* * *
Creak, creak—
“Haai… Haima…! Haimar, nngh, stop! I can’t… anymore!”
It was long past dawn.
The room was thick with the scent of sex and heated air, and Ben had long since given up counting how many times he’d come.
His cock, now only leaking thin fluid, had soaked both his stomach and the bedsheets.
Each time Haima’s cock thrust in and out, the overflowing cum he’d already poured inside spilled from Ben’s hole in wet, sticky streams.
Every time their sweaty skin slapped together, a lewd, soaked sound echoed through the room.
Ben’s body had gone limp, swaying helplessly to the rhythm of Haimar’s movements.
“I haven’t come yet.”
Monster…! This man was a monster in every sense of the word.
While Ben had lost count of how many times he climaxed, Haimar had only ejaculated a handful of times.
At some point, Ben began to wonder if maybe he was the one finishing too quickly—but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he was entirely average.
Haimar either had incredible stamina, or some other monstrous trait that made this possible.
Whatever the reason, Ben was now on the verge of tears, begging him to stop.
“S-Stop, I want to… ngh… stop…!”
His eyes were red and swollen from tears, lips and nipples puffy and oversensitive from all the intense attention.
Just a brush sent shocks through him.
His body, too, was covered in marks from Haimar, red and bruised in a chaotic mess.
If Ben’s body had once been a blank canvas, then Haimar had left it as the proud masterpiece of a passionate painter.
Thrust—
“Hhgh!”
Even after hours of being pounded, the sensation of Haimar slamming into his prostate was just as sharp and overwhelming as the first time.
At some point, they’d shifted positions to face each other again.
Ben’s thighs trembled, and instinctively, he reached out with both arms to cling to Haimar.
The bandage on his injured hand had mostly unraveled, hanging loosely along his arm and shoulder after the prolonged sex.
His left arm ached faintly, but the waves of pleasure easily buried the pain.
“Your arm’s hurt.”
Even in the haze of heat and lust, Haimar noticed Ben’s injury and lowered his body to prevent Ben from putting strain on it.
And yet, his fingers still lightly scratched over the swollen, ruined entrance that continued to leak and twitch.
It wasn’t to tease—he simply liked the way Ben tilted his head back and cried when he did.
“It’s… too much—hii! Stop! Huhh! Ngh! Ah!”
Ben had once confidently listed stamina as one of his strengths, but now he was close to breaking.
Was sex always this physically demanding?
His body, his mind—it all felt distant.
When he finally managed to speak through the haze, Haimar answered by sealing their lips together.
Their kiss felt like an oasis in the desert.
Their mixed saliva overflowed, and Ben gulped it down desperately.
He’d kissed others before—this wasn’t his first time—but something about kissing this man was uniquely stimulating, even addictive.
Maybe it was because they were a Guide and Esper.
That fleeting thought was quickly buried under a new wave of pleasure surging through his foggy mind.
“Haaah…”
Ben’s moan never even made it past his lips—Haimar swallowed it whole.
As their bodies moved, their lips would sometimes slip, teeth clashing, or biting by accident.
Just like Ben had bit Haimar earlier, Haimar must have done the same—his lips stung.
But with his head spinning, Ben could only cry with a scrunched-up face.
Thrust, thrust—
The deep, pounding thrusts made Ben’s whole body jolt.
He’d pleaded, over and over, that he couldn’t take it anymore—but Haimar wouldn’t listen.
At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if he actually died like this.
“Hggh!”
Finally, just as he was being mercilessly rocked in rhythm, he felt another hot release spreading deep inside, sending shudders through his insides—and with that, Ben’s mind completely blanked out.
∗ ∗ ∗
Oh my god.
Ben Plaskun had always been a heavy sleeper in the morning, but not being able to move at all after waking up?
That was a first since he started working.
…He really couldn’t move.
His eyelids, puffy and heavy, blinked slowly against the blinding light spilling in from under the blinds.
Wrapped tightly in the warm covers, his whole body surrendered to the bed—it felt unbelievably cozy and safe.
That is, until he tried moving even a finger.
His body throbbed like he’d been beaten black and blue, and he still felt uncomfortably open down there.
“Uugh…”
Dragging his sore arm, he barely managed to sit up halfway—and a groan slipped out on its own.
The ache, the exhaustion, and the vivid memory of the previous night’s relentless lovemaking all came rushing back.
The flashbacks were so clear that his face heated up instantly.
Shaking his head wildly to chase the thoughts away, he suddenly noticed—the bedsheets, once soaked in fluids, and even between his legs, were now clean and dry.
