Chapter 8

“Get away from me… I can’t breathe!”

They had been entangled for a long time under the guise of sharing breath. Finally, unable to take it anymore, Rochshan shoved Kyle away. Suffocating wasn’t just an excuse. It truly felt as if Kyle’s tongue was sliding all the way down his throat, pulling back out. A violent shudder wracked his body. Feigning ignorance of his master’s hacking coughs, Kyle reeled in his red tongue and shrugged.

“You still look nauseous,” Kyle remarked.

“Because I am.”

“That’s because you barely eat and do nothing but sleep. They say beauties are heavy sleepers, but there’s no need for you to follow that trend. You’re already overflowing with beauty.”

He spouts things that scrape at my nerves, then drops a flirtatious line like that. Fuck, I seriously can’t figure out what goes on in his head. Drained of the energy to engage in another pointless argument, Rochshan pinched the bridge of his high nose as if he’d swallowed something incredibly spicy, grinding his teeth.

“That’s because someone keeps sucking my stamina dry. Doesn’t it occur to you that I’m passing out because all my energy has been completely depleted? Huh?”

“Don’t tell me that ‘someone’ is me?”

“Well, you’re the one fucking me, not the other way around, aren’t you?”

Firmly believing that his recent, noticeable erectile dysfunction was solely due to exhaustion, Rochshan raised his voice. Instantly made the target of his accusations, Kyle’s gaze turned sullen.

“How unfair. I distinctly declined. I even wrapped you up tightly in the blankets so you wouldn’t lay a hand on me. Yet, who was it that escaped and rubbed their bare ass right against my face?”

“Lalalala. I can’t hear you, I can’t hear you.” Rochshan turned his back, plugging his ears and playing dumb.

It was typical of his kind—taking credit for things they never did and feigning innocence over things they did. But in truth, Rochshan himself realized that his rational restraints were completely broken.

Strangely, despite having absolutely no appetite for food, just the sight of that bastard Kyle in a tailcoat made his mouth water unbearably. A mere whiff of the man’s scent twisted his stomach, filling his head with the singular desire to gorge himself on his copious, pungent semen all day long.

And indeed, he had been pouncing on him relentlessly.

Lately, under the pretext of sick leave, he had entirely abandoned his court duties. It was just sex, and more sex.

Hah. A sex-addicted lunatic. You’ve really hit rock bottom, Rochshan Owin. Swallowing a self-deprecating sigh, Rochshan unconsciously cradled his lower abdomen. Was it the lingering afterglow of sex? Everything below his navel felt heavy. Insane thoughts followed. Then again… Considering how much of that bastard’s cum has been pumped into me, shouldn’t something be growing in there by now? I’m already leaking breastmilk everywhere…

It was driving him crazy. His focus shattered like this once again.

Even on the rare occasions he fell asleep without having sex, he would drift in a daze, engulfed in the illusion that he was constantly fucking Kyle, like being submerged in highly buoyant water. Sometimes he thought he saw someone; other times, he thought he heard a barrage of strange noises. But auditory and visual hallucinations were a daily occurrence for Rochshan. Clearly distinguishing one unreality from another was difficult.

“Careful,” Kyle warned.

“…What the hell? Why are your hands so hot?”

Should I have the coffins prepared in advance? Two of them, of course. Having gnawed away my parents’ lives, am I now destined to lose my mind and die? If so, should I write a will demanding my slave be buried alive with me?

The moment even a single handful of dirt was thrown on Kyle Blackburn’s body, Rochshan would be the first to sprint over and desperately try to rescue him. Yet here he was, imagining himself as the ultimate wicked villain. The thought startled him. He had kicked off the bedcovers and stood up, only to stumble pathetically. In that moment, the palm of the servant who swiftly supported him was blisteringly hot.

Kyle Blackburn was a perpetually cool man. He literally had a low body temperature and was quite sensitive to the cold. Yet that very man smoothly pulled his hand away and shrugged innocently.

“Who knows? Perhaps constitutions can change even after you’re fully grown,” Kyle said. “Isn’t it a relief? You always freaked out, claiming it gave you goosebumps whenever my bare skin clung to yours.”

“No, but there’s a limit. Don’t you have a cold?”

“Didn’t you say idiots don’t catch colds? Nothing is wrong yet, so don’t worry.”

