#58th.cycle

Mydei sat straddling your lap in the quiet back room of the barn, the scent of fresh hay and warm earth thick in the air. Sunlight slanted through the half-open door, painting golden stripes across his flushed skin. His wrists were loosely bound behind his back with soft leather straps you kept for this purpose, not tight enough to hurt but enough to keep him from hiding. The milking machine hummed quietly on the table beside you, its suction cups already glistening from the milk that had already leaked free.

He shifted, ears flicking, tail curling around your thigh as if seeking anchor. “[N-Name]… this is embarrassing,” he muttered, voice low and rough. A fresh gush of milk spilled from his left pec when your thumbs brushed over the stiff, dark nipples. The warm liquid ran down his abs in slow rivulets, soaking the waistband of the loose pants he still wore.

“Shh, my sweet cow,” you murmured against the shell of his ear, one hand sliding up to cup the heavy swell of his chest. “Let me worship you the way you deserve.”

Mydei’s breath hitched. His hips rolled forward without his permission, grinding the hard line of his cock against your stomach. Even through the fabric you could feel how wet he already was—another quirk of his heat cycle.

You pressed a kiss to the crimson tattoo that curved over his collarbone, then lower, until your lips closed around one leaking nipple. The taste hit you instantly: sweet, rich, warmer than you expected. Mydei’s whole body jerked, a broken moan tearing from his throat as you sucked hard enough to draw another spurt straight onto your tongue.

You didn’t rush. You took your time, alternating between gentle laps and firmer pulls, letting the milk coat your lips and chin while your free hand kneaded the other pec, rolling the nipple between your fingers until more milk beaded and dripped. Mydei’s head fell back, blond-red hair spilling over his shoulders, chest heaving with every shaky breath. His bound hands flexed uselessly behind him, muscles in his arms standing out in sharp relief.

When you finally pulled back, a thin string of milk still connected your mouth to his nipple. You licked it away and smiled up at him. “Such a good prince for me.”

His yellow eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide. “Please… more,” he whispered, voice cracking on the word.

You reached for the milking machine. The soft silicone cups fit perfectly over his swollen pecs, and the moment you switched it on the rhythmic suction began. Mydei’s back arched hard, a guttural sound escaping him as the machine drew long, steady streams of milk from both sides at once. His cock twitched visibly inside his pants, a dark spot spreading where precum had already soaked through.

You didn’t give him time to adjust. Your hands gripped his hips, manhandling him forward until his ass settled more firmly against the bulge in your own pants. You ground up into him in slow, deliberate rolls, letting him feel exactly how hard you were while the machine continued its relentless work. Mydei’s thighs trembled on either side of you. Every time the suction pulled, his hips jerked, grinding down harder, chasing friction.

“[Name]—ah—too much!!” he gasped, yet his body betrayed him, pushing into every touch. Heat rolled off him in waves; you could smell the thick, musky sweetness of his heat growing stronger by the minute.

You freed his cock with one hand, wrapping your fingers around the thick, leaking length. It was already slick, and when you stroked him in time with the machine’s rhythm he cried out, hips bucking. Milk continued to flow into the collection tubes while you worked him steadily, thumb swiping over the slit to gather the clear fluid that mixed with the occasional pearl of something thicker.

“Gonna make you come just like this,” you told him, voice low and steady. “Then I’m going to bend you over and breed you until that pretty little hole can’t hold any more.”

Mydei’s ears flattened back, tail lashing. “Yesyesyes—please—fuck me, fill me—”

You didn’t make him wait long.

The first time you took him that afternoon, you kept the milking machine running. You bent him over the sturdy wooden table, chest pressed to the smooth surface, ass presented and already slick from the heat-slick that had leaked down his thighs.

The suction cups stayed attached, still drawing milk in rhythmic pulses while you lined up and pushed inside in one long, relentless thrust. Mydei’s cry echoed off the barn walls. His inner walls clenched around you, hot and tight and fluttering with every pull of the machine.

You didn’t hold back. Your hands gripped his hips hard enough to leave bruises, pulling him back to meet every snap of your hips. The wet slap of skin on skin mixed with the mechanical hum and Mydei’s broken moans. Every time you bottomed out you felt the machine tug another spurt of milk from his chest, and the sight of it—his powerful body reduced to shaking, leaking, desperate need—made your own control fray.

You bred him thoroughly that first round, grinding deep when you came and holding there until every pulse had been milked from you. Mydei’s own orgasm followed seconds later, his untouched cock spurting thick ropes across the floor while the machine kept working his chest. He was still trembling when you finally eased the suction cups off, but the moment you pulled out he was already pushing back, wordlessly begging for more.

You gave it to him.

The second time you took him on the hay-strewn floor, on his back this time so you could watch his face. His wrists remained bound above his head, attached to a low ring on the wall. You straddled his chest first, feeding one leaking nipple into your mouth while your hand worked his cock in slow, twisting strokes. He tasted even sweeter after the machine had already drawn so much from him. When you finally sank your cock inside him with deliberate control, rolling your hips in deep circles that had him sobbing your name.

“More—!! harder—please, I can take it—,” he begged, voice hoarse. His yellow eyes were wet, tears of overstimulation clinging to his lashes, yet he kept grinding his hips to meet you, chasing every brutal thrust.

You gave him exactly what he asked for. You flipped him onto his stomach again, hauled his hips up, and drove back inside with enough force to make the table legs scrape. Mydei’s tail wrapped around your waist like an anchor while you pounded into him, one hand fisted in his hair, the other reaching around to stroke his oversensitive cock in time with your thrusts. He came again with a broken wail, walls fluttering and milking you until you followed, flooding him a second time.

By the third round his heat had peaked fully.

He was incoherent, begging in broken sentences, milk still leaking in thin streams down his chest even without the machine.

You took him against the wall, one of his legs hooked over your arm so you could drive even deeper. Every thrust punched a gasp from his lungs. You kissed him through it—messy, open-mouthed kisses that tasted of salt and milk and desperation. When you came this time you stayed buried, grinding slow circles while you whispered praise against his ear.

“Good boy… my perfect prince… took everything so well.”

Mydei’s answer was a shaky, grateful moan, his body going pliant in your arms.

You then unbound his wrists first, rubbing circulation back into them with gentle thumbs. Then you cleaned him with warm cloths, careful around the tender skin of his chest and the puffy rim of his hole. You brought him water and a small bowl of the sweet feed the hybrids liked, feeding him by hand while he leaned against your chest, tail curled loosely around your calf. Every few minutes you pressed soft kisses to his forehead, his eyelids, the corner of his mouth, murmuring how beautiful he looked when he let go.

Mydei’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke again. “[Name]… can we… again? Still feels empty.”

You smiled against his hair, already feeling yourself get hard again. “Anything for my sweet cow. Lie back and let me take care of you.”

The sun had shifted lower by the time you finally carried him to the soft pile of blankets in the corner.

You took him once more—slow this time, almost tender, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other stroked his cock in time with your deep, rolling thrusts. Mydei came with a soft, broken sound, and you followed soon after, filling him one last time before pulling him into your arms.

He drifted in that hazy space between exhaustion and satisfaction, milk still faintly beading at his nipples, body marked with your hands and your release. You stayed with him, petting his ears, tracing his tattoos and kept whispering how proud you were of him.

Outside, the farm continued its quiet rhythm, but inside the barn there was only the sound of Mydei’s breathing and the steady beat of your heart against his back.

And you already knew you would be back tomorrow, ready to give your prince everything he needed all over again.

wc— 1826.

( ✎ ) This fic is rushed ngl so it isn't really my best work. But still mydei milk 🤤🤤🤤