* * *
Being touched in a place no one had ever touched before—it was so weird.
There were different kinds of groping, sure, but this slow, deliberate teasing with his tongue had Ben completely cornered.
Even through his half-lidded eyes, Haimar’s damp, flushed face was dangerously alluring.
Until now, Ben had always been relatively indifferent about sex.
Sure, he’d fooled around a bit during puberty, but ever since becoming an adult, he’d rarely even thought about it.
So this one-sided onslaught of deep physical intimacy was overwhelming for his unprepared body.
Danger.
This is dangerous.
If this goes on any longer—it’ll really be bad.
His body was reacting more and more to every touch, every stimulus.
He was honestly a little scared. The last scrap of rationality in his mind was screaming warnings.
As a grown man, he knew what it meant when these sensations stirred down there—it was only a matter of time before he was fully aroused.
He had to break away from Haimar before things went any further, before it got too complicated.
“I-I think… we should stop now.”
His flushed face twitched with every emotion as he tried to push Haimar away.
Not that it did much—Haimar was hardly the kind of guy to be moved easily.
Still, Ben placed his right hand firmly against his chest and pushed as hard as he could.
“Hm? And what if I don’t want to?”
“Y-You said it would just be a kiss…”
“Did I now?”
While retracing the red marks on Ben’s neck with his lips, Haimar’s hand worked quickly, unbuckling Ben’s pants.
And before Ben could even process it, those fingers brushed against the weight growing beneath his underwear.
“W-Wait! Don’t touch me there—!”
Ben panicked for real now, twisting his body to get away.
But with Haimar’s leg wedged tightly between his, escape was impossible—they were practically flush together.
And then Haimar’s fingers wrapped around him, stroking upward.
Ben looked like he could cry.
Men are creatures of instinct, after all.
No guy can stay soft when touched like that, with that kind of intent.
And for Ben—who had never been touched down there by anyone else before—every sensation was amplified to the max.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
Haimar’s mouth, which had been lingering on his neck, now traced his earlobe, nipping and licking as he continued exploring Ben’s sensitive body.
His hand, still gripping Ben, shifted to massage the base, gently rolling his balls, skilled and confident.
And Ben’s body, despite his brain’s protests, responded to the pleasure—his shaft, hardened to the point of aching, sprang free from his half-lowered underwear.
Just inside the waistband of his slightly tugged-down underwear, a faint trail of hair peeked through.
His already glistening cock, dripping with clear fluid, resembled its owner—smooth and tinged a delicate shade of pink.
Though its size was decent enough to have charmed plenty of women, it was utterly useless now, reduced to a plaything in Haimar’s hands.
“S-Stop…! Hah…”
Ben felt like he could drop dead right then and there if someone told him to.
He had already crossed the threshold of shame he could define—this was beyond it.
His body, betraying his mind and reacting so shamelessly, was nothing short of humiliating.
The strange sensations had undeniably twisted into pleasure, his entire body burning under Haimar’s touch.
Clamping his lips shut to stifle the pathetic noises threatening to spill out, Ben could only tense as Haimar’s fingers—now heated from his own body warmth—tightened around his length while the other hand relentlessly teased his nipple.
“Hah… N-No… I d-don’t… want it…”
His half-choked voice was swallowed by Haimar’s lips.
Ben’s body sagged, collapsing against him, while Haimar—licking the glistening saliva from Ben’s lips—looked every bit like a sated predator savoring a feast.
Haimar was particularly fond of Ben’s green eyes, now darkened with moisture, as if he were on the verge of tears.
When he flicked the stiffened tip, fat droplets finally spilled over, rolling down Ben’s cheeks.
He didn’t even seem aware he was crying—just a physiological response—but watching him helplessly surrender to sensation was undeniably satisfying.
And unlike before, when Ben had been delirious with fever, he was now completely sober, feeling every touch with full awareness.
A few things had become clear: despite his indifferent demeanor, his body was far more sensitive than expected.
Even now, just a little attention to his nipples had them stiffening, his back arching at the slightest brush.
“Hah… D-Don’t… do th-that… ngh…!”
But that mouth of his, still spouting denials, wasn’t exactly pleasing.
And the bandages wrapped tightly around the arms clinging to him kept nagging at Haimar’s mind.