Yet?

Just as Rochshan was puzzling over the suspicious foreshadowing, Kyle brought up another topic to distract him.

“Anyway, the sun is already high in the sky. The rain has stopped, too. They say the busy streets are lined with stalls. How about we go out to eat and get some fresh air for the first time in a while? I will escort you.”

“Forget it. I’m not getting swept up in that nonsense.” Rochshan waved his hand in disgust, flatly refusing.

The atmosphere of the Black Dragon Festival was at its absolute peak. He had heard that applications for the mass wedding were flooding in. He could picture the scene with his eyes closed. Every alleyway would be swarming with smitten couples and brats dragged out by their parents. Why the hell would he wade into that chaotic madhouse just to watch people lose their minds? If he had his way, he would lock this bastard in a back room until the festival ended.

In the midst of all this, King Philip was giving him a headache, tirelessly sending continuous dispatches to invite him to a ‘nest wedding’. Rochshan ground his teeth. He had endured enough. It was high time to firmly tell the king to stop obsessing over a slave he had transferred away well over a decade ago.

“Forget it. I want to wash up first,” Rochshan deflected.

“I’ll wash you.”

“Bring the disinfectants, too. I need to treat your arm. We have to see if it needs stitches…”

“Over something this trivial?”

Rochshan blindly grabbed Kyle Blackburn’s forearm as it passed his view, only to lose his words. He thought he was seeing things. The wound that had practically exposed raw red flesh was almost entirely healed.

“It only bled a little. I told you, I wasn’t hurt badly enough to warrant such a fuss.”

He had already wiped away the bloodstains from his nape and cheek. Looking as immaculate as a flawlessly scrubbed crime scene, the servant led the Count by the hand. But the moment Rochshan stepped over the bathroom threshold, the decorative rose scent—which he barely even noticed on a normal day—violently churned his stomach.

Urp. Sour bile surged up past his uvula.

“If you feel like puking, don’t hold it back. Do it right here.”

“You’ve got an iron stomach.”

A large palm was thrust into his vision, blurred by physiological tears.

“It’s nothing. If you just give me permission, I could even lick it up.”

Unbelievable. He actually took that as a compliment. Sarcasm simply didn’t work on the bastard. Then again, you need a brain to understand an insult. Dropping the tears that had gathered from his dry heaving, the Count barely suppressed his nausea and lowered his body into the prepared bathtub. Steam rose from the scalding water, prepared explicitly for his beloved morning baths, gently relaxing the muscles tight beneath his jaw.

“You looked exactly like you were having morning sickness.”

At Kyle’s clumsy joke, a faint, breathy chuckle escaped Rochshan’s lips. He had been thinking the exact same thing. Furthermore, the very fact that he was laughing at it was utterly absurd. His mind was a tangled mess. The situation, his body, his heart—absolutely nothing was going according to his own will.

“I feel like I’ve been possessed by a ghost…” Rochshan murmured.

“If you truly were possessed, what would you wish for?”

A child. A child who resembles you just a tiny bit, and looks exactly like me for the rest of it.

Somehow, it felt like his stomach was sloshing. Rochshan tried to scold Kyle for asking such a useless hypothetical, but he failed. Instead, his twisted lips looked as if they were holding back a tremble. He nervously splashed the bathwater. His fading voice followed.

“Wishes and whatever… quit the bullshit and just keep your promise.” His brilliant eyes, wide and strained, were shot with blood. “I told you not to die before me. Do you understand? It’s an order!”

“Yes, as you command.”

His repeated commands were, in truth, incredibly laughable. To begin with, there was no such thing as a dragon kicking the bucket before its nest. Thus, what Rochshan should have been begging for was the exact opposite: Don’t eat me when you can’t hold back anymore, or, Don’t rape me to death.

Lowering his eyes submissively and pretending to comply, Kyle Blackburn suddenly wondered: just where had this pretty, blond, green-eyed Count sold off his innate duty as a nest to instinctively despise dragons? He forcibly swallowed the tickling laughter trying to bloom in his chest. Thanks to Rochshan’s repeated emphasis, the path to breaking through this deadlock had finally become crystal clear.

Rochshan Owin doesn’t want to kill Kyle Blackburn, so he’s hiding those feelings.

Turns out, we’re in the exact same boat.

