* * *
As I chased pleasure, moving harder and more desperately, Batista’s chest quivered with each thrust.
The stiff, rosy nipples peeking between his fingers shook lewdly.
“I-it feels so good… Ahn, s-so good…”
The lewd sight of Batista before my eyes, the soft yet firm texture of his body against mine—everything about him entices me.
I’m swept up in a pleasure so intense it feels like I might melt, overwhelmed by the heat surging through me.
“Ngh…!”
Lost in a daze, I tease Batista’s chest until I finally come.
My mind goes blank. It doesn’t feel real.
Even afterward, my senses don’t return right away, leaving me blinking hazily as lingering pleasure pulses through me.
It’s only when Batista lets go of his chest and wipes his cheek that I snap back to reality.
‘Am… am I insane?’
Did I really just come on Batista’s face?
Even if I was out of my mind, how could I do something like that?!
As my rationality returns, the scene before me sharpens into clarity.
It’s unbelievable, but it’s real.
Batista’s handsome face is streaked with streaks of milky white.
Against his dark skin, the contrast is stark—undeniable, no matter how much I wish it weren’t.
After he’d generously let me have his chest, I had the audacity to finish on his face?!
Why do I keep making mistakes like this?!
I curse myself, but I can’t tear my eyes away from Batista’s face.
There’s something undeniably thrilling about seeing the face of a man nobler and more valiant than anyone else tainted like this.
Especially since his usual expression is so disciplined—now, paradoxically, he looks utterly debauched, marked by the evidence of his own arousal.
Desire coils hot in my gut again.
No, snap out of it! Don’t be rude to Sir Batista anymore, please.
“S-sorry! I’ll clean it up right away!”
I have to fix this before Batista does it himself.
I grab his wrist, stopping him from wiping his cheek, and use my own hand to wipe away the streaks of cum.
How did I even release this much?
Pale droplets cling to his handsome violet brows, and his sharp nose bridge is smeared with cloudy fluid.
Batista closes his eyes and waits in silence as I clean him, almost as if he’s enjoying my touch—which sends a strange flutter through me.
He’s not even mad that I came on his face…
What kind of person is this forgiving?
Or does he like me enough that this doesn’t bother him?
Out of all the people out there… me?
Maybe Batista’s tastes are a little weird.
After all the disrespectful things I’ve done, how could he still like me?
“All done.”
I pull my hand away after wiping him clean.
Just as I start to retreat, his handsome face suddenly moves closer.
Even now, with all traces of cum gone, his usual striking features carry an unexpectedly sensual air.
It’s probably because of the unmistakable expectation in Batista’s eyes—a gaze brimming with raw desire.
Demanding more…
His damp lips press against mine, and my body shudders without my control.
“Satisfied?”
“…Completely. Best ever.”
Embarrassing as it is, I answer honestly.
I’m overwhelmingly grateful to Batista for indulging me so thoroughly.
“Then satisfy me now.”
“Yeah!”
I’ll serve him well.
Without another word, Batista casually spreads his legs.
Even that simple motion feels obscenely erotic now, making my heartbeat quicken.
His thick, magnificent cock stands fully erect, proudly displaying just how aroused he is—and the sight fills me with joy.
The hole I’d eagerly sucked and licked is still slick with saliva, glistening wetly.
My fingers, sticky with gathered cum, slide in easily.
His inner walls clench tight around the intrusion before slowly relaxing—a sign that he’s ready.
“Hah…!”
When I curl my finger and scrape his inner walls, he reacts instantly.
So cute. I add a second finger, pushing in deeper at a leisurely pace until I’m fully inside.
Then I rub the spot I remember, teasing it with my fingertips.
“Nh—ah!”
The moment I hit his prostate, his hips jerk uncontrollably, but his moan is cut off—Batista quickly covers his own mouth.
I wanted to hear it…
What a waste.
It was clear evidence that Batista was enjoying himself.
Cute, too.
The first time we did it, he wasn’t like this, but ever since, he’s been trying to hold back his moans—probably out of embarrassment.
What a shame.
I mustered a little courage.
“Can’t you… not cover your mouth?”
Batista answered with his hand still over his lips.
“No.”
So firm!
There wasn’t even a moment for hope—his reply was instant. He has no problem baring his chest, but letting his moans escape is embarrassing?
I don’t get his standards.
He covered his mouth again right away.
I’d secretly hoped to see more of his uninhibited side, so it was disappointing.
But what could I do?
If Batista said no, then that was that.
He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with, so I’d just have to rely on his body’s reactions.
His sensitive physique responded keenly to every touch, after all.
“…….”
Maybe my disappointment showed on my face.
Batista, who had been staring at me silently, suddenly shifted and lifted the pillow, rummaging around near the headboard.
I pulled my hand back, curious, and waited.
Then he tossed me a small bottle.
I caught it reflexively and saw a viscous, translucent gel sloshing sluggishly inside.
This was… lube.
And judging by how only half was left, it had already been used.
‘……By who?’
For a second, I felt stupid.
Who else?
It came from Batista’s bedside—of course he was the one who used it!
He’d admitted to touching himself while thinking about me, so it had to be him!
Even though I’d already heard about it, seeing physical evidence made it feel too real.
My heart pounded erratically, refusing to calm down.
Damn it, this was way too hot!
Just imagining Batista awkwardly squeezing lube onto his fingers and pushing them inside made my mouth go dry.
He’d mentioned playing with his chest, but never said anything about fingering himself.
But would he really have used half the bottle just for his front?
Had he touched himself there too while thinking of me? How many fingers had he used?
Batista’s hands were bigger than mine, his fingers thicker—maybe they didn’t slide in as easily as mine did.
And he’d probably been clumsy with it too.
Was that why he’d used so much?
The mental image of Batista desperately fingering himself flooded my mind, driving me insane.
Get a grip!
“Hey… you used this, right?”
I should’ve kept my cool, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
Just how far was I going to let my instincts take over?
“Yeah.”
Batista answered calmly.
“It wouldn’t go in without it.”
“…….”
So… you did put them in.
That’s what happened.
While we were apart, you got so desperate you fingered yourself.
Batista said it so casually, but to me, it was a bombshell.
Because of me, Batista was now touching that place when he masturbated, not just his cock…
How did things even get like this…?
* * *
