Chapter 71

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Grondil had casually dismissed Erin’s strict warnings forbidding intense intercourse with Lino, naively assuming that since his rut had passed, his only duty was shielding his mate from external threats. However, he was brutally forced to admit his own complacency; a mere day after arriving in Isberg, he realized that the greatest danger to Lino was Grondil himself.

‘Didn’t my rut… end already?’

Merely seeing Lino lying peacefully on his bed with a swollen belly caused his cock to harden so fiercely it ached. Given that no one had ever laid upon his bed in the Isberg palace before, it was only natural he felt profoundly moved by the sight.

But to suddenly erupt with an erection so violent it felt like his dick might explode right then and there? Utterly unable to comprehend his own physiological reaction, he immediately stormed off to find Erin.

“Uh… there is no precedent for this, so I am not entirely certain, but considering your rut cycles shortened after meeting the Letia, wouldn’t this symptom also be an influence of his presence? It’s merely a hypothesis. Ah, it’s driving me crazy just guessing! May I schedule a comprehensive medical exam for him?”

“Hand over rut suppressants.”

“Hmm… Suppressants won’t work on you, Lord Castillion. How could a harmful chemical drug possibly affect the body of the Beloved of the Gods?”

“Then develop a healthy suppressant.”

“If I were capable of that, do you think I’d be working here? I would have founded my own pharmaceutical empire.”

Ultimately, without so much as catching a glimpse of a suppressant, Grondil was forced to jerk off alone for the first time in his life to cool his raging heat. Still, watching Lino’s belly grow day by day, he rejoiced that his period of endurance was shortening. Just two more months. I can hold out, he had firmly resolved.

Then, a massive problem struck Lino.

“Urp… I-I’m so sorry. You put so much effort into making this… but I just can’t eat it.”

A bout of morning sickness on an entirely different dimension from what he had experienced in the Zetina Kingdom had erupted. Since his stomach violently rejected even the meals Erin personally prepared, Lino’s health predictably began to spiral.

His already slender waist thinned to a terrifying degree, and the flesh melted away from his chest and buttocks—the areas with the most fat that Grondil so loved to knead. In just a single month, without much exaggeration, Lino had withered away to half his size.

Lino had always been frail. If Lino—who possessed a height and build exceeding the average adult human male—heard this, he would have scoffed in disbelief. But that was by ordinary human standards; Grondil evaluated him based on Isberg standards, where every physical function vastly outclassed a human’s. In that context, calling him incredibly frail was entirely accurate, especially since Lino would be living alongside him in Isberg for the rest of his life.

Though Lino was slightly fed up with Grondil treating him like a three-year-old toddler, the extreme physical toll of his morning sickness left him unable to protest, forcing him to meekly accept Grondil’s obsessive pampering. After briefly losing consciousness and collapsing in front of Grondil, he had to admit he was too weak to proudly claim he ‘exceeded the average adult male.’ He had been reduced to a pathetic, heartbreaking state: nothing but skin and bones with a protruding, round belly.

Regardless, with whatever little fat he had vanishing and him lying limply in bed, Grondil had to make Lino eat a proper meal by any means necessary. The cubs in his belly were a concern, yes, but more importantly, Lino’s life was on the line.

Every thirty minutes, Grondil asked Lino if there was anything he craved. He had heard that pregnant people usually yearned for their mother’s cooking, childhood snacks, or regional specialties from their hometown.

But Lino had been abandoned at an orphanage the moment he was born, and the Haklan estate that adopted him at age nine never treated him as family. Confined to a room until he was seventeen, he was managed on an extremely restrictive diet purely for aesthetic maintenance. Naturally, Lino possessed no such comfort foods.

Recalling the three years Lino spent at the Order of St. Margia, Grondil formulated a plan to drag their chef to Isberg. However, upon reviewing the reports detailing the knight order’s menus, ingredient suppliers, and kitchen conditions, Grondil instantly aborted the plan. Vegetables on the verge of rotting, meat composed entirely of fat, unsanitary kitchens… How could food produced in such abysmal conditions with garbage ingredients possibly be good for a pregnant body?

Even so, he considered having his own chefs recreate the flavors if it suited Lino’s palate. Yet, when he casually brought up the knight order’s meals, Lino’s grimace of pure disgust confirmed the food there had been absolutely dreadful. In the end, Lino was forced to sustain his minimal stamina on a few sips of water, nutritional supplements, and sweet-and-sour candies.

One day, while enduring this grueling routine, Lino called out to Grondil in a faint, trembling voice.

“L-Lord Grondil. There is… something I want to eat.”

Hearing that Lino finally had a craving, Grondil shot up from his seat so violently his chair flew backward. Fortunately, he wasn’t the only one exhibiting such an extreme reaction; Erin, who was present, literally jumped out of her skin in excitement.

She eagerly urged him to name it, promising to procure whatever it was immediately. But strangely, Lino’s face burned a violent red as he whispered that he only wanted to tell Grondil. He literally whispered it. By all appearances, he was about to confess something profoundly embarrassing.

Why is he so embarrassed about a food craving? Both Grondil and Erin were deeply puzzled, but since Lino voluntarily asking for food was a momentous occasion in itself, they decided to ignore the oddity.

