Arc-6 Ch-1.5

 [T/N- If you think chapter naming is bit disrespectful , I want to clarify it was in original japanese text, yeah the chapter name was in English, https://syosetu.org/novel/312750/19.html]

I can’t sleep. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tossed and turned. Tomorrow at noon, an envoy from Lady Mylene is scheduled to arrive from the capital. It’s typical that when I want to face a situation with utmost focus, trivial worries keep me awake. That said, the dilemmas I’m grappling with are too unique to discuss with anyone else.

In the Bartfort household, Leon is the only one who shares my aspirations. Countless stories in this world claim that sharing secrets strengthens bonds, but the human spirit isn’t strong enough to bear such heavy secrets for long. It’s obvious that living openly and honestly is better for both mind and body, yet people can’t stop scheming.

In this particular matter, I must personally persuade my father. From the start of this plan, I knew I have to be the one to convince him. The cooperative relationship between Lady Mylene and my father, which lasted for years, has soured—not to the point of enmity, but certainly not amicable—since the scandal of my broken engagement.

If Father is aiming to usurp the throne, he must even be considering regicide. Can I really persuade such a father?

It’s only natural that thinking about that approaching moment keeps me awake. It’s strange, but the Bartfort household, where I’ve lived for less than five years since marrying, feels more familiar to me now than the Redgrave household, where I spent three-quarters of my life.

Prioritizing my husband, with whom I share a political marriage, over my blood-related parents makes me an unfilial daughter, deserving of being disowned by the ducal house. My father is strict with himself and others but not a villain. Even if he’s plotting to usurp the throne, it’s not out of greed but a sense of responsibility as someone of royal blood to rebuild a weakened kingdom.

That makes persuading him all the more daunting. I let out another sigh and twist my body. I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent agonizing like this. The more I try to sleep, the further sleep slips away. This suffocating feeling isn’t just mental. Looking down, I see my greatly swollen abdomen.

If my mental distress is caused by the trip to the capital, my physical distress stems from my pregnant body. In the final month, my abdomen has reached its maximum expansion. It obstructs my view, making it hard to see my feet, and even changing clothes or using the bathroom is a struggle.

Without the help of servants or the Bartfort family, I’d barely manage daily life. Even lying in bed, I’m constantly preoccupied with finding a position that minimizes strain on my abdomen. During pregnancy, lying face-down or on my back feels suffocating and prevents sleep, so I must lie on my side to breathe comfortably.

Maintaining the same position is exhausting and puts strain on other parts of my body. Searching for a comfortable, strain-free position ensures sleep never comes.

“What’s wrong?”

A voice calls from behind me. Leon, concerned about my restless tossing, speaks in a gentle tone. I hear something move, and a large presence presses against my back. I know it’s Leon’s body without needing to look. As he gently embraces me, I feel the tension in my body slowly melt away, though I burn with embarrassment.

He slips an arm under me to help me find a comfortable position. Having lived and slept together since our marriage, Leon knows me better than I know myself.

“Think you can sleep now?”

“Yeah, it’s much better.”

He supports my body with one arm while combing my hair with the other. The warmth of Leon’s calloused, rugged hand feels comforting. His gentle, almost pampering touch makes me feel like a cat being groomed. Leon doesn’t ask me anything. While sharing worries can lighten the heart when anxious, I’m grateful he’s focusing on comforting me now.

His caresses shift from my head to my abdomen. Unlike the curious, eager touches of our children feeling their sibling in my womb, his touch cherishes both me and the baby. Through my clothes, I savor the warmth and texture of his palm on my abdomen, feeling my rigid body and heart melt simultaneously.

Gradually, Leon’s caresses change. No longer just gentle concern, his subtle pressure seems to stroke not just the surface but the depths of my abdomen, igniting a warmth within. The heat from his closely pressed body shifts from tender warmth to the heat of desire. Most tellingly, something hard and hot presses against my hips.

