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Three more months later...

- Deya ... - male fingers, lightly tickling, ran along the bare back. - Deya-ya-ya ... - Beria whispered in the ear of his wife, who was sleeping sweetly, hugging the pillow touchingly. Pillow, not his, legal spouse.

- Mmm… what? the girl sighed, eyes closed as her hot breath touched her neck.

- It's time to feed the children, - said Beria, carefully brushing aside his silky hair and kissing the soft skin on his neck.

-Yeah...

His fingers traced wavy patterns between his shoulder blades, moving down and up his spine.

Dea, are you sleeping? the man asked ingratiatingly.

- Get away from her, - Aznar's displeased voice was heard. Bery tried to get it in the dark with his foot so as not to interfere, but instead he heard a dull sound of a blow and a quiet hiss.

-For what? Beria groaned. - Deya!

“Your children, you feed…” the princess muttered unintelligibly.

“Yes, I would love to,” Bery quipped, rubbing his cheekbone.

- Shh, - Aznar hissed at him, - let him slee
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