Proclaiming that a husband must take responsibility for his beloved wife’s morning sickness, Erin threw a playful wink and slipped out of the room. Left alone in the drawing room, Lino grabbed Grondil’s sleeve and tugged him toward the bedroom. Scooping up Lino—whose legs wobbled dangerously from malnutrition—Grondil couldn’t help but tilt his head in confusion at the demand to go to the bed.

If it’s just something he wants to eat, why the bed? There’s no need for pillow talk just to name a dish. Ah, fuck. Pillow talk. I’d love to be subjected to a hardcore session of that. Just wait until those little brats crawl out of Lino’s belly. I’ll toss them to Erin and Enoch and ensure Lino can’t leave the bed for at least four months. I will ruthlessly roll him around in those sheets for the exact duration of my forced celibacy. 

Outwardly, Grondil smiled as affectionately as if he were ready to pluck the stars from the sky, while inwardly, he ground his teeth, eagerly anticipating what Lino was about to request. He waited impatiently for Lino to speak so he could procure the food immediately.

Completely oblivious to Grondil’s inner turmoil, Lino chewed nervously on his lip, inexplicably consumed by embarrassment. Finally, he pulled Grondil’s face close and whispered directly into his ear. Even though they were the only two in the bedroom, Lino breathed the words so softly, as if terrified someone might overhear.

“…”

In that instant, every single one of Grondil’s questions was definitively answered. Why Lino was so embarrassed, why he had specifically kicked Erin out, and why he had dragged him to the bed. And just like Lino, Grondil’s face flushed red. For Grondil, whose default expression was composed arrogance, it was an incredibly rare sight. He stared down at Lino as if struggling to believe the words he had just heard. Blinking his large eyes, Grondil decided he needed explicit confirmation.

“Lino. Did I hear you correctly just now?”

“Ah, well… um…”

Yes… Lino answered in a voice so tiny it practically crawled back down his throat, even nodding to confirm it. Despite offering only a single, short syllable, the nape of his bowed neck burned a rosy pink. Grondil didn’t even need to look to know that the flush had spread from his ears all the way down to his chest, hidden beneath that thin layer of his shirt.

Suddenly, a specific memory from his estate in the Zetina Kingdom flashed through Grondil’s mind. It was the memory of holding Lino with a vastly lighter heart after shipping Yuneria off to the Cartia Emperor and dismantling the Baron Merchant Guild and Baron Haklan.

Since the early, most fragile stage of pregnancy had passed, they had engaged in penetrative sex. He remembered intentionally leaving about three knuckles’ worth of his cock outside, terrified of thrusting to the root and injuring Lino. The first time, he had knotted inside Lino’s womb; the second time, he had pulled out and unloaded massive ropes of cum across Lino’s chest and stomach. The volume was so enormous it splattered onto Lino’s face, the sticky semen sliding directly into his parted, gasping mouth. Annoyed by Lino scrunching his nose and clamping his mouth shut, Grondil had purposefully jerked his cock and sprayed the remaining load all over the boy’s face. Watching Lino frantically wipe the cum away before it entered his nose, effectively washing his face in semen, had been obscenely arousing.

Lino had undeniably grimaced, calling it metallic, yet he had swallowed his saliva. He had grasped the cock resting against his jaw and lips, guiding it into his mouth. He had even licked a lingering drop of pre-come from the urethra, rubbing it against his tongue before swallowing. When Grondil asked why he was licking it so eagerly if it tasted awful, Lino had offered the absurd, seemingly joking excuse, ‘Is it morning sickness?’ Were those actions not just simple seduction…?

“When you said it was morning sickness back then… were you telling the truth?”

“Uh… I think… that might be the case. Haha…”

Barely managing to lift his head, Lino offered a mortified, awkward laugh. He had desperately tried to hold back because it was so humiliating, but terrified that his severe malnutrition would harm the babies, he had finally summoned the courage to confess. His face was currently as red as a tomato ready to burst. Simultaneously, Grondil’s cock became a stick of dynamite on the verge of detonating.

“Well then… shall we verify if that truly is your morning sickness?”

Nod. 

Lino nodded emphatically. It was a sight so incredibly innocent yet overwhelmingly erotic that Grondil let out a deeply satisfied smile and unbuckled his pants.

Truthfully, even recalling the events in the Zetina Kingdom, he hadn’t fully believed it. What kind of pregnant person drank their husband’s semen to cure their morning sickness?

Grondil had merely assumed it was Lino acting cute because he wanted to do something naughty. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that his own semen was the literal, medical cure for Lino’s extreme morning sickness.

On that day, Grondil learned a profound lesson: things that wildly defy common sense actually happen in reality. And the person committing these acts of defied common sense was none other than his mate, Lino.

Should he rejoice at finally finding a way to alleviate the morning sickness? Or should he mourn his pitiful fate, being strictly banned from penetrative sex yet forced to shove his cock into Lino’s mouth purely as a medical treatment? As his shaft was rigorously sucked, Grondil found himself deeply, intensely conflicted.

The single saving grace was that Lino could consume a proper, hearty meal immediately after drinking Grondil’s semen. While Lino vehemently wanted to keep his bizarre morning sickness a secret from everyone but Grondil, they couldn’t exactly hide it from Erin and Enoch, who were entirely responsible for Lino’s health.

Erin was placed on standby to prepare meals the exact moment Lino was ready to eat, while Enoch was dispatched on Grondil’s behalf to investigate the medical precedent for this bizarre phenomenon. Grondil desperately wanted to know why his semen was the cure.

Finally, Enoch returned with a lead.