Normally, he wouldn’t care if someone lived or died—so why now?
Was it because he had caused these wounds?
Or was it because it was Ben Plaskun?
It wasn’t exactly rational logic, but Haimar found himself accepting it without question.
For someone who meticulously calculated every move, acknowledging such a nonsensical thought should’ve been absurd—yet he did so effortlessly, as if it had always been this way.
Either way, a man who usually had no shortage of words shouldn’t be this flustered, this lost, just from a few honest reactions to his touch.
If Ben tried to avoid him later out of embarrassment again, it’d be a problem.
Even if he’d apologized, Haimar intended to settle this properly now.
‘Hmm… So what should I do?’
With a low murmur against Ben’s ear, Haimar lightly dragged his fingers along the tip, now leaking steadily.
“Are you going to run away again after this?”
“Ah…! D-Don’t… touch… Ngh—I’m gonna… cum…!”
Clutching desperately at Haimar, Ben buried his face in his neck, barely coherent.
He probably couldn’t even process the words, too lost in sensation—not that Haimar cared.
In fact, that was the point.
He just wanted to hear the right answer.
“Answer me. Will you run?”
“Hah! N-No… I-I won’t… ngh…!”
A tongue probing his sensitive ear and the coaxing voice demanding a reply completely unraveled Ben’s mind.
And with Haimar’s grip tightening around his throbbing cock, pushing him to the edge, all he could do was whimper, unable to even beg for release.
“I-I won’t… run… Ah, ngh…!”
So let go already!
With the last shred of his rationality, Ben barely swallowed back his words and tightly gripped the nape of Haimar’s neck, as if urging him on.
Then, the stagnant energy filling Haimar’s body ebbed away like a receding tide, replaced by a clear, refreshing warmth that resembled Ben’s own.
A faint sweetness rose from the lightly bitten collarbone.
And it wasn’t just there—everywhere his lips touched was sweet.
The taste lingered on his tongue, so intense it made him wonder if human bodies were always this saccharine.
Haimar chuckled lowly, reveling in the energy flooding him and the way his body reacted so eagerly to every stimulus, teasing Ben over and over in a mischievous whisper, “Really? You mean it?”
Of course, from Ben’s perspective, it was torture—his lower half was on the verge of collapse, and between the insistent whispers in his ear and the wandering hands touching him everywhere, he was in agony.
But as if determined to sever any remaining reason, the questions kept coming until Ben, tears streaming down his face, finally shook his head frantically in Haimar’s arms.
“Haaah…!”
His voice, thick with tears, turned into a plea for release.
Ben buried his face against Haimar’s chest for a long moment before the relentless stroking and rubbing pushed him over the edge.
“Hah…”
Ben’s hips trembled violently as hot, white liquid spilled into Haimar’s palm.
Even a glance at its thickness was enough to tell just how sexually deprived Ben had been.
Coming in someone else’s hand for the first time, Ben was completely drained.
He slumped against Haima, gasping for air, waiting for his frozen thoughts to slowly return to normal as he tried to calm his body.
“My throat… feels a little dry,” Haimar muttered in a low voice, wiping the sticky fluid off his hand.
Ben, still not fully recovered, remained limp in his grasp, but that only stoked Haimar’s desire further.
Not enough.
The fresh energy flowing through Haimar’s body brushed against his frayed nerves.
Even as the familiar sensation shot down to his toes, it wasn’t cooling—it was like throwing more wood onto a raging fire.
The flames inside him burned fiercer than when they had kissed in Hermannsen, and his instincts, overtaking his ability to reason, demanded more.
If that earlier sensation had been like water springing from a dried-up well, now it was an endless, crashing wave threatening to destroy everything.
More.
More.
An unquenchable thirst burned deep in his throat, testing his restraint.
Let go, a voice whispered, urging him to surrender to the violent tide.
The deeper Ben’s energy seeped into every corner of his body, the shorter the fuse inside him grew.
If just light petting could do this, then surely embracing him here would finally quench the endless thirst he’d carried all his life.
A powerful impulse shook Haimar in that instant.
Ah, so this is how it feels to stand before the Tree of Knowledge, torn between temptation and conscience.
* * *
