The Saint Wants to Rest - vanish into fiction

The place where Vermouth’s gaze landed was Ian’s bare skin, exposed defenselessly beneath his loose shorts.

As soon as those cool, firm lips touched the inside of his knee, Ian’s body gave a large, reflexive flinch. Vermouth firmly wrapped his single remaining thick arm around Ian’s calf as he tried to pull away. It did not hurt, but he permitted no room for escape.

“Hng, hey! Not there.”

“It is alright. I will handle everything.”

Vermouth whispered in a low, sunken voice. Every time his hot breath touched the tender skin of his inner thigh, Ian squeezed the pillow in his arms so hard it felt like it might burst.

Damn Regnasia. To her, the Goddess of War, there was another side, and that was Love. And pleasure was also included within that love.

The power Ian wielded had parts that were similar to her authority. Unlike general healing that fixed the wounds of others without cost, an act had to be performed in order to strip away the toxic demonic poison that had seeped into the very bones.

Specifically, physical affection filled with endearment. As body temperatures mingled and skin touched, as saliva was exchanged and pleasure heightened, the purity of the Divine Power and the speed of the healing amplified exponentially.

Vermouth’s lips slowly sucked on the soft flesh of the inner thigh.

From the spot where his lips touched, warm golden Divine Power rose like a haze and flowed into Vermouth’s veins. Simultaneously, the black demonic energy coiled inside his body burned against the Divine Power, creating a tingling stimulation.

That strange wave generated as the demonic energy was purified climbed straight up Ian’s spine, converting into a thrilling sexual sensation.

“Ah, hng! Ngh, Vermouth, wait, that’s too low!”

“…It is sweet.”

Vermouth lifted his head slightly, looking up at Ian with purple eyes that had darkened like a beast’s.

This bastard. His reason had already half-vanished.

A faint flush was spreading across his complexion, which had been pale from suppressing the demonic energy. His lips, reddened and wet with saliva, were alluring.

“Your scent, Ian, and this tender power you let flow to save me. Everything is so maddeningly sweet that it is difficult to endure.”

“D… Don’t say crazy things and just finish up quickly. We have to get this over with before Hyung comes back.”

“It has not been long since he left, so there is still time. Do not be anxious.”

Vermouth stopped kissing Ian’s thigh and let his body slide upward.

Wrapping his arm firmly around Ian’s waist, he pressed himself completely against the bed, casting a heavy shadow over Ian’s face. Though he hadn’t removed the t-shirt, their lower bodies were already locked together without a gap, sharing each other’s intense heat.

“Kiss me, please.”

Vermouth’s large hand carefully cupped Ian’s cheek. It was a lingering touch, as if he were handling the most fragile glassware in the world.

“In my heart, I wish to do other things as well, but I will settle for this.”

Settle for what! He wasn’t holding back at all. Ian had many things he wanted to say, but he refrained.

Ian lifted his face slightly from where it was buried in the pillow and met the eyes of Vermouth looking down at him. He always pretended to be cold and cruel, but at this moment, his gaze was that of a beast parched and craving its master’s warmth. Ian eventually let out a small sigh and closed his eyes.

“Just a little. Don’t put your tongue in too deep.”

Perhaps because his physical build was large, his tongue followed suit. Sometimes, when he delved too deep inside, Ian felt a surge of nausea. As soon as permission was granted, Vermouth’s lips greedily swallowed Ian’s.

“Mmph, ngh, nnh!”

Lips collided and hot tongues entangled. Vermouth pulled Ian’s waist so strongly that the veins stood out on his single remaining forearm, entering deeply as if he intended to swallow him whole.

Only explicit and lewd sounds echoed throughout the room.

The tongue of Vermouth ransacking the inside of Ian’s mouth was hot and persistent. He swept against the roof of the mouth and ensnared Ian’s tongue as it tried to flee, sucking on it stickily.

“Haah, ngh. Ver… Vermouth. I can’t breathe…”

“Mr. Ian, my God.”

Now he was committing blasphemy without a second thought.

Breathless, Ian twisted his head to try and avoid him, but Vermouth followed tenaciously, burying his hot lips into the jawline and the nape of the neck.

“Ah-ngh! Don’t bite there!”

After licking up the spot on his neck where the pulse beat with a thick tongue, he began to nibble and bite, leaving behind marks filled with possessiveness.