With the premise established, guessing the cause wasn’t difficult. He must be under some kind of curse. Well, it’s just a human curse anyway. Try as he might, Kyle couldn’t help but mock the agony and anguish contained within that small head.

“Just when will it be?” Kyle asked.

“What?”

“When will you become exactly like me?”

When will your heart turn as bright red as mine, Rochshan? Even as he sighed, he burned with impatience for that soft, pale-colored heart.

Splash. Hooking his arms under Rochshan’s armpits, Kyle hoisted him out of the water and guided him to the ceramic tile section set up in one corner of the bathroom.

The body that turned around and leaned against the tiled wall was perfectly warmed. It was time to meticulously lather his softened skin with fresh-scented soap suds. Soon, a painstaking scalp massage and a scrub between every single toe were completed. Having bathed Rochshan while kneeling humbly, Kyle stood up and brought over a basin of warm goat’s milk mixed with water.

“Nngh, I said, exactly what is…”

It was pure instinct to let out a sigh of satisfaction as the stream of water cascaded from the elegant ceramic spout, flowing over his shoulders and rinsing the foam entirely from his body. Naturally, the opaque milk ran down the crevice of his backwards-thrust buttocks. Intoxicated by the gentle, refreshing sensation, Rochshan didn’t even realize one of his hands was being pulled behind him.

Something burning hot with a solid core was shoved into his palm. A beat too late, Rochshan realized what it was and gnashed his teeth.

“Fuck, are you complaining that my cock is small now?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then are you mocking me because I can’t get it up, huh?! Yeah, congrats on your rock-hard cock, you bastard! An irredeemable pervert who pops a boner whenever and wherever he pleases dares to—”

“I don’t care about that, either. Even when it’s totally limp, you squirt just fine. Delicious piss. That’s more than enough for me.”

“……!”

Pierced right through his insecurities as Kyle caressed his earlobe, Rochshan’s face turned as red as a carrot in a flash. Premature incontinence symptoms, along with a perpetually loose back-pussy, were Rochshan’s fatal flaws that had recently surfaced. It was effortless to make his mortified master feel even more embarrassed, yet simultaneously smug. Gnawing softly on the tender cartilage of Rochshan’s ear, Kyle whispered.

“And right now, Master, your nipples are bursting with milk. You’re so obscenely beautiful it drives me insane. Anyone who wouldn’t get a hard-on seeing this is a fucking idiot.”

They had engaged in enough sleep-fucking, which served primarily as a means of nourishment. This time, Kyle wanted a fuck that satisfied his craving for attention. So look at me. The effect of his protest was instantaneous. Pinching the damp tips of Rochshan’s chest between his fingers and pulling them, Kyle pressed his own naked, muscular abdomen flush against him. The horrified master immediately shrieked.

“Don’t… pull them like that, ah!”

“Then squeeze my cock, ngh, even tighter, please. Crush it.”

“Don’t twist my nipples, either…!”

“Then let me lick them, please.”

“Fuck off, you’ve already had enough to make you sick… stop it…!”

“Sick of it? Never.”

“Ah, ngh…!”

“I want to drink from them for another thousand, no, ten thousand years.”

Was that all? Kyle’s burning ambition was undoubtedly conveyed: he intended to ram his cock into Rochshan’s anus, pump him full of cum, and grind his dick-head against that unripe womb for ten million years, ensuring there would never be a day Rochshan wasn’t pregnant.

This crazy fucking psycho…! Trembling with rage, Rochshan clenched his fists. He would strike him with his elbow and break his nose. This plaything of his was far too stubborn and constantly pulled unprompted stunts at the drop of a hat. I’ll make you docile. He ground his teeth, but it was nothing more than a pathetic, hollow desire for revenge.

Faster than he could unleash the punches he’d paid an instructor good money to learn, the hands that had dropped Kyle’s cock were thrown high and pinned flat against the tiles.

Bang! In a flash, Rochshan’s body was spun around to face forward.

“Ah, hnn…!”

Binding his hands with interlaced fingers and turning his master into a wall ornament, the slave’s black-haired head slid down Rochshan’s pulsing nape. He dragged his sharp nose across a collarbone, then swallowed the right nipple whole in a single bite. Unbearably obscene noises instantly began shaking the damp air of the bathroom.

