Ranshel hugged the upper body that had entered between his spread legs and thirstily kissed his lips.
Zavad narrowed his eyes and responded while vigorously moving his waist.
“Ah, ha-eup, heut, uung…”
The moans that were being scattered without knowing shame now all flowed into his mouth.
Ranshel let out suppressed sounds at the tongue scouring his mouth.
And as they headed toward the climax, he rubbed his back against the bed that was rattling and shaking, wrapped both legs around Zavad’s waist, and wiggled his buttocks.
“Heup, eu-eut, ha-uup…!”
From the tip of the penis, which didn’t know how many times it had ejaculated while giving its rear to him, a stream of thin semen burst out.
As the inner walls trembled in response, Zavad’s brow furrowed deeply.
He pushed his waist deep into the secret wrinkles that were sucking his penis like a suction cup.
Thud!
The penis that had buried its head all the way into the inner wall stopped moving for a moment.
Tension went into his solid abs, and soon hot ejaculate was sprayed into the body.
Ranshel panted greedily with his mouth wide open at the heat dumped inside him.
Instead of the penis that no longer stood properly and was limp, his head was tilted back fully and his body stiffened.
The hole, tightening hard under his deeply arched waist, chewed on the penis pouring semen into him.
Zavad, with his brow furrowed, poured all the liquid gathered inside the glans into the hole that was squeezing his penis as if to burst it.
This alone was due to the hole that squeezed and dried his cock regardless of his intention.
Ranshel curled his toes, feeling the hot liquid filling his bottom so much that he worried his lower abdomen might swell slightly.
After Zavad lightly shook his lower back, he lightly overlapped his body, not putting weight on it so as not to crush Ranshel.
Ranshel rubbed his cheek against Zavad’s cheek and caught his ragged breath.
As more time passed and the heat that had scorched his whole body gradually subsided, a sense of exhaustion rose throughout his body as if he had collapsed after running without stopping.
Ranshel, whose whole body was limp, blinked and suddenly turned his gaze to Zavad’s forehead.
More precisely, he quietly watched the sweat drop hanging on the high bridge of his nose after passing his forehead.
Zavad’s sturdy ribcage rose greatly as he exhaled, and a sweat drop soaking the smooth skin rolled down.
“…See, it’s different…”
“…What?”
Ranshel moved his body, which had no strength left at all, and stretched his head up to lick the sweat on the side of Zavad’s nose with the tip of his tongue.
Zavad’s red eyes glinted fiercely, but it wasn’t seen by Ranshel’s gaze as he lowered his lips to lick his damp nape.
Ranshel whispered, savoring the salty taste remaining on the tip of his tongue.
“…This is entirely mine.”
“…”
“I’m the only one seeing this…”
So how could it be the same as the sweat from finishing training?
Ranshel laughed playfully, but Zavad couldn’t even manage a light laugh and pressed his lips to Ranshel’s ear with a hardened face.
“Yeah. It’s yours.”
“Uung…”
“This is all something I… gave to you.”
A moist tongue-tip pushed in where the low-muttered voice had passed.
Ranshel naturally felt strength in his lower abdomen at the touch of the hot tongue licking his earlobe and digging into his ear.
The penis, which no longer stood firmly because he had ejaculated so much, formed a thin liquid at the tip while soft.
And before long, unlike Ranshel’s, a penis that had become as hard as an iron rod began to poke the hole that was messy with semen.
The sound of the soft membrane being soaked and sticking stickily echoed loudly.
Ranshel had no choice but to be shaken violently up and down while hugging the back that now completely covered him.
These were days truly stained with carnal desire.
There was no substitute for experience; once two people who were already quick learners set their minds to it, their clumsy movements grew so skillful that they no longer looked like beginners.
In their instinctive hunger, they frequently tore clothes and left red marks on each other’s backs, but they now knew how to touch and where to press to stir arousal and dampness better than they knew their own bodies.
Kissing became a faster reflex than meeting eyes.
They laundered the sheets daily and eventually had to order several new sets of bedding.
To push away the deepening sense of unease, Ranshel abandoned his entire body to Zavad’s embrace, reaching out his hands and spreading his legs.
Though he once briefly wished Zavad would push him away, Zavad never hesitated to take Ranshel’s hand, lift him up, and offer the warmth of his chest.
Because they were so constantly entwined, Ranshel felt as if his own heart could stop and he could live on through Zavad’s heartbeat instead.
He lacked the courage to push away these sweet moments.
He focused only on filling his lungs with Zavad’s breath as if it were his own—as if this were the only task he had left. Everything else, he buried. He erased it.
Zavad seemed to have made a resolution of his own. Ranshel was still officially his personal servant, but Zavad left the title as a mere formality while effectively stripping him of all duties.
At some point, other people began handling the household chores, and when Ranshel came to his senses, he found himself in a position where he didn’t have to lift a single finger.
Because they spent the nights sweating together, Ranshel often didn’t wake until midday.
When he finally rose from his long slumber, rich food at the perfect temperature would be waiting in front of his door.
After finishing his meals, a different kind of dessert—the ones he had enjoyed at Bershel’s mansion—was prepared every day.
The bookshelves in the room, once filled with thick hymnals of difficult prose, were now packed with easy-to-read, entertaining novels.
Whenever he returned from the training grounds to see Zavad, a clean room greeted him.
Rumpled bedding and clothes with torn buttons were replaced with new ones.
It was clear there were people looking after the house, yet the fact that he never saw their faces suggested they were under specific orders from Zavad.
Even Hans frequently took Petro out, staying away from the mansion as if intentionally leaving it vacant.
Ranshel was still Zavad’s servant, but based on his treatment, he had transformed into something else entirely that happened to share the name.
Ranshel didn’t try to define it.
He emptied his brain as if he had intentionally become a fool and clung to the body heat that burned his skin through the night.
However, Zavad didn’t seem content with silence.
While he wore the engagement ring matched with Frey during official schedules, he would carelessly toss it aside the moment he returned to the mansion.
Ranshel would often find and pick up the ring rolling on the floor, and every time Zavad saw the ring returned to the table, he clicked his tongue as if a cursed doll had found its way back.
It happened just after they had shared an intense intimacy, as they often did.
Ranshel was sprawled face down on the bed, letting the sweat dry on his naked body.
Relaxed and heavy with the dull ache in his waist and an equal measure of satisfaction, he poked his head up when he felt a hand stroking his left hand.
“The skin is all torn here.”
Zavad spoke as he rubbed the delicate skin between Ranshel’s fingers.
“That happens when you work.”
“Your knuckles are hardened, too.”
“It’s bound to be that way. I’ve done a lot of odd jobs.”
In truth, the marks on Ranshel’s hands were mostly from assassination training, but Zavad had no way of knowing that if Ranshel blamed it on a servant’s duties.
