subtly activating the Azure Spirit Lion’s power.

As if on cue, a faint azure glow began to emanate from Alaric’s body, coalescing around him like a shimmering, ethereal aura. The torn edges of his tunic seemed to ripple in the unseen energy, and the minor cuts and bruises he had sustained in the spar visibly began to fade, closing up with unnatural speed.

Lyra, who had been watching him with growing confusion, gasped audibly as she witnessed this strange phenomenon. Her blue eyes widened in shock, fixated on the azure glow surrounding her son. “Alaric… what… what is that?” she stammered, pointing a trembling finger at the shimmering aura. “Is that… some kind of magic?” She had never seen anything like it before, not even in the most advanced magic texts of the Steele family library.

Alaric glanced down at his own body, the azure energy still swirling around him, then back at Lyra, a hint of amusement flickering in his ruby eyes. He wasn’t going to explain the Beast Essence to her now. Not yet. “Later, Mother,” he said, echoing his earlier words to Iridelle. “That’s a story for another time.” He deliberately shifted the focus back to the topic at hand.

He started walking towards her, his movements becoming smoother, more assured as the Beast Essence accelerated his healing. As he approached, Lyra finally seemed to register the full extent of their battle damage. Both of them were a mess. Their clothes were ripped and torn, hanging off them in tatters. Alaric’s tunic was slashed in several places, revealing glimpses of his muscular chest and torso. Lyra’s top was even worse, ripped down the front, gaping open to reveal the tantalizing curves of her breasts, barely contained by her now-shredded undergarments. Her leggings were torn at the knees and thighs, showing patches of her smooth, sweat-dampened skin.

’Damn,’ Alaric thought again, his gaze involuntarily lingering on the exposed curves of his mother’s body. ’Even when she’s practically in rags, she still looks… incredible.’ The torn clothing, somehow, only amplified the seductive effect, hinting at the voluptuousness beneath, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive a man wild.

He knelt beside Lyra, his gaze meeting hers, his expression turning serious once more. “Demons, Mother,” he repeated, his voice low and grave. “They attacked Verdant Dawn Academy. Out of nowhere. A whole legion of them.”

Lyra’s shock deepened, her blue eyes widening further. “Attacked the Academy? Demons? What are you talking about, son? Demons are just… myths! Stories that have been passed down from the ancient time.” She had heard tales of demons, of course, every child in Eloriath Kingdom had, but they were just that – terrifying bedtime stories, not something anyone actually believed in.

Alaric shook his head grimly. “Not myths, Mother. Real. And terrifyingly strong.” He elaborated, his voice laced with genuine concern. “Even the weakest of them… they’re at least Master level in strength. Mage or Martialist, doesn’t matter. And there were… thousands? No…Tens of thousanads. I don’t even know. Too many to count.”

Lyra’s breath hitched. “Master level?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. Master Mage, Master Martialist – those were ranks of considerable power, individuals capable of wielding significant magical or martial force. The idea of even one demon at that level was alarming, let alone a legion. “And… and the Academy? What happened to the Academy?”

Alaric sighed again, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders. “I don’t know for sure. I… I had to escape. It was chaos. But…” he paused, choosing his words carefully, “from what I saw, from what I felt… the demons were overwhelming the professors. Even Principal Bartolmew… he was fighting, but…” He trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

Lyra stared at him, her face paling, her usual vibrant energy replaced by a dawning horror. The Verdant Dawn Academy, the bastion of magical learning, the pride of Eloriath Kingdom, falling to… demons?

It was unthinkable. And the thought of Principal Bartolmew, one of the strongest Archmage in the Kingdom, possibly defeated… it was almost incomprehensible. “But… but the professors… the Principal… they are all at the ranks of Archmage! They are some of the strongest mages in the kingdom!” she protested, her voice laced with disbelief. “Surely, they can handle… anything?”

Alaric just shook his head, his expression grim. “Not this, Mother. Not these demons. They’re… different. Something else entirely.” He didn’t understand it himself, not really. He just knew the sheer, oppressive power he had felt from those demonic entities, the chilling, unnatural aura they exuded. It was unlike anything he had ever encountered before.

’If even I at my current strength felt like I had to run…’ The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He reached out, his hand gently cupping Lyra’s cheek, his thumb stroking her soft skin. “Don’t worry, Mother,” he murmured, his voice softening, his ruby eyes meeting hers, trying to offer some reassurance, even if he didn’t entirely feel it himself. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m here now. And… I’ll make you stronger. Strong enough to face anything, even demons.”

Before Lyra could even process his words, let alone voice the torrent of questions swirling in her mind, Alaric’s hand slid from her cheek, down her neck, and then lower, settling on the exposed curve of her breast, his fingers gently cupping the soft flesh.

