Chapter 67

***

It took them roughly two nights to identify the most crucial patterns involved in the detoxification process.

“Ugh… ah…”

The moment they entered the inner chamber adjoining the drawing room, Lucien captured Kosha’s lips. He kissed him fervently, giving the mage no chance to gather his thoughts.

By now, Kosha had grown accustomed to being kissed, but he remained entirely unprepared for the frantic hands stripping him in the middle of it. Lucien peeled away his prized gray robe and let it fall to the floor the instant they crossed the threshold. Kosha had no opportunity to retrieve it. Once the drawstring of his trousers came loose, he lost any remaining presence of mind to worry about a mere garment.

Lucien was breathtakingly fast. He would scramble Kosha’s senses with a kiss, then strip him bare in an instant.

Where on earth did he learn such sophisticated techniques? He must have had countless lovers.

Premarital dalliances were freely permitted regardless of social standing. Among the upper classes, society practically encouraged them, provided no one carelessly produced a child. Given how affectionate and beautiful Lucien was, it seemed only natural that he would have experience.

“Stop thinking.”

Lucien bit down sharply on Kosha’s lower lip.

Jarred back to reality, Kosha realized he wore nothing but his shirt. He could never quite adjust to the hollow, vulnerable sensation of being exposed below the waist. At the same time, the damp fragrance of roses began to permeate the room.

“Ugh… ngh…”

Pulling him closer, Lucien slipped an oil-slick hand between Kosha’s buttocks. The heavy scent of roses came entirely from the lubricant. Apart from their first night together in the outer fortress beyond the city walls, Lucien had used this same oil during every encounter. Perhaps that was why the mere scent of roses now filled Kosha’s mind with indecent thoughts.

“You’re so soft.”

Lucien breathed the observation directly into his ear.

That was hardly surprising. Kosha’s body was already yielding, and they had been having relations every day for the sake of detoxification.

“Did you touch yourself while you were alone?”

“No…”

“No?” A teasing lilt softened Lucien’s voice. “Then why are you so soft?”

Unnecessarily embarrassed, Kosha turned his face away and pressed his cheek against Lucien’s chest. A low chuckle resonated through the prince’s rib cage.

“Sorry.” Lucien’s tone gentled. “I still have to loosen you properly. Otherwise, you’ll get hurt later.”

The first rule of detoxification was simple.

Intercourse could begin before sunset, but ejaculation had to occur after the sun disappeared beneath the horizon. More precisely, climax had to take place after sunset, at the exact moment the mana concealed within Kosha’s body became active.

Ejaculating during the day was completely useless.

They had tested it once by finishing early in the afternoon. The moment the sun set, they had been forced to repeat the entire grueling process with a thoroughly deranged Lucien, making the ordeal twice as intense.

The only fortunate detail was that Kosha’s entrance remained sufficiently damp and softened from the previous session. Had it not been, he feared to imagine what would have become of his lower half. The thought alone made him shudder.

Kosha was a brave man who rarely shed tears, yet the mere recollection of that day left him dizzy enough for his eyes to sting.

The passage grew slick with alarming speed. Lucien applied the oil generously, and Kosha’s body naturally yielded beneath his touch. Two fingers slid in and out, brushing the sensitive inner walls until they began to prickle. Each time the tips grazed one particular spot, a shiver shot straight through Kosha’s core.

His knees drew together as the instinctive urge to curl his toes overtook him. Kosha clutched frantically at Lucien’s arm.

“Your Highness. Not standing.” His voice broke into a plea. “Please, not while standing…”

He desperately wanted to avoid taking Lucien upright. The last time they had tried, matters had become far too volatile.

As Kosha thrashed, Lucien lifted his mouth from the nape of his neck and regarded him with momentary displeasure. Then, gathering him effortlessly into his arms, he hoisted Kosha off the floor.

In that respect, the prince remained surprisingly considerate. As long as he retained his sanity, Lucien never forced Kosha into a position he explicitly refused.

Whether the alternatives he proposed were any better was another matter entirely.

Lucien carried him to the parlor sofa and sat down with a heavy thud. Kosha found himself braced against the man’s thighs, balanced precariously on his knees. His legs naturally spread wide, leaving his rigid, vivid-pink member suspended directly before Lucien.

A sudden wave of shame swept over him.

Kosha reached down to tug the hem of his shirt lower, only for Lucien’s broad palm to swat his buttocks. The blow barely stung, but the sharp slap cracked through the room and deepened his embarrassment.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“…”

“Hold on to my shoulders.”

Lucien rolled Kosha’s shirt upward, baring more of him. He methodically resumed preparing the opening. Experience had taught them that loosening the passage enough to accommodate three fingers was essential if they wanted the act to proceed safely. By then, clear fluid streamed from the tip of Kosha’s member, threatening to stain the front of Lucien’s shirt, yet the prince had not even loosened his belt.

Insertion began just as the sunset beyond the window burned the sky a final, searing red.