The moment I recognize what it is, a sweet shiver runs through my lower body. Even as our bodies burn with passion, Leon doesn’t make a move. If I refused now, he’d likely back off obediently. But my anxious heart and body reject reason’s restraint.

“Hey, Leon.”

“What?”

“Your touch has changed.”

“Has it?”

Leon feigns ignorance, fully aware of how sensual his touch has become, yet he doesn’t stop. His hands glide over my abdomen, stimulating my insides with heat and sensation. He continues to touch me as if teaching the organ, swollen hundreds or thousands of times from carrying a child, how much he loves me. The ache in my lower body turns to lust, moistening my core as undeniable proof of my desire spills out.

“The kids don’t touch me as lewdly as you do.”

“I’m just trying to help you relax, Angie.”

“And this is how? Save the jokes for when you’re asleep.”

“Well, you know…”

Leon’s hand moves from my abdomen to my lower body—navel, lower abdomen, groin. His fingertips brush my most sensitive spot through my undergarments. The moment he touches my hardened, aroused bud, a wave of pleasure nearly buckles my knees. But the stimulation stops there. His hand rests over my groin, unmoving.

Desperate for more, I try to move my hips, but pressed tightly against him, I’m powerless to resist. Burning with desire, I wait endlessly for the moment. When his hand finally moves away from my groin, what felt like seconds or centuries ends. His opened palm in front of me is wet with my fluids.

“You’re feeling good too, right, Angie?”

“…Idiot.”

My neck burns with embarrassment as his warm breath brushes against it. Then, a rough sensation crawls along my neck. His tongue, making wet sounds, licks my neck as if savoring prey. There’s no disgust—only a sense of wanting more as he meticulously caresses my body, delivering pleasure. Something hard presses against my neck. Realizing it’s his teeth, I try to pull away but fail. With no other choice, I grab the back of his hand, still stroking me, to stop him.

“Did it hurt?”

“No, I’m saying stop because it’ll leave marks.”

“Your neck’s sensitive, isn’t it?”

“If someone saw marks, it’d be embarrassing. What if they realized we were intimate the day before?”

“I wasn’t planning to go that far.”

“…What?”

“I was just trying to make you feel good so you could sleep, Angie. Were you thinking we’d have sex?”

Leon’s words fill me with deep shame. It’s true—he’s continued caressing me but hasn’t tried to penetrate. Yet the penis pressing against my hips doesn’t hide its assertive instinct to connect with the female body before it. So, I mistakenly thought Leon wanted intercourse. As if seeing through my heart, Leon’s lips pull away from my neck.

He gently lifts my chin, turning my face sideways, and his face appears before me. His parted lips reveal a red mouth and tongue, like a carnivorous beast about to devour its prey. Strangely, there’s no fear—only anticipation of being consumed by Leon. His hands resume their caresses, stroking my body. He unbuttons my nightgown one by one, exposing parts of my body covered by the fabric. Though it’s early spring, the nights are still chilly, yet I feel cool because my body is burning.

Leon’s hands slip through the gap in my nightgown and begin kneading my breasts. His firm fingertips slowly massage my breasts, which have grown larger since before pregnancy. It’s not rough, but not overly gentle either. He lifts my breasts from below, instinctively finding the most sensitive spots without looking. When he simultaneously pinches my now-sensitive, darkened nipples, a sweet shiver runs from my chest to my groin.

It feels good—so good my mind feels like it’s melting. As I surrender to the pleasure of my breasts being kneaded, breathing heavily, a wet sensation begins to spread from my chest. A distinct smell wafts around the bed, and I glance down to see the chest of my nightgown stained black. It’s breast milk leaking from my nipples.

Normally, Leon would latch onto my breasts at this point, but today he doesn’t. He continues kissing me, gently kneading my breasts. When his hands pull away, they move to my hips. My hips, repeatedly prodded by his erect penis earlier, are now stroked by hands as hot as his member, causing more fluids to seep from my groin.

