content warning: nsfw (wow, shocker…)
The day after the hunt, snow and wind alternated in their descent, overshadowing the fine weather from before and making it difficult to venture outside. Word had it that, due to the capriciousness of the Northern weather, as shown before them, it was rather common for its inhabitants to spend more than half the year indoors, confined to the comfort of their homes.
Ain had brought Michele a few books from the study in the hopes of alleviating his boredom, even though Michele had already challenged the study once before and suffered a crushing defeat. Nevertheless, it seemed that all the books in the study were tailored to Lord Sheleg’s taste, so Michele decided to use the opportunity to give the hobby another go.
Since Ain was just a servant, it was highly unlikely that he had read through all of Lord Sheleg’s collection. Naturally, the books he handed Michele were a complete mess. Among them were a few light and easy-to-read novels, but the vast majority of them were difficult books that were beyond Michele’s current level of understanding.
There were more recent works than there were classics, more texts detailing technology and economy than there were plays and literature, and more books penned by scholars of the bourgeoisie than ones written by nobles. How was it possible to bring books so contrary to his taste! Michele almost considered asking Ain whether he had closed his eyes and picked at random when he selected the books.
Still, learning the topics Lord Sheleg was interested in before meeting him would indeed be helpful for engaging in conversation. In spite of all his grumbling, Michele took great care in reading the books. If you just ignore the fact that they all looked like clumps of words he would never understand no matter how hard he racked his brains… It was so bad that he nearly found himself believing that the near-thousand-page play of love and hate he had read before was actually better than those books.
“…Ain,” Michele called, his eyes still fixed on the paper as he continued to read the book Ain had brought him the day before.
“Yes, Sir Anatold?”
When Michele lied down on the bed or sofa to read his books, the loyal servant always kept him company while attending to chores. The scene resembled a nimble hunting dog guarding its young master.
“Have you ever read this book before?”
“How could a servant possibly dare to touch his master’s precious books?”
Michele had asked since he seemed to know how to both read and write, but this was the answer that Ain had given him in return.
“Really…?”
It seemed that, whether North or South, books were precious all the same. Michele nodded, closing the hefty tome that spanned well over five hundred pages, its weight causing a resounding thud as it shut.
“Did you really… recommend this book to me knowing what it was about?” Michele asked, a blend of complaint and jest in his tone. Ain responded by tilting his head to the side, seemingly confused.
“Hmm…” Narrowing his eyes, Michele scrutinised him from head to toe. From his perspective, Ain’s expression seemed to suggest he wasn’t lying.
“It’s a book my master often reads, so I memorised its cover and location and brought it to you. Is there perhaps an issue?”
“…N-no.”
On any ordinary day, Michele would have babbled to Ain about the book he had read, but for some reason, he kept to himself today. Instead, he ran a hand over the faultless cover.
<Love>
The book’s title couldn’t have been any simpler. Michele liked that aspect. …And only that aspect!
The title led him to believe it was a romance novel, but its dark brown cover, devoid of patterns or embellishments, seemed a little too desolate for a “romance” novel. In spite of that, it still looked like a normal book on the exterior. However, the content within was entirely…
“—This book, you know this book is actually about a shameless gentleman who seduces and covets… innocent village girls, noblewomen who know better, and even ladies with fiances?”
Hearing those words, Ain’s gaze shifted. “I would’ve never thought it to be such an obscene story… My apologies.”
“Well, of course you didn’t know, so it’s not your fault, but…”
Speaking of the book’s content aloud was far more embarrassing than Michele had initially anticipated. However, seeing Ain awkwardly look into the air, it was an outcome well worth the embarrassment. It was a rare sight to see Ain, as tall as he was, look so blatantly flustered.
—Also, this book…
He didn’t know whether it was real, fiction, or maybe even a blend of both, but the book served as a sort of memoir, reminiscing on the youthful escapades of an affluent Northern noble.
The womanising gentleman dated countless women, loved them, and sometimes didn’t even hesitate before engaging in lascivious acts with them. The primary content revolved around him hopping from woman to woman without rest and making love.
