Reverse Dungeon

Even after saying it, Keith felt conflicted.

Isn't that the sort of thing said by a favored consort leading a ruler toward the ruin of his kingdom?

The intent was similar as well. He was trying to draw his ruler's attention away from work.

Keith removed his cloak.

Then his breastplate.

Then his gauntlets.

One by one, he set them aside.

Rustle.

As he pulled down the garment underneath and exposed bare skin, Ian's gaze was drawn downward as if by instinct.

He likes a body with muscle.

Just as a smile always appeared whenever he saw those pretty-faced elves and fairies, he became noticeably more forgiving when confronted with a physique that suited his tastes.

Ian's eyes drifted over Keith's chest as though entranced.

After a lifetime of training, Keith's body was more than capable of stealing its master's breath away.

Taking advantage of that, Keith unfastened his belt.

Click.

Ian's shoulders twitched.

He looked up at Keith with wide eyes.

More startled by his own reaction than by Keith's actions.

Blood rushed downward.

Even so, his master was different from those who abandoned their duties after becoming infatuated with a favored lover.

"...We don't know when we're leaving. Don't waste your stamina."

He was clearly affected, yet he still turned his head away.

Compared to how coldly his body turned, his gaze lingered a little longer before finally dropping.

Soon all Keith could see was the back of Ian's round head.

Keith admired the patience of the man he served.

At the same time, he felt disappointed.

"Are you lacking stamina?"

"..."

"I'm perfectly fine."

"No. It's not that. We just need to be in perfect condition."

A spark appeared in Ian's eyes.

His pride was strong enough that even an obvious provocation worked.

Perhaps I should warn him.

What if someone else someday tried to exploit that weakness for less honorable purposes?

Though after having just taken advantage of it himself, now hardly seemed like the right moment for such advice.

Instead, Keith said:

"Then please Purify me."

"We did that yesterday."

"But wasn't it only a kiss? Were you not the one who told me that contact through mucous membranes benefits me?"

Keith placed one hand on the back of Ian's chair.

Then he set the other on the desk.

The posture felt pleasingly similar to holding Ian in his arms.

Pure confusion appeared on Ian's face.

"Where exactly did you learn tricks like that?"

"..."

If anything, Keith was curious where Ian had learned such unusual expressions.

"It seems I've been learning how to speak from you, Ian..."

"When the hell did I ever say anything like that?!"

"Indeed. What I just said was merely my own desire borrowing my mouth."

"No, you..."

"Didn't you say you wanted to inspect my condition? Please examine it personally."

Ian fell silent.

His lips pressed tightly together.

His ears, however, were bright red.

His eyes trembled as though considering something.

Then determination settled over him, and he looked directly at Keith.

His master never pretended not to notice the wishes of those who followed him.

No matter how small those wishes might be.

As expected.

"Come here."

"Closer than this?"

There was virtually no distance left between them.

"Lower your head."

"So you meant the distance between our faces..."

"Stop smiling."

Had he been smiling?

Keith tried to erase the smile lingering at the corners of his mouth, but after seeing Ian's stubborn expression, it wasn't easy.

Why is he making that face?

As though he were preparing himself for some tremendous decision.

Wasn't it unbearably adorable?

Keith lowered his head.

Closing his eyes, Ian firmly pressed their lips together.

His tongue slipped between Keith's lips.

Their tongues met and brushed against each other.

As if tasting one another.

Both of Ian's hands had wrapped around Keith's waist.

But no matter how much Keith bent over, there was no way a standing man's height and a seated man's height could ever match.

Ian's face turned bright red from tilting his head upward.

The sight was so cute that Keith nearly smiled again.

Apparently noticing laughter threatening to escape through their joined lips, Ian opened his eyes into a glare.

"Sit down."

Laughing?

Ian felt irritated.

This bastard had been acting relaxed the entire time, as though he were the more experienced one.

Even though they had gained exactly the same amount of experience.

Ian was confident that if their eye level matched, he could do just fine.

"Like this?"

Keith dropped to both knees on the floor.

Obviously, Ian had meant for him to sit in the chair.

Instead, Keith cupped the back of Ian's head and pulled him forward.

Their lips met again.

Now that their eyes were at a similar level, kissing was much easier.

Maybe that wasn't the issue.

Maybe Keith was simply good at kissing.

Every time Keith's tongue stole away some of the heat building inside him, a tingling sensation ran through Ian's toes.

Twitch.