He figured Haimar must’ve cleaned him up after—but thinking about that too much just made him feel embarrassed, so he forced himself to drop it.
Ugh.
Just shifting his sore body a little sent sharp pains shooting below his waist.
Honestly, he wanted to flop back into bed and never move again.
But then—he saw him.
There, loosely curled under the same blanket, was Haimar, asleep.
Ben forgot all about his exhaustion.
He held his breath.
He’s… sleeping.
I’ve never seen him asleep before.
Sunlight danced across his long platinum lashes.
His straight nose and graceful jawline looked like something out of a painting.
Ben stared, momentarily dazed, even though it was a face he saw every day.
To think this man could look so… gentle.
Yes, he was beautiful—but it wasn’t just that.
Watching him sleep so peacefully stirred something strange in Ben.
Hard to describe, but his chest felt heavier, almost tight.
Maybe it was because sleep was the one time people were truly defenseless—and seeing that unfamiliar vulnerability brought a strange wave of emotion.
On impulse, Ben reached out to touch the soft waves of platinum hair.
It slid easily through his fingers, silky and warm.
For someone so sensitive to movement, it was almost unbelievable—Haimar didn’t even flinch, only continued breathing softly in his sleep.
Ben’s fingers wandered, brushing the strands aside and trailing down toward his ear.
Since he was asleep, Ben didn’t want to touch him too roughly.
He just lightly fiddled with the rim of his ear and gave the control device hanging there a little tap.
As he did, a sensation similar to what he had felt yesterday coiled around his fingertips.
“…Ah, I can feel it.”
His voice, barely squeezed out, was hoarse—probably from all the crying yesterday—but Ben focused his attention on the hand touching Haimar.
If yesterday had been full of muddled, murky sensations, today felt clearer, as if something had been filtered out.
Still, it was only better in comparison—it wasn’t as though it could instantly make up for the deep emptiness that had built up over time.
“……”
As Ben gently brushed aside Haimar’s hair and touched his ear, briefly lost in thought, Haimar’s eyes slowly opened.
Their watery, transparent blue still clouded with sleep met Ben’s gaze, and for a second, he hesitated, thinking he might’ve woken him unnecessarily.
“Sorry for waking you.”
Instead of replying, Haimar’s half-lidded eyes found Ben’s form beside him, as if confirming what he already knew, then quietly closed again.
The gesture—like he needed to double-check who was there—made Ben feel strangely affected.
Awkwardly, he started to pull his hand back, but Haimar lightly wrapped his fingers around Ben’s and tugged gently.
“…Sleep a bit more.”
The low, husky voice—deeper than usual in the morning—rippled softly like a whisper, and it was enough to make even his nonexistent drowsiness come creeping back.
Ben had no reason to refuse.
Haimar clearly had no intention of getting up, and judging from the state of his own body, Ben doubted he could even make it far beyond the bed.
And there was one more decisive reason not to reject the suggestion—today was the weekend.
Sleeping in was practically a weekend privilege.
If it had been a weekday, this could have been a disaster, but since it wasn’t, he decided to let it go.
“In that case, I won’t hold back.”
Pulled by Haimar’s hand, Ben let himself sink into the soft mattress.
As always, the crisp feeling of the sun-drenched, thoroughly dried sheets was comforting.
Wrapped up in the blankets, eyes closed, enjoying the soft sensation against his cheek, he heard a quiet chuckle from above.
“…Why are you laughing?”
“You heard that?”
Even without opening his eyes, Ben could easily picture the corner of Haimar’s mouth curving up in that familiar way.
Responding with a grumble, he was met with that same low voice again—still pleasant to hear, and somehow playful, despite the calm and contentment in it.
How could he still sound mischievous even now?
Feeling slightly irked, Ben subtly tried to slip his hand out of Haimar’s grip.
But of course, Haimar didn’t budge.
Acting like it hadn’t been intentional, Ben gave up quickly.
Come to think of it, Haimar might already be fully awake, just pretending to be asleep.
There was a time when the thought of someone being next to him while he alone slept would have made him anxious.
But now, the solid presence at his side didn’t feel unfamiliar at all.
Maybe it was the sluggishness in his body, but now he even felt like he might miss this if no one was there.
It felt like just yesterday when the vast, empty bed had made him uneasy, and sleeping alone was second nature.
What would Haimar think about all this?
Even as drowsiness crept back in, Ben found himself wondering.
But soon enough, sleep overtook him for real, and he let himself drift away peacefully.
* * *