Useless! Michele wasn’t the least bit moved by the story. It was nothing more than a depraved novel about lust, intended solely to arouse its readers. The love-making scenes were described in such relentless detail that just a line or two was enough to make his face burn with embarrassment.
“So, Sir Anatold, what do you think?”
Just then, Michele was asked an unexpected question.
“What… do I think? About the book, or…?”
Or was he asking for his opinion of Lord Sheleg, who read such novels?—Without realising it himself, Michele’s words began to trail, and he clamped his mouth shut.
…To be honest, he was rather floored to learn that Lord Sheleg enjoyed this book. He had heard that Lord Sheleg bore a striking resemblance to Ain, both in appearance and physique. So, subconsciously, he had begun to think of him as a reticent, blunt, and typical Northern noble.
But that Lord Sheleg was… Michele looked at Ain like a person pleading for help. It wasn’t at all strange for him to then imagine Ain, who was currently acting as Lord Sheleg, reading such an embarrassing book. Michele’s face heated up, as if it had caught fire.
“…I can’t believe he played with so many women just to satisfy his lust, without any love. That’s not a real man. I don’t even want to be associated with him. That’s what I think.”
Not wanting him to know what he had been imagining, Michele deliberately offered a pompous response to Ain’s question.
Any man would be intrigued by such a licentious book. However, to Michele, the protagonist of this book was nothing more than an irresponsible hedonist.
Once he heard rumours of beautiful women, he stopped at nothing to have them, even dating several women at once.
“What I hate even more is the excuse of having several lovers because your wife can’t carry… If it were me, I would never do something like that.”
Northerners might view Southerners, who were not averse to sleeping with others after marriage, as promiscuous. While there were nobles in the South who openly kept paramours, Michele was an exception; he despised such behaviour.
“Never…”
Michele observed Ain’s expression carefully as he spoke, as if wanting him to hear.
…Perhaps it was his guilty conscience that made him view the book in such a negative light. Because unlike the book’s protagonist, Michele didn’t have the right to choose who he loved.
From a very young age, Michele had a dream. He wanted to become a man who would love and cherish only one person—the one who would become his wife—for the rest of his life, just as his father had. That was why, despite having been practically sold in marriage to Lord Sheleg, he made every effort to lay with a servant.
To love and cherish only one person…
“My master would be happy to hear that.”
…To become such a husband.
“…Yeah.”
Michele, who had been fixing Ain with a blank stare, finally nodded. For some reason, a corner of his heart ached with pain upon hearing Ain’s evident answer. Michele brought a hand to his chest and felt around it. He even wondered if he had caught another disease from staying in such a cold place for so long.
“As much as I dislike this book… if this is what Lord Sheleg likes, then I’ll have to take note. Will I be able to please Lord Sheleg if I do as the book says? Though, a woman and a man’s bodies are different…” Michele then added, rubbing the thick cover of the book, “…that is, if this is indeed a book he likes.”
Michele glanced at Ain. His cheeks were red, though no one had painted them.
“Then… it seems there’ll be some merit in practicing for my master’s sake.”
Ain immediately understood the true meaning hidden within his words.
Michele had often fallen ill with minor ailments due to the unfortunate weather of the North, but after lying with Ain, he showed considerable improvement. And so Michele’s body began to adapt to the North.
…To adapt meant to change. It meant being different from before. In other words, it meant giving up the unnecessary aspects of the past in order to survive in a new environment. In order to adapt to the North, Michele began to give up aspects of the South where he had lived his entire life.
Now, he could more or less bear the cold, gloomy skies of the North and its stormy weather, as long as there were the flames of a warm fireplace and candles in place. He no longer missed sitting in the warm sunlight and reading poetic works as much. The fierce howling of the wind that rattled against the window all night no longer sounded like the wailing of a ghost. He began to understand winter solitude as silence.
What was the first thing he gave up to adapt to the North? Was it his brothers and friends in the South and the countless nobles of high society with whom he was only vaguely acquainted?
Although it hadn’t even been a month, their figures were already fading and slipping from his mind. It felt as though if he didn’t hold on to his memories now, they would fade away in the end. Was it the same for them as it was for him?