As he places a hand on my undergarments, they’re slowly pulled down. Before I realize it, I’m moving my body to make it easier, not resisting but actively aiding in undressing. Finally, he’ll touch me directly. The joy of that thought makes the fluids overflowing from my core increase. When his large hands touch my groin, my body spasms, craving pleasure. He pinches my hard, large bud and slides a finger into my wet core, indulging me in pleasure far more intense than self-pleasure.

With my pregnant belly so large I can’t see my feet, self-pleasure is clumsy and hindered. This stimulation is overwhelmingly effective on my current body. His caresses return to my abdomen, and something hard and hot touches my hips. I know it’s Leon’s penis, now touching my body directly, not through fabric. That hot, hard member prods my hips while he gently strokes my belly.

It feels like my uterus, expanded hundreds of times by pregnancy, is being caressed directly through my skin. The fetus inside moves, as if chastising its parents for indulging in passion and ignoring its existence. The overwhelming sense of immorality and guilt threatens to crush my heart, but for my lascivious body, it only fuels the fire of pleasure. Leon’s lustful penis slowly parts my thighs.

No matter how tightly I press my thighs together, it seeks the gap, heading toward its destination.

Fluids from the tip of Leon’s glans mix with the fluids overflowing from my core, creating a frothy mess.

A hard sensation moves between my core and anus, sliding along my body.

*Squish…*

A faint, wet sound vibrates my eardrums, and his penis slides into my core. Or so it should have. Our overly wet genitals misjudge their positions, and he misses, sliding past. His penis rubs the gap in my groin—an act just short of intercourse, known as intercrural sex. Normally, he’d reposition and penetrate immediately, but we’re too aroused for that. His hard, hot penis rubs against my equally hard, hot bud. Each movement stimulates my bud, intoxicating me with pleasure.

Intercourse is meant for procreation, but as a pregnant woman, I can’t conceive now. So isn’t it fine to indulge in sex purely for pleasure? Such a flimsy excuse doesn’t change the truth: Leon and I are driven by lust, unable to stop our bodies. Leon moves his hips vigorously, as if thrusting roughly into a vagina.

Each movement fills the bedroom with wet sounds and a woman’s moans. Realizing the voice is mine, I bite my lower lip to suppress it, but the relentless pleasure makes me moan again. I’m devouring fleeting pleasure. Casting aside my dignity as a viscount’s wife, my noble restraint, and my maternal virtue, I satisfy my lust. 

Leon is likely the same—a beast consumed with mating. His penis, vigorously prodding my groin, trembles slightly, signaling impending release. Having received his seed hundreds of times, I recognize the signs, but there’s no place to receive it now. Inserting into my core now is impossible given our position and intensity. With no choice, I gently slide my hands along my groin, touching the sensitive tip of his penis.

His member, previously thrusting into empty air, finds a target and thrusts harder. The intense rubbing sets my groin ablaze, repeatedly stimulating my bud as fluids drip.

*Doppyu! ♡*

A hot impact hits my palm—his semen. Just before realizing it, I climax from the stimulation to my bud. Our bodies tremble with the pleasure of climax, and we remain motionless for a while. When the afterglow of climax finally fades, we sluggishly move to clean up. My nightgown and undergarments are soiled with bodily fluids, and my body is sticky with sweat. The lingering scent of sex speaks to the intensity of our act.

It’s already late at night; I really need to sleep. As I wipe my body with a wet towel, I toy with the semen on my palm. If this had been released inside my vagina… The lascivious thought threatens to reignite my smoldering desire, so I desperately shake it off. But as I try, something large covers my body.

“Angie.”

“Stop, I can’t handle any more.”

“Really?”

I push back against Leon, who tries to embrace me again after I’ve just cleaned myself. His penis has lost its vigor, returning to its normal size. Having satisfied some of our lust, lying down now should let me sleep.

Yet Leon doesn’t stop caressing me.

“It’s already late. I can’t be exhausted tomorrow when I head to the capital.”