Lyra gasped, her breath hitching in her throat, all thoughts of demons and academies momentarily forgotten as her body reacted instantly, instinctively to his touch. A soft moan escaped her lips, involuntary, purely sensual, completely overriding any words she might have intended to speak.

Alaric’s fingers tightened slightly on her breast, kneading gently, his thumb circling her nipple, teasing it through the shredded fabric of her top. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Don’t be scared, Mother,” he repeated, but this time, the words held a different meaning, a more intimate promise. “Just… relax. Let me take care of you.”

His other hand joined the first, now both cupping and fondling her breasts, his fingers exploring the soft curves, the sensitive nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. He leaned further in, his mouth now nuzzling at her neck, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin, his tongue tracing a hot, wet path upwards towards her earlobe.

Lyra’s head fell back, her eyes fluttering closed, her body going limp with a mixture of shock, pleasure, and a dizzying rush of arousal. “S-son…” she managed to gasp out, her voice trembling, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders, her nails digging lightly into his skin. The fear and worry about demons, about the Academy, about everything, seemed to recede, pushed back by the overwhelming tide of physical sensation that Alaric was so expertly, so deliberately, unleashing within her.

His hands continued their sensual exploration, moving from her breasts to her waist, tracing the curve of her hips, then back up again, teasing, caressing, igniting every nerve ending they touched. He leaned back slightly, his gaze locking with hers, his ruby eyes burning with a familiar intensity, a possessive hunger that always made her heart race and her body ache with longing.

“You’re hurt, Mother,” he murmured, his voice low and seductive, his gaze lingering on the exposed cleavage revealed by her torn top. “Let me heal you. In… my way.”

And with that, he lowered his head again, his lips closing over one of her aching, swollen nipples, sucking deeply, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from her lips.

Lyra squirmed beneath Alaric’s touch, her body arching involuntarily as his mouth latched onto her nipple. A wave of pure sensation washed over her, a delicious blend of pain and pleasure that chased away the lingering aches from their spar and replaced it with a different kind of ache, a more insistent, more demanding one.

“Mmm… Alaric… son…” she moaned, her voice thick with burgeoning arousal. Her hands, which had been gripping his shoulders for support, now tightened, her fingers digging into his muscles as if trying to pull him even closer, even deeper. Her legs shifted restlessly on the torn-up training ground, her hips subtly tilting upwards, instinctively seeking more contact, more friction.

Alaric chuckled softly against her breast, the sound vibrating through her body, adding another layer of sensual stimulation. He suckled harder, drawing deeply, his teeth gently scraping against her nipple, sending electric jolts of pleasure radiating outwards. His hands continued their exploration, one still cupping her breast, kneading and squeezing, while the other roamed lower, tracing the curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh.

“Relax, Mother,” he murmured again, his voice husky and seductive, breaking the suction for a moment to breathe against her heated skin. “Let the Beast Essence work its magic. You’ll be as good as new in no time.” He then returned to his ministrations, his mouth and hands working in perfect harmony, a symphony of sensual touch designed to drive her wild.

Lyra gasped again, her breath catching in her throat. “Beast… Beast Essence?” she managed to whisper, her mind still struggling to catch up with the whirlwind of sensations he was unleashing upon her. “Is… is that what that azure glow was?” She felt a strange warmth spreading through her body, a tingling energy that seemed to be soothing her aching muscles, easing away the lingering soreness from their intense spar. Discover stories at ReadNovelFull.com.Côm

Alaric simply hummed in response, not breaking his rhythm, not pausing his sensual assault. He knew she was curious, intrigued by the Beast Essence, but he also knew that right now, words were secondary. Sensation, touch, pleasure – these were the languages they were speaking in this moment, and they were far more eloquent than any explanation he could offer.

He continued to lavish attention on her breasts, his mouth and hands working in tandem, teasing, suckling, kneading, driving her closer and closer to the edge. His fingers slipped beneath the tattered remnants of her leggings, finding the soft skin of her inner thigh, stroking upwards, closer and closer to the source of her desire.

Lyra’s moans grew louder, more insistent, her body arching and bucking beneath him. She was squirming now, her hips rotating restlessly, her legs parting wider, offering herself to him completely. Her hands, no longer just gripping his shoulders, now roamed over his back, tracing his muscles, digging into his skin, urging him closer, deeper.

“Alaric… oh, Alaric…” she cried out, her voice ragged, her breath coming in short, gasping pants. “It’s… it’s working… I can feel it… the pain… it’s fading… but… oh, gods, son…” Her words dissolved into a series of incoherent moans as his fingers finally reached their destination, finding the damp heat between her legs.