Instead, what was becoming clearer and closer to him was a person who embodied the North itself. With hair as dark as winter nights, eyes as blue as the sea, and skin as pale as white birch, the man’s body was as solid as the land and rocks that endured the winter, draped in snow.
To think that all he had gained after giving up so much of his past was a mere servant—the past him would have thought it a shame, but…
“I’m afraid Sir Anatold might feel displeased.”
At that moment, he heard an awkward voice. Michele snapped out of his thoughts and blinked slowly.
Ain was standing in front of him, naked.
Ain had always been the one to take the lead, but today he hesitated, unlike his usual self. Michele shook his head as he looked at Ain’s body, a sight he was now familiar with. “I won’t.”
Unlike Ain, Michele didn’t have a single button undone. He sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for Ain.
“In that case…” Hints of worry laced his voice, but in the end, Ain gave in. He slowly made his way over to Michele.
The curves of the female body—things like a slim waist and a full bust and bottom. Such curves were usually praised as beautiful. But Michele felt the same kind of admiration when he saw Ain. Was it because, although he was a man like Michele, he had held and enjoyed his body as though it were that of a woman?
However, to Michele, it was a beautiful body all the same.
A body woven with muscles without any flab. Even if it wasn’t as slender as a woman’s, the narrowing curves from his broad shoulders to his waist were undeniably of the same sort. His firm backside made you want to squeeze it, and his long legs… What kind of expression would Ain wear if Michele ever confessed these thoughts of his, which he had only kept to himself?
Ain climbed onto the bed and lay on his back, his torso leaning against heaps of pillows, giving the impression that his body was half raised. His pose resembled that of the goddesses in the paintings that hung in noble bedrooms. Perhaps unaccustomed to lying on such a luxurious bed, or simply because this seductive posture was far too uncomfortable, Ain repeatedly shifted around.
Michele made his way to his side, crawling on his knees. Wordlessly, Ain looked up at Michele, who cast a shadow across his chest.
“Now, I’m going to touch you the way it was described in the book,” Michele warned before beginning.
Before then, he had learned from Ain the method to hold a man. However, as he was still inexperienced, he wasn’t well versed in the ways of pleasure.
The methods in the book Ain had shown him were candid, lengthy, detailed, and so vivid that it felt as though he could see them with his own eyes—written to an almost obsessive degree. Though he still didn’t like the protagonist of the book, he was determined to actively learn his techniques.
“Alright. Then…” Ain gazed up at Michele with those blue eyes of his. “How were the women in that book? How should I imitate them?”
Michele was at a loss for words.
There were far too many women in the book for him to answer Ain’s question. There were women who purely felt pleased, women who felt disgraced, innocent women who were constantly embarrassed, and women who were lost in the throes of lust.
“…Just act as you normally do,” answered Michele, his face slightly flushed. It felt as though he were telling him that he simply wanted Ain himself.
“Yes, Sir Anatold.”
Thankfully, Ain’s response was calm, as if he hadn’t noticed. Michele looked into his blue eyes. Whether it was when they first met or now, they remained steadfast and loyal. Unlike his own, which had changed completely after getting to know Ain. That difference felt strangely painful.
Michele stretched a hand to touch Ain’s cheek. Unlike his inside, the parts that were always exposed to the exterior felt cold. Michele continued to gently touch his face until his skin warmed under the heat of his palm.
During his time in the South, Michele had seen countless statues and paintings. Even just within the garden of Anatold Castle, it was filled with sculptures depicting beautiful goddesses and courageous heroes.
Michele often climbed onto the statues and felt their faces. In terms of roughness, Ain’s face resembled that of a warrior statue. Despite the masculine concision of his features, there was a delicacy concealed throughout his face—his high nose, deep-set eyes, and the ends of his lips, drawn into a straight line.
Ain had his eyes closed. When Michele’s fingers caressed his ears, his eyelids fluttered slightly. Michele pressed a soft kiss on them.
He had to admit, though, that he had been aroused since the moment he had seen Ain’s naked body. However, he tried not to rush things like before. Tonight was for the sole purpose of pleasuring the other.
Michele kissed not only his lips but also his forehead, his cheeks, his chin, and everywhere else he could reach. His kisses were soft and ticklish, like the descent of flower petals.