“I know you’re going to the capital, but can you really hold back, Angie?”

“Of course I can.”

“I’ll join you in the capital, and by the time we settle the mess there and return, it’ll be your due date. We won’t be able to have sex for a while then, right?”

“Then stop trying to embrace me when you know that.”

“Six months, Angie. When the twins were born, we were busy, and it took six months for you to recover. Are we really going to abstain the whole time?”

“I satisfied your urges without intercourse, didn’t I?”

“Then I want to do it now so we won’t need to for a while.”

Leon holds my body to keep me from escaping. It’s no use—I can’t match his strength.

“Besides, I can’t help wanting to hold you right now, Angie.”

“Normal men don’t get aroused by pregnant women. Why are you such a pervert?”

“Because you’re so captivating. It’s your fault for being so tempting.”

“I’m not tempting you!”

Despite my verbal refusal, Leon doesn’t stop caressing me. He lifts me onto his lap, stimulating my body relentlessly with his mouth and hands.

“Your big, milk-leaking breasts…”

“Don’t knead them! Don’t toy with them!”

“Your belly, swollen to the brim with our baby…”

“I told you to stop stroking it!”

“Your hips that could bear countless children, your pleasurable vagina—everything’s to my taste. So I won’t stop.”

“Ughhh!”

His passionate words and caresses make parts of my body wet again. Above all, my instincts are screaming. Are you really satisfied? Don’t you want more? It’s not enough—something crucial is missing. Even after bearing his children and conceiving again, my body craves something uncontrollably. I know what it is, but resisting it isn’t about reason—it’s a tactic to keep my mate bound to me.

“Do you really love holding me that much?”

“I love you so much no other woman catches my eye.”

“Then what have you been doing lately? Leaving your wife and kids on weekends to go where?”

“…I can’t say.”

“To another woman?”

“No way!”

“Then do something about that shriveled, pathetic thing. Are you going to hold me or not? I hate indecisive men.”

Leon’s penis, after its vigorous release, is now shrunken. In this state, he can’t embrace me even if he wants to. The sight of him desperately fumbling with his groin is somewhat comical yet endearing. With a sigh of resignation, I give in to my weakness for him and help. I slowly bend down, bringing my face close to his groin. The pungent scent of sex stimulates my nose, but it’s not unpleasant.

As if in retaliation for his earlier caresses, I gently stimulate his penis. Rubbing it like warming frozen hands, it gradually grows hot and hard, but it’s still not enough for intercourse. I bring my face closer and kiss his penis—something I never would’ve considered before. Who would’ve thought a book on bedroom techniques, read as part of my queenly education, would prove useful like this?

Not satisfied with kissing, I take it into my mouth, licking and sucking. Leon’s muffled voice reaches my ears, and the fact that he’s feeling it makes my groin wet. Each movement of my tongue makes his penis regain its hardness, and when I take his scrotum in my mouth, it feels heavier, pulsing.

When I pull my face away, his penis has regained its vigor. No, it might be even harder and larger than before, with veins bulging on its surface, twitching with the rush of blood. My body is already prepared.

Licking a man’s penis while wetting my groin, driven by lust while pregnant—what a depraved state, worse than a prostitute. Even if my reason condemns me, I can’t help wanting to be held by him. I want to couple now, but my pregnant body makes it difficult. No matter how consumed by lust, I must fulfill my duties as a mother.

I gather pillows and blankets to make a makeshift cushion, adjusting it to the perfect height for getting on all fours. Straddling it, I assume a beastly posture. It’s an unseemly sight, exposing my hips to my husband. In front of Leon’s eyes, not just my vagina but even the wrinkles of my anus must be clearly visible.

Writhing in shame, I sway my body slightly, not to entice but to end this embarrassing moment quickly. But to Leon, it must look like his lust-soaked wife raising her hips to beg for sex, as his excited, ragged breathing betrays his arousal. Like before, a hot, hard sensation touches my hips, but this time it heads straight for my core without missing. The moment the glans meets my core, my body trembles with the sensation and sound.

