☆、(8 Fresh Coins) The Sigh of the Rose (13)
Clearly, to those behind him, his actions were equivalent to the latter—Calvin growled, gripping his waist with both hands, thrusting the hot wedge buried inside him wildly, his words tumbling out incoherently: "Ah...Adam...don't move...I can't take it...uh...it feels so good..."
The only answer he received was the man's wet moans, the tight, swaying waist twisting like a bewitching flower, tightly binding the elf's entire body. He pressed the man down onto the bed, his head bowed in ecstasy, kissing the man's bare back. The soft, warm inner walls contracted in waves, making him tremble. He held his breath, his hips thrashing wildly, until finally, he ejaculated—for what seemed like the umpteenth time.
The inner walls, already filled with white fluid, felt another round of ejaculation. The man, pinned beneath him, groaned unconsciously a few times, his lower body twitching slightly from the pain of too many orgasms, but he didn't release a single drop of fluid. Then, he silently sank into darkness. Even as a knight renowned for his martial arts skills, it was impossible to maintain stamina during such intense and prolonged sexual activity, especially since it was his first time.
Realizing the man beneath him had lost consciousness, Calvin stared blankly at his tightly closed eyes, furrowed brows, sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips—all exuding an alluring charm. A tingling sensation ran through him again, and he couldn't resist lowering his head to kiss those soft, moist lips, caressing them passionately for a while before reluctantly lifting himself up and slowly withdrawing his penis, which had been inside the man for most of the night. A large amount of white fluid gushed from the gaping opening, soaking the sheets beneath them even more. Calvin's eyes widened, and his recently ejaculated member stirred again. However, looking at the man's sleeping face, he sighed, carefully picked him up, and carried him to the hot spring in the backyard.
He washed the man's body as quietly as possible, then quickly cleaned himself. By the time he carried the man back to the room, it was already dawn. Standing by the window, watching the sun rise halfway through its rays, he gently waved his hand, and the castle once again fell silent in the starlight. The person in bed needed rest, and he didn't want the outside noise to disturb him. He then slowly walked back to the bedside, quietly lay down, took the man's hand in his, and stroked the thick calluses from sword practice. He then peacefully drifted off to sleep.
Awakening from his deep sleep, Adam struggled to open his eyes, his mind hazy, unable to process what was happening. A large, soft bed, surrounded by delicate, supple vines that intertwined to form a strange yet beautiful canopy—this wasn't his bed! Where was he? Startled, he reflexively tried to sit up in a defensive posture, but the moment he moved, his body protested; his limbs ached terribly, and his lower body felt as if it didn't belong to him, completely immobile.
"Ah, you're awake!" A pair of hands quickly pressed down on his shoulders, accompanied by a clear and pleasant voice—it sounded like a... young man? That voice seemed so familiar...
Adam turned his head in a daze, and the face that appeared before him nearly made his heart stop. Calvin… He instantly remembered everything that had happened yesterday. Including those complicated memories of his past life, including the elf's face that was sometimes sorrowful and sometimes joyful, including those affectionate calls—his face slowly turned red uncontrollably, until it looked as if it was about to bleed.
"What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Calvin frowned worriedly, turning to press his forehead against Calvin's. "Do you have a fever?"
That stunningly beautiful face suddenly drew close. Adam instinctively tried to dodge, but the other person held him tightly by the shoulder and back, forcing him into a close encounter. He could only manage to say, "I don't have a fever."
Calvin checked the man's temperature and found he didn't have a fever as he'd feared, which relieved him slightly, but he didn't loosen his arms around the man's shoulders and back. He gazed intently at the man before him, and after a long while, finally sighed softly, "It's a bit late to say this now, but I still have to say it, I'm sorry, I was so mean to you..."
He kept saying sorry, but he still didn't let go of the man. He even turned his head to kiss the man's soft earlobe, his voice growing softer and softer: "But I really... can't control myself..."
Adam listened quietly, without interrupting. The feeling of being so eagerly sought after by this person… was strange. As the Emperor's Holy Knight, his sole duty was to be loyal to the monarch and not to associate too closely with anyone else. He knew all too well that the Emperor didn't need Adam Scylla, but rather the "First Holy Knight of the Empire." The person before him was the first to need "Adam" as a person—though perhaps even more so the "Adam" of the past. In fact, even when he was Adam Cozmo, the only person who truly needed him was Calvin. Others needed him more as the "leader of the revolutionary army, the new Emperor of the Empire." A little thought revealed that if he had waited for his lover for so many years, he absolutely wouldn't have been able to control himself.
Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh on this person. Struggling to open his eyes wide, he slowly raised his hand and pressed it against the other's slender nape: "Stop talking nonsense, I'm not blaming you."
Author's Note:
I'm back (half-dead). Writing on my phone is too much of a hassle!
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