Chapter 1257

The two of them collapsed onto the bed, tangled as one. The weight pressing down should’ve been suffocating, but Yuder only tightened his grip—his thighs and heels locking harder around Kishiar’s waist. Responding to that wordless call, Kishiar gladly draped his entire body over Yuder like a coiling serpent.

“Ugh—hah, ngh, ah—ah...”

Beneath the dim lamplight, their shadow—merged into one—jerked violently up and down. Kishiar’s broad, tense back and arms, swollen with arousal, completely enveloped the form beneath him. All that could be seen of Yuder Aile’s body was the barest flicker of his trembling toes in the flickering silhouette.

No one—

Not even the flames—

Could see what face Yuder wore, what expression accompanied his moans. Not a single sound he made could escape this room. A subtle use of magic and ability had long since sealed it all tightly.

No one, save for Kishiar—who had been granted the right to comfort him—was allowed to approach this space.

“I promised I’d let you rest in pleasure... so I’d better make it worth choosing me.”

Fortunately, Kishiar had complete confidence in his ability to do just that.

He didn’t bother to hide his feelings. His usual picture-perfect smile was nowhere to be found; instead, a beast’s grin—hungry and sincere—curved across his lips. And Yuder liked that smile, too.

The less Kishiar concealed his desire, the more Yuder’s dark gaze fixated on him, dazed and unwavering. As if seeing Kishiar want him so honestly was some miraculous dream he'd waited his whole life to witness. In those blurry, black eyes, pleasure and joy blended together with each panting breath.

“Ah...!”

Yuder’s abdomen shuddered and grew wet once more. Their hips, clashing like mating beasts, convulsed up and down before losing tension. His thighs, once tightly wrapped around Kishiar’s waist, fell limp. The heaving of his chest suggested he was starting to tire—but that didn’t mean Kishiar intended to stop.

The body's reactions and the mind’s satisfaction were separate matters. Yuder’s stamina was high; this much wasn’t enough to wear him out. Inside, he was still tightening and releasing around Kishiar's length, as if testing what filled him and drawing out its identity for himself.

Bracing one arm beside the spread black hair on the sheet, Kishiar leaned in to lick Yuder’s ear. His lips brushed below it, then nipped the lobe before slipping his tongue into the small, delicate hole—too secretive and pretty to be just for hearing. He licked every inch he could reach, and Yuder, with his sensitive ears, twisted away and swallowed a breath. Kishiar didn’t ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ miss it, following after him, catching a carelessly sprawled leg and lifting it lightly.

Their position flipped in an instant.

“Ugh!”

The way his length slid and twisted inside, rubbing against the inner walls with devastating friction, made Yuder arch his neck with a choked cry. Kishiar’s back muscles bulged as he gripped Yuder’s leg, his whole body coiled with barely-contained force. But he exhaled deeply through his nose, forcing control back into himself.

Yielding to pleasure without being consumed by it—was far from easy. Even after years of harsh training, sweat trickled down Kishiar’s temples and spine. Yuder was the same; his knuckles bulged as he gripped Kishiar’s forearm with bone-deep pressure.

Then, once again, the bed began to shake violently.

Each thrust felt like it could break his breath, like it would shatter reason itself—not with pain, but with overwhelming pleasure. Eyes narrowing, Kishiar sought that invisible point of connection.

The scent, the mark flowing from Yuder’s body told him how much he was enjoying it—how satisfied he was.

Seeing the faintly upturned corners of his lips, Kishiar couldn’t hold back. He slipped away from the ear he’d been sucking and moved to kiss him. The position made it difficult, awkward—but the desire wouldn’t be denied.

He pulled the leg in tighter, twisting their bodies. Their lips clashed, teeth scraping, but still he managed to bite down on Yuder’s lower lip and suck. When their tongues tangled, Yuder reached up, fingers threading into Kishiar’s hair. That small touch alone sent Kishiar spiraling into climax.

Yuder, his red eyes fluttering faintly, brought his hand down to touch where their bodies met. Finding it fully joined—nothing left outside—his gaze grew heavy with the satisfied look of a well-fed beast. His fingers slid through their tangled pubic hair, up Kishiar’s stomach and chest, then down again. He swept his slick lower abdomen, pressing somewhere specific—not out of lust, but as if confirming where Kishiar was lodged deep inside him.

And that sight—it sent a sharper jolt of arousal through Kishiar than any temptation ever could.

He pushed his fingers between Yuder’s and laced them tight. Gripping his hand against the bed, Kishiar thrust upward once more. The pleasure of striking so deep in a single stroke drew a low, broken moan from Yuder.

“Ahh... it feels... good...”

When they're completely consumed by pleasure, both of them communicate more with their bodies and scents than with words. They’d long since learned that was faster, more honest. But when Yuder reached the limit—when his mental locks snapped—he'd sometimes start letting words fall from his lips, without even realizing.

Words not chosen by thought, but spilled over by raw sensation.

Good. More. Faster. Deeper.

And—

“Kishiar...!”

That name, called out as if his brain had caught fire.

Yuder rocked his hips without even realizing who he’d named, or that he had spoken at all. His eyes, wet with pleasure and utterly unfocused, brimmed with nothing but desire for release. His legs opened shamelessly, hands laced with Kishiar’s, fingers grasping as if they’d never let go—calling his lover.

It was the same as how he’d been during rut.

Ah. Yuder.

The vow Kishiar had just made—to give him the best comfort—felt like a lie, because he trembled helplessly.

From the crown of his head to the tips of his toes, he felt ready to melt and explode.

Even if he doubted a thousand, ten thousand times whether he deserved to feel this rapture—the name he just heard wouldn't change.

He wanted him.

The surge overwhelmed him. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. But if it were Yuder, he’d say not to hold it in—just let it out. So he did.

His thrusts grew even faster, even harder. Yuder squirmed beneath him, unable to stop it. Kishiar didn’t let go—he held him close like they were sewn together, driving deeper, further inside, to where Yuder liked it best.

“......!”

The position they started in had long since shifted, again and again, just from the mutual desire to be closer, to touch more.

No matter how he thrust, Yuder’s body trembled like it wanted it all. Kishiar left no part untouched—from the hollows of his wrists and ribs to the one slightly longer toe on his right foot, he tasted everything with his mouth.

At last, when Yuder had been wrung out by pleasure and could barely keep his eyes open, Kishiar knew the end was near. He took a long breath.

“...Haa.”

Yuder’s chest, still tense with lingering sensation, rose and fell with his shallow breaths. Kishiar’s gaze lingered on it, but instead of kissing there, he pulled out from where they were still joined below.

He withdrew slowly, carefully, to keep from overstimulating him. It took time. Fluid that had pooled inside spilled out in a rush down his shaft.

“Nngh... ugh...”

“Did it hurt?”

Yuder whimpered faintly, so Kishiar brushed back his damp hair and asked. With his eyes closed, Yuder shook his head slowly.

No—it wasn’t from pain.

Looks like the fire’s not completely out yet... I should give him time to cool down before cleaning up. Wet sheets feel awful, so I’ll carry him—

His calculating thoughts came to a halt as the body beside him stirred and climbed on top.

Yuder rolled over and collapsed down onto Kishiar’s chest.