Twitch.

His feet scraped unconsciously against the floor.

What was I trying to say again?

Ian couldn't remember.

"Mmh..."

Heat was gathering in his lower abdomen.

His head felt hot.

Places he would rather not think about felt hot.

His cheeks burned.

Even his hands felt restless.

Ian wrapped his arms around Keith's neck.

Yet something still felt lacking.

He wanted to keep touching something.

Though he wasn't sure what.

His hands slipped from Keith's shoulders and wandered down his back.

Compared to the scar-covered chest, the skin there was smooth.

The sensation pleased him.

Ian repeatedly stroked the firm muscles of Keith's back.

Through his palms, he could feel even the smallest movements.

Keith's hands continuously brushed through Ian's hair.

Each movement caused the muscles of his back to flex beneath Ian's touch.

The hand stroking his hair.

The back beneath his palms.

Their tongues rubbing together.

Everything felt wonderful.

As though electricity were passing through him.

A strange breath escaped from his throat.

"Mmh... feels good..."

"Ian..."

"Mmh..."

"A little more..."

Keith's sigh vanished between their lips.

His hand grabbed the front of Ian's trousers.

Ian gasped.

The fabric was already damp.

Only hidden by his outer clothing.

Keith squeezed him through the cloth.

His erection, hard and rigid, was trapped within that calloused hand and stimulated without mercy.

Every stroke seemed to leave the fabric wetter than before.

The world repeatedly flashed black and white before his eyes.

"W-Wait."

"Don't you like being touched like this?"

That was true...

But it wasn't something he wanted to hear spoken by a mouth that looked as though it had spent an entire lifetime reciting prayers.

Ian stared at him, speechless.

Are you really a Holy Knight?

"You liked this too."

Keith's hand slid lower, pressing deeper between Ian's legs over the fabric.

The sensation of fingers moving through the cloth was maddeningly ticklish.

Ian twitched again.

His thighs instinctively drew together, tightly trapping Keith's arm.

Keith paid it no attention.

He kneaded Ian mercilessly.

Sparks exploded behind Ian's eyes.

No sound even managed to escape his throat.

"W-Wait..."

"Does it feel good?"

"Hey, ah... hnngh! You...!"

"Yes, Ian."

"Mmh... stop... I said..."

"Seeing you happy makes me happy too..."

Overheated, the Holy Knight rubbed his head against Ian's stomach.

Like a young beast burrowing into its owner.

Reflexively, Ian wrapped his arms around that head.

His fingers sank into golden hair.

The blond strands, radiant as sunlight, rustled softly.

The hair caught between his fingers was slightly dry and light.

Most of all, it was warm.

A strangely comforting sensation.

Meanwhile, below, he was still being stroked.

His stomach tickled.

The Holy Knight in his arms was shamelessly handling another man's body with one hand while using the other on himself.

No.

The obscene sight made him even harder.

Ian felt dizzy.

At this rate he was going to ruin his clothes.

He bit his lip.

Then, summoning superhuman self-control, he pulled Keith's head away.

Keith looked up in confusion.

"...Ian?"

Has he lost his mind?

Keith's sculpted forehead was faintly red.

His hair was disheveled.

His eyes were damp with heat.

Seeing such a rare, disorderly expression directed toward him caused another painful throb below.

Ian had never realized he was this vulnerable to desire.

Still, he wasn't some adolescent having his first wet dream.

He couldn't very well dirty his clothes at his age.

"I told you to stop."

"...My apologies. I was overcome by desire..."

Keith looked flustered.

Then shame overtook his expression.

He picked up a scabbard.

And promptly tried to hit himself with it.

I thought taking away the whip had solved this.

Now he was trying to injure himself with a scabbard instead.

"Would you stop doing that already?!"

"But if I do not repent, I will only repeat my mistakes. I dared to anger you. How could I possibly repay such a sin?"

"No, I'm not angry."

"You did not desire this, yet I selfishly pushed my own desires onto you. I have no excuse."

He sank into self-loathing.

The way he kept glancing around made it seem as though he were searching for a rope to hang himself with.

Ian was dumbfounded.

"I wanted it too!"

"Yes. You didn't want...?"

Standing before a malfunctioning Keith, Ian decisively unfastened his belt.

He lowered his trousers.

Then he spoke firmly.

"There. Now keep going."

Keith's eyes widened.

He did not refuse.

Ian's erection disappeared into his mouth.

"Ah...!"