Slurp, shluuck, suck…

Smack, sluuuurp, shloooop, schlip, smack.

“Nngh…”

It didn’t take long for that deeply obstinate, noble jaw to tilt back entirely and spasm. Rochshan thrust his unfixed waist forward. His twisting pelvis trembled minutely. If one were to part his tightly clenched buttocks, the situation was even more tragic. In time with the rhythm of his nipple being greedily sucked, his bottom hole was pulsating wildly, gasping for breath and spitting out slick lubrication.

“……!”

The tickling sensation that made him writhe at the waist instantly crawled upward, sending shivers right to the base of his skull. It was proof that the nipples, currently being drained of milk, had completely transformed into full-blown erogenous zones.

“Fuck, it feels so go— hnn…k.”

As he forced down the moan threatening to erupt with his last shred of pride, the servant, noticing this, smirked against his chest, his lips dripping with milky-white fluid.

“How is it? Do you like your plaything?”

“Hmph, for an old model, hnn, the performance isn’t terrible.”

“Any additional features you’d like?”

“Forget it. If anything, the problem is you have too many useless options! Just shut the fuck up and suck my tits more, you bastard…!”

Glaring down at the lowborn bastard staring up at him with bright eyes—acting cute despite his nature—Rochshan gnashed his teeth, his eyes flushing red. Curses poured out instinctively against himself. He vowed restraint every single time, loathing the idea of looking cheap and undignified, but his self-control was vastly more pathetic and powerless than a sandcastle on the beach.

Fuck. If he shows even a hint of triumph, I’ll gauge his fucking eyes out. The moment Rochshan cursed him with a fierce, tear-blurred glare, fire caught on his large nipple once again.

“Ah, ahhh, hiik…!”

Under the nails of their interlaced hands, his panting grew steep.

Dammit. By now, the pleasure of getting his tits sucked aggressively completely eclipsed the sensation of his cock. But an emotion far greater than shame was sweeping over Rochshan. The Count’s lust-hazed gaze landed on the decorative mirror opposite them.

In the mirror, Kyle’s broad back—hunched over to ravenously gorge on his breasts—was utterly covered in deep scratch marks. Lowering his gaze further, the sight was even more spectacular. Even though Rochshan hadn’t yet offered him a hole to fuck, that waist woven with tough muscle fibers and those voluptuous hips were already humping the air like a dog in heat. Between his spread legs, his heavy balls swung around in an incredibly unsightly manner. Yet, that vulgar phantom fucking was so achingly desperate it made Rochshan’s breath catch.

Look. The most apathetic bastard in the world goes completely crazy solely for me. Getting pinned under him and ruthlessly fucked in his anal pussy like a bitch always left him utterly drained, but luring this aloof, coldhearted man into shamelessly thrusting his hips at any given moment definitely brought him a twisted sense of satisfaction.

If past lives existed. Unable to tear his eyes away from Kyle’s rippling back muscles, Rochshan was absolutely certain: he must have been a man-eating flower. He would have raised a pistil akin to a cunt to seduce the pest known as Blackburn. He would have chewed him up and melted him down. Every last bit of him, even those goddamn lips that knew nothing of confession. All to ensure he could never run away anywhere.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. At the end of his thrilling, solitary mirror adultery, the name of his unrequited love burst forth.

“Kyle… harder… don’t just suck on one side, hnnk…!”

“Did the left one already swell up again?”

Did Kyle even know he was receiving such an agonizingly deep love?

The intensely loved black beast chuckled playfully and shifted his sharp nose to the other breast. Instantly, making a show of locking eyes with him, Kyle pursed his lips and sucked fiercely on the swollen areola. Despite performing such a crude act, the facial features looking down at him were breathtakingly perfect.

He is so fucking handsome.

It was a cold, chilling beauty potent enough to completely drain any will to scold him for his arrogant insubordination. His heart fluttered anew at the servant’s looks—a face he would never tire of for his entire life—and Rochshan’s breathing fractured. Look at that lustrous, military-short black hair. Those cool, sharply drawn corners of his eyes. Shoulders broad enough to mount, and limbs sculpted in golden proportions. And what of the elegant beauty of his high pelvis and deeply shadowed iliac crest? His lowly origins seemed like an outright lie.

How can a bastard like this even exist?