When Lucien finally unfastened his belt, his dark, formidable length sprang free. It was thick, blunt, and intimidating, already gleaming with pre-ejaculate.

Kosha could only marvel at the prince’s terrifying composure. Lucien had not so much as blinked while touching him, maintaining perfect discipline throughout.

As always, Lucien used the oil left on his hand from preparing Kosha to slick his own shaft. He removed Kosha’s shirt completely, then positioned him with practiced precision over his member.

The blunt head aligned with the flared opening. Slowly, its massive girth pressed inside, forcing Kosha’s body to stretch around it. His breath caught in his throat.

“It’s all right,” Lucien murmured. “Take your time.”

Being entered from behind always made Kosha more nervous than facing Lucien, likely because he had nothing solid to hold on to. Reading that unease perfectly, Lucien tightened one arm around Kosha’s waist and clasped his hand with the other.

“I, is it in?” Kosha gasped.

They were barely halfway there.

Kosha found himself asking the same question at precisely the same point every time.

Lucien gave no verbal answer. He pressed a hand against Kosha’s lower abdomen and pushed his hips forward.

Kosha bucked violently, scraping his heels against the sofa upholstery. Lucien glanced down to gauge the depth. Barely an inch remained outside. He had clearly struck the exact spot that left the mage incapable of coherent thought.

Driving against that place never failed to draw an astonishingly lewd expression from him. Some gratitude would have been appreciated, but Lucien merely laughed, the sound rough and uneven.

“Don’t… hah… don’t clench so tightly.” Lucien stroked Kosha’s abdomen as though he had not just pinned him down. “You can’t finish yet.”

That was the second rule.

They had to prolong the duration of penetration after sunset for as long as possible.

Strictly speaking, the sexual act itself stimulated Kosha’s magical power. The mechanism was likely connected to his accelerated heartbeat, although they had yet to determine the exact principles involved. The longer the friction continued, the greater the amount of mana released at once.

Therefore, Kosha had to be adequately prepared before sunset, with penetration beginning just before the sun vanished beneath the horizon. From his perspective, the ideal outcome was to reach the height of arousal as the sun set, then prolong the stimulation until the mana finally discharged.

Naturally, Lucien agreed that this was necessary. Pointlessly exhausting the mage’s body served no purpose.

However, his unusual persistence and shameless enthusiasm had nothing to do with necessity. That stemmed entirely from personal preference.

Until the sun disappeared beyond the western mountains and darkness swallowed the world, Lucien remained perfectly still, buried deep inside Kosha. In theory, the pause gave Kosha time to adjust, but that did not necessarily make the strain any easier to bear.

“Ha… ugh… ah…”

Kosha’s pale thighs trembled.

The club-like presence filling him felt as though it might pierce straight through his stomach. It was not precisely painful, nor was it entirely unpleasant, leaving Kosha at a complete loss as to how he should react.

Lucien waited for the remaining light to fade, occasionally pressing his hips forward to grind slowly against Kosha’s insides. The sensation of the hard glans pushing and scraping within him became increasingly illicit and strange. Deep in his belly, Kosha felt the muscles clench and loosen without conscious command.

“Hoo…”

A ragged, heated breath spilled over the nape of his neck. The arm wrapped around him tightened, and the powerful thighs beneath Kosha’s legs flexed.

He could feel Lucien’s arousal behind him, raw, rigid, and pulsing.

Is he suffering too? Is he as undone as I am?

The sun would be gone soon.

Kosha stared through glazed eyes at the view beyond the window. More than half the sky had already darkened.

It should be time by now. Or is it still too early? Should I wait a little longer? Has the magic not begun circulating yet?

Urgency surged through him, and Kosha’s hips twitched before he could stop them. His waist moved instinctively, seeking the one angle that offered the sweetest pleasure.

Holding Kosha close while suppressing his own need, Lucien released a quiet, mocking laugh.

The sight of those narrow hips squirming around him, barely able to contain his length, was both exasperating and dangerously arousing. Kosha’s dizzyingly tight interior clenched around him, then softened again as though inviting him deeper.

“Hah… you really are something.”

Lucien swallowed a groan and buried his forehead against the nape of Kosha’s neck. The passage around him fluttered in a perfect, maddening rhythm.

At that moment, Lucien decided the rest of the shirt had to come off. He had left that final layer in place out of concern for the cold, but he would not be satisfied unless he could watch that slender waist sway so recklessly with his own eyes.

He no longer possessed the focus to check the window or judge the time.

Seizing the hem, Lucien dragged the shirt over Kosha’s head. Suddenly bare, Kosha twisted around to stare at him in confusion.

“…?”

His gaze darted between the ink-blue sky beyond the window and Lucien’s blue-gray eyes.

Lucien had no time to decipher the reason for that bewilderment. All he managed was a desperate kiss against Kosha’s lowered eyelids.

“Your Highness…?” Kosha called, as though confirming that Lucien was still himself.

