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The Archer's Milk

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"Come on, Baby. Squeeze harder," you urged, amusement and desire giving your voice depth.

Emiya scoffed quietly and turned his blushing face away. Glaring at the empty air. His fingers dug into his thick muscles, massaging his pecs.

"You like the way I watch," you accused. "Or at least, your dick does."

You pointed at his clothed cock, straining like a fat sausage in a tight casing. Made your mouth water. That thing belonged in your mouth. But not yet.

Archer turned his hips away, but it only served to give you a side profile of his rounded bulge. He groaned, the pressure he put on his thick tits finally getting to him. He forgot you were there, massaging more vigorously. His lazily circling palms grazed his pert nipples and he whined. It was deep and yearning. He already wanted his end. But he was so far from getting your permission to do so.

"Keep going until Momma gets a drink," you reminded the grumpy Servant.

He grunted in lieu of a snarky reply but obeyed his Master.

His stomach started to bow and his eyes closed to slits. He absolutely refused to make any more noise for you. Instead, his mouth went slack with silent huffs and his tongue peeked out at you. Lolling and shiny with spit.

"Look at you. Falling apart and no one's touched you." You rested your cheek in your palm and grinned.

Emiya pulled his tongue in so fast he almost swallowed it down. You would have laughed if he choked. Let him choke on his spite as long as he gives you what you asked for.

His chin dipped in the more demure expression you could ever pull from him. His blush still coloured his light brown cheeks. Then the first drop of milk formed at one of his nipples. He impatiently squeezed harder, more drops forming and flowing down to his fingers.

The milk flowed more strongly, dribbling down the valleys of his ab muscles and beyond, darkening his black trousers. Which was a problem. Him still wearing the trousers was a problem.

"Hold still, hold still."

You pulled on the waistband of his pants. You got them down to his ankles and he stumbled from lifting a leg to help you take them off. He shot you a glare, blaming you for his clumsiness. For all the blood in his crotch and not in his head. Fine, you could take part of the blame. Some of it rests on his broad shoulders for having such a sensitive chest, though. And a pair of generous pecs.

"Stop acting like you have pride," you taunted. "Get on your knees."

He fell to one, then the other. Still clumsy, still holding his chest. He wasn't going to offer, so you gathered one of his tits firmly in hand and pulled it to your open mouth. The firm flesh was so warm and satisfying to squeeze. You latched on and sucked greedily.

Emiya moaned huskily.

His milk was sweet and creamy. With a little bit of tartness, like his past experiences had affected the taste. As you drank, he mewled. His hand landed heavily on your shoulder, needing support for his weight. You took your mouth away.

"Don't finish yet!"

He huffed sardonically. He didn't think he could hold back for long. Seeing this in his tensed stomach and scrunched face, you pushed him to the floor. He fell easily, pushing himself up on his elbows. You pounced on his cock, giving it a quick clean of precum with your tongue.


He was just holding on. Your lips engulfed the head of his cock and dove further.


Emiya was shaking his head but you chose to ignore him, taking as much of him in as you could. Which was almost all of his length, barely leaving room for your tongue and threatening to make you gag.

Which was enough for now. You took one of his nipples between your thumb and forefinger and pinched, aiming to cause pain.


He bit down, depriving you of his full cry. And not quite as tasty, still you swallowed his warm cum down. It was thick and felt like it got stuck in your throat, like a pill swallowed dry. You sat back between his legs.

Drying rivulets of milk cascaded down his chest and into his clothes. His eyelids were dipping. Exhausted.

"What a mess you are," you said. "It's too bad I don't have my phone on me to take a picture."

He fell flat on his back.

"Please don't," he groaned.