To Rochshan Owin, Kyle Blackburn’s physical form was unequivocally flawless. From the thick bush of pubic hair at his crotch, to that hideously massive cock that could never be called ‘beautiful’, all the way down to his calves that were easily two handspans longer than a normal man’s. No, the bastard was still, actively, morphing into his exact type.

‘I grow exactly as you desire.’

Meaning, that old nonsense.

‘So imagine me a lot. Adore me. Just like watering a plant.’

It hadn’t been empty words.

But when exactly was this memory from?

Inherently, dragon abilities did not work well on nests. Because it was Dragon-speech performed by Kyle Blackburn, the memory seal had held firm for over a decade. Yet, even that sturdy wall of sealing wax had eventually begun to crack as the ability wielder grew unstable.

The suspicion that pierced the core of that cracked seal, however, was quickly submerged back into his subconscious.

“Ngh…”

What instantly filled the void left by his thoughts was an intense visual orgasm.

Seeming to recall something but failing, Rochshan’s hazily spreading green eyes gradually grew wet and brilliant. Suck, shluuck, slurp. The ever-perfect Kyle was sucking on Rochshan’s nipples as diligently as if he were sucking on a cock, his cheeks hollowing out with the effort. He crushed them with his lips. Barely concealing his teeth, he was nothing short of a ravenous beast gorging on his mate’s breasts. The sheer ecstasy of looking down upon that beast was magnificent.

“Your milk ducts are completely full.”

The moment that lethargic, wet breath hit his nipple, he shivered.

“Ahnn…”

Immediately bitten again, the startling sensation of his bodily fluids being drained made Rochshan’s moans grow even more agonized. Slurp, shluuck, smack, schlip, shlik, smooch. The voracious suction sent a numbing thrill straight to the crown of his head. Before he knew it, his hands, freed from the interlaced grip, fled to rest on Kyle Blackburn’s broad shoulders. He gripped them hard enough to leave angry red handprints. Feeling as though he would lose his mind at this rate, he desperately wanted to babble anything at all.

“For a guy leaking fluid from another guy with the exact same set of balls, hnn, you sure are drinking it deliciously…”

“You love it.”

“Who loves, what…!”

Do you seriously want to die, too?! His guilty conscience nearly made him scream out loud. Tension momentarily spiked, cold sweat breaking out under his arms. The cursed Count Owin desperately feigned indifference. He did so fiercely because he possessed neither the courage nor the conscience to reveal everything and watch this bastard run away from him. Did he pick up the scent of this guilty secret? Catching the faint tremble at the edge of Rochshan’s lips, Kyle’s pupils narrowed craftily.

“What do you love, you ask.” He smirked. “You go crazy when I vigorously suck your milk out. You especially love the fact that my cock throbs while doing it. I know you’ve been stealing glances at my crotch while playing dumb.”

“……!”

“Why look in secret? You can stare openly.”

He was struck completely out of the blue.

“Here you go. Look at my twitching cock hole all you want.”

Caught red-handed with his filthy hobby, Rochshan flushed all the way to the bridge of his nose, swallowing his breath wrong in his panic. Kyle Blackburn pulled back slightly. It was his own twisted courtesy, giving Rochshan a clear, unobstructed view. That courtesy was a bit too overwhelming; completely drained of strength, the Count slid down against the tiled bathroom wall and slumped to the floor. The sudden chill raised the fine hairs on his shoulders.

“Look. You’re even drooling.”

Like the most shameless whore in the kingdom, Kyle spread his thick thighs wide to show himself off. Between that pale crotch, an aggressively thick, dark red, fully erect cock flaunted its presence. It jerked and twitched on its own, bounding as if he didn’t even need to thrust his hips. At a glance, its rigidity was so immense it looked like you could strap horse reins to it and hitch a ride.

“Hic.”

The tacky hiccup popped out solely because the sheer vulgarity of the Count’s exclusive whore had crossed a severe line.

Fingers with distinct joints mercilessly gripped the base of his own cock and pulled back the foreskin, fully exposing the glans. ‘Drooling,’ he had said. He meant it literally. Pre-cum broth leaking from the slit of the head—red and engorged from frequent fucking—pooled in the wrinkled ridge at the base of the glans before stretching down like thick saliva and dripping heavily onto his massive balls. Instantly, an unspeakable, pungent musk began to waft thickly through the air.

