Knowing that his eldest daughter and the wolf-girl were waiting outside, Al did not stop his movements with his adoptive mother.
At this moment, Alina, the tall and powerful centaur with a significant physical advantage, had already reversed the offensive.
She pulled her adoptive son, who had been proactively serving her, into her embrace, stripping him entirely of his clothes.
Worse yet, she greedily took possession of Al's most vital and sensitive weapon, swallowing it into her mouth, unwilling to let go.
Her lips struggled to wrap around the thick girth of the Spear of the Chosen, her throat pulsing rhythmically as she sucked.
Fortunately, to accommodate her massive centaur physique, the command tent was built much higher than usual, otherwise, Al's head would have surely hit the roof in this position.
Her red lips seemed slightly scorched by the intense heat of his member, looking moist and ravishing.
Al sat perched on her human arm, his hands gently holding his adoptive mother's head, looking down as their gazes locked.
There was no need for words; Alina was the person closest to Al, second only to the Goat Mom.
In fact, the Goat Mom was once merely a supplement for what Alina lacked, only gradually gaining an independent identity in Al's heart, yet still inextricably linked to the centaur.
Between Al and Alina, everything was understood without a sound.
Even the widow, who had been trained and developed so well and possessed a gentle personality—
capable of tolerating all of the boy's outrageous requests—could currently only share a heart-to-heart connection with Al in the bedroom.
Only the centaur girl shared that kind of synchronicity where she didn't need to be told what Al was thinking to immediately understand.
It was the kind of rapport where "if you twitch your butt, she knows exactly what kind of shit you're about to take."
The two remained busy for a while longer until the centaur girl finished her task.
She slowly and gently released his member from her red lips, leaving it coated in a glistening layer of saliva.
After her meticulous care, the Spear of the Chosen stood proudly in the air, its dimensions looking exceptionally majestic compared to the boy's body.
Alina lowered her head, performing a few final ministrations before pulling him into a tight hug.
Al skillfully took one of her breasts into his mouth, waiting like a nursing infant for her next move.
She leaned over, grabbing a fallen surcoat from the ground with a flourish and draping it over her shoulders.
Then, she whispered to her adoptive son, "Let's go for a walk outside."
Al didn't speak, simply nodding perfunctorily while still biting her nipple.
Alina adjusted the surcoat properly; it was a long, wide garment sewn by the skillful goat girls as loose loungewear.
When worn on the outside, she could go completely naked underneath, with the fabric of the horse-half reaching down to her shins.
It was incredibly loose, the kind that could hide several people Al's size.
The naked Al tried to struggle out of her arms, intending to pick up his own clothes to change.
In a blitz operation like this, he naturally hadn't brought any maids to serve him, so aside from the elite combatants—the centaur, the Paladin, and his scions—he hadn't brought a single female.
However, to his surprise, Alina grabbed his hand.
That beautiful face—which he had looked at and used for so long, and which had displayed an ahegao expression countless times—shook her head at him.
She then reached out and pulled the naked boy back into her arms.
Alina lifted the hem of her surcoat, gesturing for Al to crawl inside.
Al was confused at first but followed her instructions, ducking under the garment like a child playing hide-and-seek behind a curtain, standing flush against her skin.
Then, Alina gently turned her body, using the strength of her arms to shift Al to her front, between her forehooves.
She leaned down, hoisting the boy up and holding him against her human torso, completely hidden behind the barrier of the surcoat.
"Hold onto me," his adoptive mother whispered, her tone carrying an undeniable authority.
Bewildered, Al instinctively reached out and wrapped his arms around the centaur's back, his legs hooking around her human waist where it joined the equine body.
The centaur reached for a very loose cloak from the bed—something she'd had the goat girls sew long ago.
She had intended to use it earlier, but the Greenskin attack and Al's immersion in military affairs had robbed her of the chance until now.
She threw it on and fastened it.
Now, she looked like a beautiful, heroic, and noble centaur lady preparing for a spring outing.
Fully concealed like this, no one could tell that under the massive surcoat, the centaur was wearing nothing at all.
Nor could anyone tell that pressed tightly against Alina's human chest was a completely naked little boy!
She moved her four hooves and walked toward the tent exit.
With every step, she suppressed the traces of their prior lust.
By the time she pushed aside the curtain, she had returned to being the awe-inspiring, arrogant centaur queen, the second core of the tribe, the Chosen of the Bloodmother, and the adoptive mother of the Everchosen.
Under the dual status of Al and the centaur, not even the most acute mage could hope to see through her clothes.
No one could see that upon her athletic, erotic human flesh, a naked Al was pressed heart-to-heart, clinging to her in intimate union!
The moment Alina started walking, Al realized exactly what his adoptive mother was up to.
He wanted to stop her, but she moved too fast, and he left the tent before he could even find his voice.
The boy's face flushed crimson instantly.
Even though he had tried all sorts of games with his harem—even dragging the widow to a busy part of camp to fuck in a tent for a "semi-outdoor play"—
being the one who was naked, stripped of all protection, and completely submissive was a first!
Al's body began to heat up. Though he knew it was an illusion, his limbs felt weak.
This was especially true when he heard the voices of Misha and Hera greeting the centaur girl.
He desperately wanted her to turn back; inside the tent, with his barriers up, they could play however they wanted.
But now, he could only grit his teeth, terrified of making a single sound that might alert Misha and the others.
There was no doubt Al was a lecher, and his scions never viewed it as a stain on his glorious sun-like image, nor did he hide it.
However, Al's thoughts were still influenced by his past life; he still pursued a small sense of "stern father" and "paternal dignity," almost like a form of cosplay.
If he was caught in this kind of "outdoor exposure and reverse control" play with his adoptive mother...
If his eldest daughter found out...
His dignity as a "Little Father" would be completely finished!
Al was incredibly nervous. Simultaneously, a thrill he had never experienced before was quietly prying open his heart.
The most obvious manifestation was that his limbs clamped around the centaur girl even tighter.
He made sure his grip was firm so his legs wouldn't go soft and cause him to fall out and be seen.
Furthermore, having been awakened by her earlier, Al's spear became even more excited.
Regrettably, there was no room to use it yet; it was crushed between his body and Alina's.
Sensing the changes in her adoptive son's body through their current close contact, the centaur's lips curled into a slight smile.
She made no effort to hide as she walked alone toward the outskirts of the city.
The guards were ordered not to follow.
Only the Griffon Empress, perched outside the tent, flapped her wings and soared into the sky to follow the centaur's tracks.
Misha and the wolf-girl entered the tent, only to find their little father's silhouette suddenly gone.
The two daughters—one large, one small—who still knew little of such matters, stared at each other in a daze inside the empty tent.
"Where is Father?"