*Zuruuu!*

A lewd, wet sound echoes, and the sensation of being penetrated makes my body arch.

“Ahh…”

“Hoo…”

My body trembles with joy at the long-awaited sensation. This is it—this is what I wanted. The symbol of the man who took my virginity, poured his seed into me countless times, got me pregnant, and still desires me. After countless thrusts, my vagina has molded to fit his shape. Like a key and lock, no substitute could replace it.

Even though my uterus has expanded and my vagina shortened due to pregnancy, it doesn’t feel that way. If anything, the closeness of my cervix to the surface makes the pleasure more intense despite the limited movement. My vagina writhes in joy at finally being penetrated, welcoming his penis, tightening around it as if declaring Leon the master of my body, ignoring my will.

“Ah, ha, ugh, fah!”

His glans repeatedly parts my vagina, hitting the spots that make me feel. Does he instinctively know my sensitive spots, or has he learned my weaknesses through countless embraces? If the former, our bodies are innately compatible; if the latter, he knows every inch of me. That fact fills me with such joy that I moan like a rutting beast. Leon doesn’t disdain my lustful state—he’s the one who made me this way.

As I tighten my vagina to make him take responsibility, his thrusts grow fiercer. My vagina, pounded fiercely, gushes more fluids, desperately enticing him—a cycle that repeats endlessly.

*Gori!*

“―――!?”

The moment he hits the most pleasurable spot—the cervix at the depths of my vagina—my fluids spurt out. The convulsing sensation in my vagina tells me I’ve climaxed. But Leon hasn’t ejaculated; despite my climax, he continues thrusting relentlessly. As if it’s unfair that only I’ve climaxed, he pounds my cervix repeatedly.

“Ee! Gah! Oh! Hii!”

I let out beastly roars, desperately tightening my vagina. If I don’t make Leon ejaculate soon, the pleasure might drive me mad. As I focus on my vagina, Leon’s hands seize my breasts, catching me off guard. The next moment, my mind flashes, and I climax silently. Milk leaking from my nipples stains the bedsheets. I feel a masochistic pleasure in my depravity, shamelessly enticing my mate with my pregnant body.

Every spot Leon touches feels good, and like a beast pleasing its master, I tremble with pleasure. I don’t know how much time has passed, but my vaginal walls sense his penis twitching. Before I can think, my vagina writhes, tightening around him. Desperately holding his penis, ensuring no seed spills, every fold of my vaginal walls licks and sucks him. His glans rhythmically, forcefully pounds my cervix. His trembling penis thrusts hard against my cervix.

*Duku, duku, dopyuu!*

A sensation of something bursting fills my vagina, and a liquid different from my fluids wets my groin. While my dazed mind reels, my vaginal walls clamp down tightly to keep the proof of our lust from leaking. As the wave of climax subsides, Leon’s hand covers mine as I try to pull away. I feel his lips on my neck, my entire body enveloped by his.

His penis, supposedly spent after ejaculating inside, regains its vigor. I understand what he wants. In response, I muster strength, my vaginal walls stimulating his penis to encourage its erection. Half-limp, he resumes thrusting, and I let out a groan of ecstasy. In the end, we couldn’t stop indulging in carnal desire until nearly dawn. As a result, when the escort from the capital arrived, I was exhausted and haunted by strange nightmares—a story for another time.

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Authors Note

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I have a bad habit of wanting to write erotic scenes at pivotal moments in the story.  

So here’s an adult-oriented Leon-Angelica chapter.  

It’s not that I love pregnant belly erotica—it’s just that, given the story’s structure, Angelica is pregnant, so it inevitably becomes pregnant belly erotica. (Really!)  

With the original work’s conclusion approaching, I’m writing with a slightly twisted fetish, so please bear with me.  

The next erotic chapter will be posted on the release date of the original work’s final volume.  

I’d greatly appreciate your opinions and feedback to motivate me moving forward.