He chuckled again, a low, satisfied sound that vibrated against her body. “See, Mother? Magic and pleasure. The best of both worlds, wouldn’t you agree?” He slipped a finger inside her, finding her already slick and swollen, her body responding instantly and eagerly to his touch.

Lyra cried out again, her body convulsing around his finger, her hips lifting off the ground, her head thrashing back and forth. “Dear son… oh, no, Alaric…” she corrected herself, her mind still a little hazy, still struggling to reconcile the roles of son and lover, master and mother. “It’s… too much… too good…”

“Never too much, Mother,” Alaric murmured, his voice thick with lust, his own body tightening with desire as he felt her wetness slickening his fingers. He added another finger, stretching her gently, teasing her sensitive flesh, while his mouth continued to work magic on her breasts.

He could feel the Beast Essence coursing through him, amplifying his senses, sharpening his desires, fueling his stamina. He could feel it flowing into Lyra as well, the azure energy seeping into her skin, mending her muscles, soothing her aches, and, he suspected, enhancing her own pleasure, making her even more responsive, even more sensitive to his touch.

Lyra’s moans escalated into full-blown cries of ecstasy as he continued to tease and pleasure her, his fingers working magic inside her, his mouth driving her nipples to aching peaks. She was completely lost in sensation now, her body vibrating with suppressed desire, her mind blank except for the overwhelming pleasure that Alaric was so skillfully, so relentlessly, inflicting upon her.

“My dear son… please… I can’t… I can’t take it anymore…” she begged, her voice ragged, her body trembling violently.

“Can’t take what anymore, Mother?” Alaric teased, his voice low and seductive, his fingers pausing their movements for just a moment, drawing out her anticipation. “Can’t take my touch? Can’t take my pleasure? Or can’t you take… much more?”

Lyra groaned, her head thrashing back and forth against the torn-up grass. “Don’t… don’t tease me, son… please… just… just do it…”

Alaric chuckled, a low, satisfied sound. “As you wish, Mother.” He withdrew his fingers, then shifted his position, kneeling between her legs, his gaze locking with hers, his ruby eyes burning with desire. He could see the raw need in her purple-tinged blue eyes, the desperate plea for release, the utter surrender in her gaze.

He lowered himself slowly, deliberately, teasing the entrance to her body with the tip of his shaft, drawing out her anticipation to a fever pitch. Lyra gasped, her hips lifting off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist, urging him closer, deeper.

“Yes… please… now, Alaric… now…” she begged, her voice a desperate whisper.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. With a slow, controlled thrust, he pushed into her, filling her completely, feeling her tightness grip him, her heat envelop him. Lyra cried out, a sharp intake of breath that quickly morphed into a long, drawn-out moan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He paused for a moment, letting her adjust to his size, letting the sensation build between them, letting the Beast Essence further amplify their connection, their intimacy. Lyra’s legs tightened around his waist, her nails digging into his back, urging him deeper, faster.

He obliged, his movements becoming more insistent, more rhythmic, each thrust sending waves of sensation through them both. He watched her face, her expressions mirroring the escalating pleasure that coursed through her. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She was beautiful, utterly captivating in her surrender, in her raw, untamed desire.

He deepened his thrusts, his rhythm growing more aggressive, more demanding. He reached down, cupping her buttocks, lifting her hips higher, giving himself even greater access. Lyra’s moans intensified, her body arching and bucking beneath him, her pleasure radiating outwards, engulfing him.

“Oh, Alaric… yes… harder… deeper…” she gasped, her voice breathless, her body trembling with each thrust. “You feel… so good… so big… inside me…”

He chuckled again, a low, possessive sound. “And you feel perfect, Mother,” he murmured back, his voice thick with lust, his gaze locked on her face, drinking in her pleasure, feeding off her desire. “Perfectly tight, perfectly wet, and perfectly mine.”

He changed positions, rolling them over so she was on top, straddling him, her legs wrapped around his waist. This position gave him an even more breathtaking view of her breasts, bouncing with each of her movements as she set her own pace, riding him with a newfound abandon, a wildness that he both ignited and reveled in. He reached up, cupping her breasts, kneading and squeezing them as she moved, his thumbs circling her nipples, sending shivers of ecstasy through her.

“Yes, Mother, ride me,” he commanded, his voice rough, his hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements, controlling her rhythm, driving her even higher. “Ride me like you mean it. Show me how much you want me.”

Lyra needed no further encouragement. She threw her head back, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, her moans echoing across the training field, her body moving with a primal rhythm, a sensual dance between master and slut, entwined in a dance as old as time itself.