The First Patriarch: Streaming My Cosmic Harem

Chapter 13: Chapter 13: Things Are About to Get Wet

All over the higher planes, the exact same ridiculous scene was playing out.

Divine entities, warlord goddesses, and ancient matriarchs who hadn’t felt their blood pump in millennia were throwing uncharacteristic temper tantrums, frantically buying into the membership like starstruck mortals.

The sole exception to this chaotic madness was Seraphine.

Seated atop her grand, shimmering throne, she stared at the sudden blackening of her screen and the flashing prompt demanding Karma Points.

A melodic, unrestrained laugh broke from her lips, echoing beautifully through the vast chamber.

"Cute bastard," she murmured, a proud, amused smirk gracing her lips as she leaned back.

She could already picture the sheer chaos erupting across the network.

"Oh, those women are going to be absolutely furious."

Without a hint of hesitation, she casually flicked her finger, transferring the required Karma Points to bypass the lock in a fraction of a second.

Once the transaction cleared, she turned her head to look at her primordial sisters, who sat in silent majesty on their own massive thrones nearby.

"Bye, sisters," Seraphine purred, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"I’ll be taking my leave now. Things are about to get wet."

With a soft, knowing smile, she vanished from the chamber, retreating back to the absolute privacy of her personal realm.

Her primordial sisters simply gave a collective, slow nod in response before their own figures dissolved into the ether, vanishing from the grand hall as well.

The moment the floodgates of the premium subscription processed, the visual feed snapped back to life in stunning, high-definition clarity for the newly verified patrons.

A collective, breathless gasp rippled through the network.

The scene on the massive white bed was pure, unadulterated passion.

Duchess Rosalind, the feared, unapproachable Crimson Duchess of the East, had completely lost herself.

There was no trace of the cold, calculating ruler left in her.

She was straddling Azriel, her pristine white hair falling around them like a tangled, silken curtain, completely pinning him against the plush mattress.

She was kissing him with a desperate, sloppy hunger, her lips locking onto his with an intensity that border-lined on feral.

Her tongue slathered against his, abandoning all royal decorum as she drank him in like a dying woman stumbling upon an oasis.

Her golden, slitted eyes were half-lidded and thoroughly clouded with lust, her long white tail lashing frantically against the sheets, wrapping around his thigh as if she were terrified he might vanish if she loosened her grip for even a second.

Azriel lay beneath her, his chest heaving under her weight.

Even with her frantic movements pinning him down, his violet eyes remained sharp, glowing with satisfaction through the strands of her cascading white hair.

He looked directly up into the invisible lens of the Soul Camera, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his swollen, wet lips.

When she finally pulled apart from the breathless kiss, Rosalind looked down at his impossibly handsome face, her golden eyes thoroughly clouded with a raw, unadulterated hunger.

Driven by a wave of pure, overwhelming lust, she didn’t bother using her hands.

A sharp surge of her Aether rippled through the air, instantly shredding his remaining clothes into tiny bits and pieces.

With a casual flick of her mana, the tattered remnants were swept away, gathering neatly in the far corner of the pristine white room.

Her gaze drifted down his chiseled torso, and the moment her eyes landed on his massive, rock-hard length, she audibly gasped.

Though she was a powerful Duchess and a reigning Matriarch in a world where elite women routinely kept vast harems, Rosalind was still a virgin.

Her entire life had been strictly focused on cultivating her strength and expanding her territory, leaving no time for the company of weak men.

She had only ever heard passing rumors about male anatomy, but nothing in the standard lore had prepared her for this.

She had never imagined a man could possess something so intimidatingly large and fiercely well-endowed.

The moment his length sprang free, the AUREALIS Network’s live chat went utterly dead.

For three glorious seconds, a collective, stunned silence gripped the higher planes as a thousand goddesses simultaneously gulped at the screen, their divine composure completely shaken by the sheer, unbridled manifestation of his Abyssal Ardor bloodline.

Then, the floodgates broke, and the chat exploded into a grand chorus of awe.

These were supreme beings, rulers of concepts and constellations, yet they could not help but appreciate a masterpiece of creation when it was unveiled before them.

[ LIVE CHAT: PRIME ACCESS ONLY ]

[I_Love_Leaf] (Golden): Damn.

[Lusty_Sera] (Golden): A magnificent display of the Abyssal Ardor. I told you all, his potential is a divine monument! Truly a sight worthy of the higher planes.

[Moon_Priestess_99] (Cyan): The symmetry... the sheer vitality radiating from him is awe-inspiring. A nineteen-year-old Nocthari possessing such a lineage is a true marvel.

[Crimson_Fury] (White): Hmph. It seems my Karma Points were not wasted after all. That is a form carved by the laws of strength itself.

Overwhelmed by the intoxicating pull of his aura, Rosalind lined him up, preparing to take his dick directly into her dripping, wet pussy.

But Azriel only smiled, his hand firmly catching her waist to halt her descent.

"This is not how you do it, Duchess," he whispered, his deep voice vibrating through her skin. "Let me do it."

Saying this, he moved with explosive, predatory agility, effortlessly reversing their positions and pinning her down against the plush mattress beneath his absolute control.

Rosalind blinked, her breath catching as the world spun and she suddenly found herself pinned beneath Azriel’s heavy, muscular frame.

The absolute dominance in his violet eyes sent a foreign thrill straight down her spine.

Azriel leaned down, his chest brushing against the fine fabric of her bunched-up gown.

He looked at her flushed face, noting the mixture of fierce desire and a subtle, uncharacteristic hesitation in her golden, slitted eyes.

"Duchess," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, teasing purr that grazed the shell of her ear.

"Are you a virgin?"