Just then, Ain’s large hand wrapped around Michele’s neck, as he always did, to please Michele…
“Sir Anatold…?”
As he attempted to stroke his neck, Michele shook his head.
“You don’t need to do anything today,” he said as he lowered Ain’s hand to the bed.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“…Understood.”
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In the book, the neck was said to be a classic erogenous zone. Michele left red marks on Ain’s neck. He sank his teeth into his throat, feeling the warm skin and the slight trembling in his mouth.
“…Ngh.”
Michele nibbled gently at Ain’s collarbone and neck, careful not to hurt him. At the same time, he pressed down on the buds on his chest, eliciting more and more moans from Ain’s mouth.
“Do you like it when I touch your chest?” Michele asked.
“That’s…”
Perhaps because of the angle at which he tilted his head, Ain’s black hair fell over his eyes, obscuring his expression.
“…I’ve grown used to it,” Ain finished after a long while.
Michele gazed down at him. Just as a warrior charges into the next battle without giving their previous wounds a chance to heal, Ain’s body still bore traces of their previous encounter.
Michele’s inexperienced touch was rough at times. Rather than a caress, he would satisfy his desires through Ain’s body, unable to control his excitement. As a result, heavy traces were left on Ain’s skin. His chest in particular was covered with red marks, as it was the place where Michele would most often place his mouth without even noticing it himself. Perhaps that was why the ends of Ain’s pale nipples stood erect and swollen, unlike a man’s.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“…Hngh.”
Worried, Michele pressed down on the nipple with the tip of his finger. It certainly looked much redder than when he had first seen it.
“Ah… i-it’s not that… it’s just…”
“Just?”
“They’ve become sensitive after being touched so often…”
“Is it alright, then? You frown every time I touch it… I’m worried it’ll hurt.”
“…I’m fine.”
“Really?”
“Well, to be more precise… rather than feeling ticklish… I… like it,” Ain said before covering his face with his hand. “I can’t believe you made me say it with my own mouth… Sir Anatold, was this in the book as well?”
Michele’s face flushed red upon hearing those words. In the book, the protagonist skillfully seduced and humiliated women with his glib tongue.
“N-no way! It’s just that, I won’t know unless I hear it for myself… Besides, you told me last time that I should always express my thoughts in words…”
Compared to the shameless gentleman, Michele’s question was no different from a child’s prank. Still, he was visibly embarrassed.
“…Is that really why?” Ain’s throat bobbed, as if he were silently laughing.
“I’ll make you feel it in other places too… so you can experience the utmost pleasure.”
“Yes, Sir Anatold.”
“You must tell me if it hurts or if it doesn’t feel good because I’m touching too much, okay?”
“…Yes.”
“You’re really too quiet at times like this…”
With those words, Michele buried his face in Ain’s chest.
“Ah, ngh…!”
Ain’s permission brought him relief, and Michele bit into the nipple, taking the area around the areola into his mouth as well. He licked the nipple with his tongue and nibbled gently on it again and again. The reason he did this was because he noticed that Ain’s body would visibly tense whenever he touched the area, more so than when he touched anywhere else.
He devoured Ain’s chest as if he were sucking milk. Each time he took the nipple in his mouth and sucked, it made an embarrassing noise. He continued to lick around the areola like a cat lapping up milk. He pressed down on the hard nipple with the flat of his tongue, then lifted it again as the skin began to soften. It was one of the few delicate areas of Ain’s body.
“Ah, haah…”
He touched the other side of Ain’s chest with his fingers, enjoying the pleasant feel of the skin flush against his palm. With each pinch, using just enough force to avoid causing pain, Ain flinched. He pressed his thumb against the nub, rolling it around and pushing it into the areola.
But even if it was Ain’s most sensitive area, Michele knew he couldn’t linger there forever. After sucking to his heart’s content, he set aside his reluctance and pulled his mouth away. The nipple, now wet with saliva and taking on a glossy sheen, looked much redder than before.
Michele kissed the area between Ain’s chest, rubbing it with the bridge of his nose. Meanwhile, his hand caressed the hollow of Ain’s waist. He didn’t forget to slip his hand between the bedding and Ain’s back, incessantly stroking his spine.