“Rochshan.”

The soft call was ominous. Thus, the owner of the name was already thoroughly disgusted, but—

“Shut up. Don’t say my name, you arrogant bastard. What bizarre stunt do you want to pull now…”

“My benevolent, horny Master.”

“I said shut up!”

“Aside from your soft cock, you have plenty of other things to shove into my pussy.”

“……!”

“Right here. Can I slot your nipple into your pussy?” Pointing shamelessly at his own cock hole, Kyle continued. “That engorged nipple. I’ll swallow it tight with this and squeeze it mercilessly for you.”

Rochshan couldn’t even bring himself to tell him to fuck off.

Rather, as if eagerly awaiting its turn, the swollen nipple hardened even more. Even though it had been sucked raw, it felt as though milk would flow once again. His sensitivity had heightened to the point where the very tip of his nipple began to sting. Gripping tight beneath his glans and closing the distance, the servant knelt tall on the tiled floor, and Rochshan found himself unable to even blink.

Soon, he was completely trapped in the man’s shadow.

His stomach churned as their identical soap-scented body odor mixed with that indescribably sharp scent of crotch. The feverish glans touched the tip of Rochshan’s breast, sealing in a perfect circle around the bulging areola. Just as it felt like his nipple was being crushed against the pulsing, wet slit, it was violently sucked inside in a flash.

Terrified the devoured nipple might slip back out, Kyle immediately clamped down hard on the head of his cock, and thick moans erupted from both of them simultaneously.

“Huuut…”

“Ah, unngh…!”

Inevitably, a gap formed between them equaling the length of Kyle’s cock. Yet, there was a uniquely thrilling, dizzying heat to this bizarre sex that connected only their most localized parts. Then, as weight bore down on that point of scorching consumption, their eyes met, and Kyle’s hips began extremely shallow thrusts.

Smack, schlip, smack.

The wet sound of his chest rubbing against the tip—still clamped tight to maintain pressure—followed in rapid succession. It felt like he was being relentlessly shoved and battered. The one gasping for air, completely overwhelmed, was Rochshan, the victim of this nipple fucking. Naturally so; the sensation was entirely different from having his milk sucked out by a soft, wet tongue. Crushed and mashed inside the damp urethra, his nipple would pop back out of the glans like it was being twisted and snapped by an oiled clothespin, sending sparks flying across his squinting vision with every strike.

“Ah, aht, ah, hah-ah…!”

The panting Count’s ragged moans were completely saturated with escalating arousal.

Fired up by the delightful sounds, his partner Kyle was in the same state. Blue veins bulged thickly on the beast’s nape as he looked down at Rochshan, who was drowning in pleasure. Crack. Bracing himself with immense grip strength, the wall tile beneath his hand abruptly fractured.

“Your milk is leaking out of my cock.”

The slave smiled, his eyes curving into crescents. No, it looked more like he was baring his teeth and licking his chops.

Schlik, smack, smack, smack.

The massive glans ground deep into the areola until it cratered, then pulled away, spitting out the nipple. A watery, milky-white fluid—much like semen after multiple rounds of ejaculation—clung stickily to the surface. Mmm, a sweet scent. It was a filthy nectar born from the mixture of Rochshan’s breastmilk and Kyle’s pre-cum.

“Your milk truly burst open.”

Swiping the sweet-smelling liquid and licking it off deliciously, the black dragon grinned. With his eyes, he stickily licked the nest’s body, which was now slathered in milk. Sweet milk had trickled all the way down to Rochshan’s heaving navel and into his sparsely haired crotch. For a dragon maddened by the urge to breed, was there any sight more stimulating? Blackburn’s eyelids narrowed slyly. He was definitely sporting a wicked grin.

“Just what kind of magnificent baby are you trying to give me, that your milk refuses to dry up?”

Even if I wanted to give you one, I can’t, you fucking bastard. Dammit all. His position had suddenly been overthrown, leaving him forced to look up. Flushed with arousal, Rochshan bit his lower lip and demanded answers through gritted teeth.

“You lied to me, you fucking piece of shit.”

“Lied?”

Well, I am a fucking piece of shit, considering how much I fuck you. He was going insane with how detestable this bastard Kyle was, tilting his head with half-hearted innocence. Lacking even the strength to grab him by the collar, Rochshan let out a low snarl.