The title abruptly grated on Lucien’s nerves. He smiled, though his brow furrowed sharply.

“Why are you still calling me ‘Your Highness’ while we’re doing this?”

“W, what?”

“At a time like this, you could at least…”

Remaining motionless inside the hot, narrow passage was becoming increasingly torturous. Little by little, Lucien began to grind against the clinging walls. Gripping Kosha’s waist and locking him firmly in place, he pushed deeper, thrust once with measured smoothness, then continued.

“Call me by my name.”

“What?”

“My name.”

Lucien pressed Kosha’s heaving chest forward, pinning the mage’s naked back against his own torso. Kosha turned to look at him, his face flushed, his lips parted, and his eyes unfocused with pleasure.

‘Y, Your Highness, are you out of your mind?’ Kosha barely managed to ask.

Although the sun had set, their intimacy remained a slow, smoldering heat rather than a violent frenzy. They still spoke politely, and Lucien retained enough clarity to carry on a conversation.

Kosha had meant to ask whether the potion had robbed him of his sanity. Lucien, however, heard the question as a roundabout rejection of his demand, and his expression darkened.

He was sane, of course.

That hardly seemed relevant anymore.

“Do you not know my name?”

“What?”

“Are you sleeping with me only because I am ‘Your Highness’?”

That was not true at all.

Lucien’s voice dropped beneath the wet, disorderly sounds of their bodies, low enough to scrape across the floor. Kosha understood that rank might be one reason behind their circumstances, but surely no one would say such a thing aloud unless he had lost his mind completely.

Even with the last thin layer of Kosha’s reason threatening to tear apart, he could still make that calculation.

“Pardon? N, no. That isn’t it. No, ah!”

Kosha shook his head frantically. Bruises and dark marks already mottled his pale body.

Lucien pressed him again, insisting that he use his name. If he heard that absurd title one more time in bed, he might genuinely lose control.

Besides, Kosha had called him by name before.

“Lu…” Kosha faltered, wondering whether he truly dared speak it aloud.

As was often the case with the innocent mage, the hesitation was entirely pointless.

Lucien drove upward several more times. The thrusts gradually intensified, carefully measured so Kosha would remain conscious while taking him. When Lucien pressed down on his hips and urged him to hurry, a broken sound spilled from Kosha’s throat.

“Huuuugh…” Kosha cried, finally blurting it out. “Lu, Lucien. Lucien.”

“…”

“Ah… hhh… Lucien. Ah…”

Lucien’s head spun violently. He held his breath and clenched his teeth, unable to tell whether the sensation came from the potion taking full effect or from something else entirely.

“That’s right.” His praise sounded almost like an imitation of tenderness. “Well done.”

Without warning, Lucien reached between Kosha’s thighs, lifted him from the sofa, and stood.

Because of their considerable difference in height, Kosha’s toes dangled above the floor. The change in angle drove Lucien even deeper, making it feel as though the hard length had burrowed into the pit of Kosha’s stomach.

“Ugh! Y, Your Highness! Ah!”

“‘Your Highness’ again?”

Kosha’s bare legs flailed before locking around Lucien’s waist.

With every step the prince took, Kosha’s inner walls fluttered and contracted, creating a distinctive stimulation around the man buried inside him. Lucien crossed to the opposite side of the room, then lowered Kosha facedown across a broad dresser. The furniture stood unusually high, leaving the mage’s feet barely grazing the floor.

“From now on, whenever we do this, you will call me by my name.”

Leaning over him, Lucien kissed the nape of his neck.

His thick chest pressed Kosha flat against the cold wooden surface. Then his hips began to move again, settling into a slow, deliberate rhythm.

“Ah… ugh… hhh… Lucien. There… ah… aaah!”

“Mmm. That’s it.” Lucien’s breath shuddered. “You like it there, don’t you?”

He adjusted his aim and drove into the same place several more times. Kosha’s fingernails scraped sharply across the wood.

Lucien soon pinned Kosha’s hands beneath his own, leaving the mage unable to move so much as a fingertip.

Their coupling continued with slow, relentless persistence.

For some reason, Lucien remained remarkably sane that night. Gasping against the dresser, Kosha found himself thinking that perhaps it had been easier when the act became so overwhelming that he could no longer think at all.

The friction of his erect nipples against the cold wood was almost unbearable. His own rigid, pink member swayed beneath him, repeatedly catching against the metal handles of the dresser. He desperately wanted to reach for something, anything, but Lucien’s hands held his firmly in place.

Every sensation felt too vivid, too tangible, and utterly inescapable.

Kosha shuddered.

To the one receiving, it felt endless.

In truth, it did not last particularly long, considering how much Lucien had already endured.

Milky fluid burst from the tip of Kosha’s member and clung stickily to the metal handles. Moments later, overwhelmed by the passage tightening around him as though intent on wringing him dry, Lucien buried himself as deeply as he could and ejaculated inside.