The book was full of praise for the female body. A full and lovely chest, a soft and round stomach, and milky skin… However, Ain’s body was the complete opposite of such depictions.
His chest was flat, and his stomach was covered in firm muscle. Nevertheless, Michele proceeded with a gentle caress, as if he were handling something soft and fragile.
On the surface, it might have appeared as though a noble was serving someone so lowly as a servant. But it didn’t have to be that way. The more sincerity Michele showed, the more it felt like he was exploring and conquering every nook and cranny of a northern body.
Michele lingered on Ain’s abdomen for a long time, deliberately breathing warm breaths on his skin and even licking the hollow of his navel with his tongue.
“Ha… ah, ngh…!”
Ain flinched, likely due to its proximity to his privates. However, Michele didn’t immediately touch his cock. Instead, he diligently explored every area except that particular spot.
“Sir Anatold…”
Perhaps that was why Ain’s tone sounded different than usual, filled with disappointment.
“Ah…!”
Michele grabbed Ain’s ankle and raised it up. As his lower body was lifted, Ain’s private areas were completely exposed to Michele. He then hoisted one of Ain’s legs, tight and firm with muscle, over his shoulder.
“Hah, ugh…!”
As Michele bit into the inside of his thigh, Ain let out a muffled moan. Michele avoided touching Ain’s cock directly, only brushing past it each time he changed position. He persistently focused on attacking the surrounding areas. As heat built up in the most sensitive area, Ain’s breathing became more ragged.
“Sir Anatold, agh…! Ngh, Sir, Anatold…!”
All Ain could do was call out Michele’s name for no reason, his desire for Michele palpable. Each time, Michele felt the urge to grab Ain’s cock, rub it, and thrust into him. But he held himself back. He restrained himself, biting down on his lip. Because wanting Ain and pleasing Ain were two different things.
“Ain…”
It was only when he called Ain’s name that Michele became aware of the pain in his jaw. He hadn’t taken his mouth off Ain’s body for even a second. Michele got up from between Ain’s legs.
For some reason, Michele felt warm. He sighed and loosened the tie that was tight around his neck. Unlike Ain, who was fully bare, Michele hadn’t even removed a sock. Ain’s body, stiff as a rock at the start, had softened under Michele’s persistent, almost obsessive touch. It was a body that Michele had softened with the utmost care.
“…I haven’t even touched you once, yet it’s already in this state,” Michele said, gazing down at Ain’s cock.
“S-Sir Anatold…”
Ain tilted his head to the side. His cock didn’t lower, however, and stuck close to his stomach. As Michele persistently touched him, much like the women in the book, Ain’s cock impertinently grew in size.
“Seeing this, I guess men aren’t so different after all.”
“…Ugh!”
Michele carefully grabbed Ain’s cock and said, “Well, I suppose. Everyone likes the feeling of being loved…”
“Ah, aah…”
All he had done was hold him with his hand, but Ain’s body thrashed about wildly.
At that moment, Michele fully grasped the “strange feeling” he had experienced while suffering from the cold sickness, held within Ain’s arms. It was happiness and pride. How incredible it was that he, who had only ever learned from Ain, managed to gradually fluster and excite him.
“Sir, Anatold…” Ain could only call out his name, unable to resist in any way. Was it too much for him to only be on the receiving end, unlike usual?
“If you don’t want me to touch it, I won’t.”
“…Hngh…”
“But, it seems like it’s enjoying it, so… shall we continue?”
“…Ngh!”
Michele spoke as he rubbed the tip of Ain’s cock. Though it hadn’t yet reached its climax, a thick liquid was oozing from its tip.
“You don’t dislike it, do you?”
“Ah…!”
“…You do?”
Michele stared at Ain with his green eyes.
…There was no way he disliked it. His lower half was swollen, as if it were about to come at any moment, and it was simply inconceivable that Michele, who was a man just like him, wouldn’t know the truth. Despite knowing, Michele still made the effort to ask. Because if, by some slim chance, Ain truly did dislike it, Michele would have to stop. Michele longed for an affirmative answer. He wanted Ain to desire him completely.