“You said this lactation was a temporary symptom.”

“Ah, the milk.”

“You said the ducts would dry out if we sucked them clean!”

“Right. I thought that would cure you, but I guess I was wrong. What a shame. It looks like it’s completely worsened. Perhaps it might never stop for the rest of your life?”

For Rochshan, who had half-doubted yet entirely relied on Kyle’s bogus cure, it was a bolt from the blue. Live the rest of my life as a man who squirts breastmilk? But before he could turn pale and explode in anger, the brazen servant beat him to the punch.

“What does it matter? I’ll just suck it for you. For the rest of our lives.”

“Ah-uut…!”

And while we’re at it, occasionally pop out my babies, too. Hmm?

“Just thinking about it fills me with maddening joy,” Kyle beamed.

“You goddamn bastard, you say that so easily…! Since it’s not happening to you!”

Is eternity really that simple to you? Kyle Blackburn was a true-blue bastard who carelessly threw around empty checks. Knowing perfectly well that Rochshan was weak to modifiers like ‘lifetime’, ‘lifespan’, ‘lifelong’, and ‘eternity’, he was definitely inciting his anger on purpose.

However, the stimulation on his chest was far too intense to hurl any further abuse. Kyle’s cock hole had migrated to the other nipple. Against the pleasure of having his remaining nipple wantonly violated, Rochshan frantically clung to the bastard’s pelvis like a castaway. His nails accidentally slipped across the sweaty skin. Huu. Even that sharp sting contributed to the sensuality. Biting his lower lip provocatively, Kyle snatched his master’s slipping wrist.

The demand that followed was so absurd that the exhausted Rochshan thought he was hearing things.

“Fuck me with your fingers, too.”

“What…?”

“All ten of them.”

“What?!”

“That’s the only way I’ll be able to fully cum from my pussy.”

In exchange, I’ll stop torturing your pussy. You’ve been endlessly worried about it getting loose, haven’t you?

Smirking lewdly, the servant grabbed his master’s ring finger without hesitation and guided it right to his own damp cock hole. Slow to process the situation, Rochshan had no time to stop him.

Shhck. The finger slid fairly easily into the urethra that had been thoroughly stretched by the nipple.

“……!”

Swallowing Rochshan’s pinky finger all the way to the final knuckle into his urethra as the master froze in shock, Kyle squeezed his own penis tightly as if kneading it. Only after savoring every slender, aristocratic knuckle did he pull the dripping wet finger out. Of course, that wasn’t the end.

“Ngh…!”

Ring finger, middle finger, then the index finger.

Rochshan lost his mind at the sheer, logic-defying insertion playing out before his very eyes. Kyle jammed Rochshan’s fingers into his cock in reverse order, painting every single one of them with slick, metallic pre-cum.

Finally, it was time to mark his last territory. The cleanly manicured thumbnail, befitting a man of noble status, caught at a slant on the twitching tip of the hole.

“This one might hurt a bit,” Kyle warned.

Yet his face showed absolutely zero fear. He didn’t even hesitate. Driving his waist forward in one swift motion, Kyle Blackburn shoved his cock onto Rochshan’s thumb as if swiveling around the nail.

“……!”

The thin mucous membrane—specialized purely for expulsion—stretched to its absolute limits, clinging tight to the skin of the finger. Shocked into silence, Rochshan naturally shuddered in revulsion. But it was strange. Had the visual shock been converted into the urge to ejaculate? An electrifying need to urinate slammed into his lower abdomen, making Rochshan pull his knees up tight, trembling violently.

“Haa… Master. Do you feel my cock-pussy squeezing you?”

“I f-feel it, hiik.”

“The cum has risen right up to where your nail is, hasn’t it?”

He nearly scraped the urethral canal hard enough to draw blood.

“Thank god there’s plenty of lubrication. Huu… because fingers have bones, it feels completely different. The middle finger and the thumb feel different, too.”

And yet, rather than caring, he simply grinned. Perhaps his body temperature had surged too high, because Kyle chuckled with sweat dotting the bridge of his nose.

“Why so surprised? I’m always casually shoving something this size into you anyway.”

