Free Web NovelChapter 111: Are You Still... Jason? [18+]
Ylva moved like a ghost through the crumbling ruins, her claws scraping against the broken stone as she led the group away from the castle. Behind her, Mae’s hooves clicked nervously, her tail swishing with each step. The ant king lumbered in an unconscious daze, antennae twitching. Ylva’s scouts flanked the edges, ears pricked for any sound from the Marrow.
"We need distance," Ylva hissed, her lupine ears swiveling. "The vines have opened up, but that doesn’t mean we’re safe. Regroup at the entrance. Then we plan."
Her mind raced through contingencies—how to breach the castle again, what weapons they could salvage, whether the ant king should be left behind in its current wounded state.
She had barely finished the thought when a sound stopped her cold.
Footsteps, it was steady and unhurried.
Coming from the castle’s main gate.
Ylva spun, teeth bared, hand dropping to the hilt of her blade. The others froze.
Jason emerged from the shadows.
But there was something clearly wrong with him.
The light caught him in silhouette first—his frame seemed larger, shoulders broader, posture carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before. When he stepped fully into the open, Ylva’s nose caught a scent that made her hackles rise. It was Jason’s sweat, his blood, his leather and steel. But layered over it, woven through it, was something else. The same scent that had clung to the creature in the chair and there was no doubt something had happened in there.
Ylva’s claws extended involuntarily. Her heart hammered.
Jason’s eyes found her across the courtyard, glowing with a faint amber light, pupils slitted like a cat’s. The gold symbol on his forehead pulsed with a slow, rhythmic beat.
He didn’t speak. He simply walked toward them, each step deliberate.
Mae took a step back. Her hooves scraped against the stone, a small sound that cut through the silence. Her nostrils flared—she could feel it too. The change.
Jason’s gaze shifted to Mae, and his lips curled into something that was almost a smile. It reminded Ylva of the creature’s expression—amused, detached, hungry.
"Don’t run," he said. His voice was deeper, rougher, with an echo that vibrated in the air. "I need you."
Mae’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Her body moved on its own—another step back, her hooves slipping on loose gravel. Her udder swayed beneath her simple tunic, heavy with milk, and she crossed her arms over her chest as if to shield herself.
Jason closed the distance in a few long strides. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to. The air around him seemed to thicken, pressing down on them all.
He stopped in front of Mae, close enough that his breath ghosted across her face. She was taller than him by a head, but somehow she felt small.
"Your milk," Jason said, his eyes tracing down her body to the swell of her breasts. "I need its healing properties. I need to be at full strength."
Mae swallowed hard. "Yes... I can—"
"Take one out."
The command was flat. Absolute. No room for negotiation.
Mae hesitated, glancing at Ylva. But Ylva could only watch—her own body locked in place by something she didn’t understand. The pressure in the air, the weight of Jason’s gaze, the way the roots at the edge of the courtyard twitched as if awaiting his command.
Mae pulled the fabric aside. Her right breast slipped free, full and heavy, the nipple dark and swollen against the pale skin. Milk beaded at the tip, a pearl of white that caught the fading light.
Jason’s smile widened.
He reached out and grabbed her breast—not gently, not hesitantly. His fingers dug into the soft flesh, squeezing, feeling its weight. Mae gasped, her back arching involuntarily. He squeezed harder, and milk squirted from her nipple, landing in warm streaks across his palm and dripping onto the stone.
"Please..." Mae whispered, her voice cracking. freewebnσvel.cѳm
But she didn’t finish. She didn’t know what she was pleading for.
Jason leaned in, his lips parting. When his mouth closed around her nipple, he sucked hard—a deep, pulling draw that drained the milk from her breast in a thick stream. His free hand came up to cup the underside, fingers kneading, pressing, squeezing until more milk spilled from the corners of his lips, running down her skin in white rivulets.
Mae’s knees buckled. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. She bit her lip to stifle the moan that rose in her throat, but it escaped anyway—a desperate, whining sound.
"Jason... that’s... that’s too much—"
He didn’t stop. His mouth worked rhythmically, drawing milk deep into his throat. His hand on her breast squeezed harder, coaxing more, until milk was pouring from her like a broken tap, soaking his face, her tunic, the ground between her hooves. She felt something leave her—not just the liquid, but warmth, energy, mana. Her healing essence pouring into him.
But instead of weakening, Jason seemed to grow. The symbol on his forehead pulsed brighter. His muscles tensed. His jaw worked rhythmically.
Mae’s eyes fluttered closed. Her body was betraying her—her hips rocking forward, her fingers pressing his face deeper into her chest. Some part of her mind screamed that this was wrong, that the man in her arms didn’t feel like anymore. But her body remembered his comfort, warmth, the instinct to nourish. Her hands held his head like a mother cradling a child, pulling him closer.
"More," she heard herself whisper. "Take more..."
Jason pulled back, his lips wet with milk, his eyes burning gold. He looked at her breast, at the pale skin marked by his fingers, at the milk still dribbling. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"You taste even better," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. Mae shuddered.
"I need to heal fully," Jason said, his eyes dropping to the bulge in his trousers. "You said your milk works best when you’re aroused?"
Mae nodded, her breath catching. She knew what he was asking. There was no way he planned to fuck her out here, in front of Ylva—but looking at his crotch, his cock was already erect, straining against the leather.
"Take it off," Jason commanded.
Ylva sighed, turning away. She couldn’t believe it, but Jason was right—he needed to be at full strength if they were to stand a chance. She kept her back to them, ears straining to catch every sound.
Mae didn’t bend over. Instead, she turned to face him, her plump ass swaying as she shifted. Her tail wagged nervously. Jason smirked, then suddenly he was lifting her—his increased strength made the full-grown cow-woman feel like a child in his arms. He hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, and then he dropped her onto his cock.
The standing missionary position. Her back against the broken pillar, his hips pressed against hers, his length buried deep inside her wet cunt.
Mae cried out. His cock filled her completely, stretching her inner walls. Jason began to move—raising her up and dropping her down, using his strength to bounce her on his shaft. Each thrust drove him deeper.
He buried his face in her breasts again, taking one nipple in his mouth and sucking hard while his fingers found the other, squeezing and kneading until milk sprayed across his face, down her belly, onto the stone.
"Fuck... Jason—" Mae’s moans echoed across the courtyard. Her claws scraped against his back, leaving red welts. She came on his cock despite her fear—her body shaking, trembling like she was having a seizure.
Jason grunted, his rhythm faltering. "I’m going to—"
He pulled out just in time. His cum shot across her belly, her breasts, the ground, hot and thick. Mae’s legs gave out, but he caught her, lowering her gently to the ground.
"I almost forgot how good you felt," Jason said, his voice softening. The milk had healed him fully—he could feel the energy singing through his veins.
He stood and walked toward Ylva, who still had her back turned. He grabbed her shoulder, turned her around, and kissed her.
She tasted milk—warm, sweet, tinged with Mae’s essence. As the milk passed from his mouth into hers, she felt the wound in her throat seal closed. The fatigue drained from her bones. Her muscles relaxed.
Jason pulled back, a smirk on his lips. "You need to be well rested, princess."
Ylva blinked. "Jason... are you okay?"
He nodded, raising his hand. The vines around the courtyard twitched, then rose, moving in unison at his command. They curled around his fingers like loyal serpents.
"I have the power to save Thalion," he said. "And I know where he is."
Ylva stared at the vines, at the golden symbol on his forehead, at the creature’s scent still clinging to him. He could control it and there was no doubt with this power he would be able to save Thalion.
"How?" she whispered.
Jason’s smile was cold. "Let’s just say the creature and I came to an understanding."