Mocking Rochshan’s finger-sized member with his metaphor, the bastard let out a raspy, low groan as he began to ruthlessly fuck the master’s thumb. Shluck, shluck. As the relatively inelastic hole repeatedly stretched to its limit, insertion miraculously became smoother and smoother. Lubricated by the friction, the sounds of his fucking changed. Squelch, schlick, slop… If you closed your eyes and listened, it sounded exactly like a pussy being pounded by a cock.

My finger… is burning hot. And it’s incredibly tight.

Good lord. Captivated, utterly bewitched by Kyle’s wicked hip thrusts, Rochshan’s pupils ceased moving. Even his jewel-toned eyes—which shone brightly even in the hazy dawn—stopped emitting their light.

“What the hell is this…”

Eventually, a scorching heat rushed all the way up to his eyelids. It was an act of intercourse he couldn’t believe even while watching it happen. Ultimately, all ten of his fingers were swallowed into that nonsensically tight hole. God above. Rochshan had overcome his fair share of appalling positions and acts through his innate promiscuity and endless curiosity, but this time, it was definitively too far. A cold shiver raced down his spine, to the point he felt a sheer, visceral madness.

“You absolute lunatic, you perverted fucking freak…!”

Beyond the horror, a sense of déjà vu crept in. Ah, it was exactly that feeling. That unbearably miserable and humiliating sensation, even though he had willingly chosen to lie beneath this musky beast. At the same time, the urge to urinate struck him so fiercely he felt like his bladder would burst, and Rochshan’s face contorted as if he were about to cry.

“Thanks for the compliment.”

Thanks for recognizing just how crazy I am for you.

Staring straight into his nest, squandering his exquisite beauty on this deranged madness, the servant replied gently. His tone implied that this pathetic finger-fucking was nothing but a drop in the bucket compared to the countless insane acts he had committed—or would commit—for him, yet the edge of his voice trembled ever so slightly.

Before long, the cock hole that had been thrusting against Rochshan’s thumb contracted, and the aggressively vein-roped penis began to violently throb.

“Nngh…!”

Rochshan belatedly noticed that even the man’s balls, pulled tight like fists, were twitching. Predicting Kyle’s climax, Rochshan frantically tried to yank his captive hand back, but he was too late. A brutal, crushing grip locked down on his own cock and his master’s hand all at once. Instantly, a powerful stream of semen erupted, reversing back through the impossibly narrow urethral canal.

Droplets of cum exploded in every direction around the finger blocking the glans opening. They splattered across the panting, paralyzed Rochshan’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and even his gleaming hair.

“That felt incredible,” Kyle breathed.

Finally opening his eyes in the afterglow of his climax, Kyle Blackburn narrowed his lids and smiled beautifully. He wasn’t the only one who had released. Beneath the thighs of Rochshan, who was leaning against the wall with trembling knees, a massive puddle had formed. He had pissed himself.

“Rochshan.”

“Sm-Smoked wild duck skewers!”

“…Excuse me?”

“I just realized I want to eat them, so let’s go out!”

If this keeps up, I’m definitely going to die from overexertion in bed. Desperate to cut off whatever Kyle was about to say next, Rochshan blindly grabbed the first food that came to mind and screamed it. The density of their morning intimacy had crossed a line so severe that even a sex-crazed addict like himself felt a mortal sense of crisis. The ceiling spun yellow before his eyes. If he surrendered his back hole here, he truly didn’t know if he would spend the entire day—no, several days and nights—starving while doing absolutely nothing but getting fucked.

He would definitely hire a doctor—no, a veterinarian—to examine this bastard. There were aphrodisiacs, so surely heat suppressants had to exist, right? In any case, to escape the immediate danger, Count Rochshan Owin chose the lesser of two evils, opting to indulge his servant’s whim to go out.

“You said you wanted some fresh air… right?” Rochshan pushed.

“Well… sure,” Kyle relented.

Even though he had been the one to suggest it first, the loyal servant seemed deflated as he reluctantly nodded. Then, taking the panicking Count’s hands, he wiped them clean against his own body before shoving Rochshan backward onto the floor.

“W-Wait, what the hell are you doing?!”

“I have to clean you up before we go out.”

Rochshan didn’t even have the chance to negotiate saving the cleanup for later. Instantly, a pungent cock was jammed into his mouth, and Kyle’s long, dark red tongue plastered itself to Rochshan’s wet ass, beginning to lick.