“Ngh… you were like this earlier, too… but you’re a little… mischievous, today,” Ain said in a trembling voice, unable to hold back any longer.
“Yeah… they often spoke like this… in the novel, you know?”
“…Hngh!”
“If Lord Sheleg happens to like this kind of talk… I’ll have to work hard as well.”
“Ah…”
“And it seems like you like it too…”
“…Ah, aah…!”
Michele slowly stroked the cock in his hand as he spoke. His movements were minimal, just a gentle up-and-down motion, but fluid was already beginning to drip out. Was it because of his careful caress, or perhaps the shame his words evoked? Either way, Ain came much quicker than usual.
“Haa… ah, aah… ngh…!”
The moment Ain came, Michele covered the tip with his hand. Unlike before, when it had wet Ain’s abdomen, this time the semen soaked Michele’s palm.
“……”
The inside of Michele’s hand felt warm. It was Ain’s seed, spilled from the arousal caused by his caress. Ain had always been the one to excite and bring Michele to climax, but this time, it was the opposite…
Ain is aroused because of me.
Just like last time, I…
Michele swallowed.
He looked down at Ain and found him gasping for breath, his waist raised. The sight of his flushed chest, wet with saliva, looked far more obscene than the women in the book.
“You didn’t loosen yourself, just like I told you last time, right?”
Michele brought his hand close to his face. The thick, sticky fluid dripped from his hand to his wrist, clinging to his skin.
“Ugh… yes…” Ain, gasping for breath in the aftermath of his climax, nodded slowly.
“I see. Well done.” Michele praised, then brought his hand, soaked in semen, to his lower half.
Ain winced and shuddered as he felt a wet sensation between his rear. The tensing of his muscular thighs was visible to the naked eye. Michele teased the tightly sealed entrance with his sticky fingers. Unlike his body, which was relaxed by his climax, his entrance remained tight, allowing not even the slightest opening.
Michele carefully slid a single finger in, wary of hurting Ain. In preparation for today, he had cut his nails with a pair of scissors, rounding them off. The one who had trimmed his nails with such care was none other than Ain himself.
“S-Sir Anatold… ngh!”
Though it was no more than his middle finger, Ain had difficulty receiving it, unlike before. His entrance was so tight that it was almost inconceivable that a man’s erect penis had entered it before.
When he managed to get one knuckle in, Michele decided to just push the rest in. Unlike his cock, his fingers remained consistent in thickness, from the tip to the very base of them.
“I-if you push… ngh…! It in, so suddenly…”
Still, a deep furrow settled between Ain’s brows, seemingly uncomfortable with the foreign object.
“…S-sorry,” Michele quickly apologised. He had assumed that since it had accommodated a much larger cock, it would at least be able to tolerate a wet finger.
…Still, withdrawing the finger he had barely managed to insert would mean subjecting Ain to the same pain again, so he refrained from pulling it out immediately.
“…Does it hurt?” Michele asked worriedly, but Ain shook his head. Seeing his inability to reply, didn’t that mean he was already in considerable pain? Michele’s eyebrows drooped.
The women in the novel had become wet from the protagonist’s touch and could easily take the man. But Ain was a man. It was just that, before then, he had loosened himself in advance. His entrance was never intended to receive a man in the first place.
“I’m a-alright… but Sir Anatold’s hand is on the larger side… So please, go a little slower…”
“…Sorry.”
“…Since it’s your first time,” Ain managed to smile a little despite his furrowed brows.
“……”
Strangely enough, Michele felt his lower half fill with blood at the sight of Ain’s troubled smile. Michele bit down on his lip, trying to suppress his instincts.
“Since we need to loosen the entrance, don’t pull out all the way… Please go slowly.”
“…Okay.”
Having gained confidence from Ain’s words, Michele moved his finger slowly. He decided that, for a body that wasn’t wet, he simply needed to go “slow and steady” to moisten it, just as Ain had said. At this point, it was difficult for him to restrain his lower half with reason alone, but his determination not to see Ain in pain was enough to barely suppress it.
“Ngh… ugh…”
He repeatedly pushed in and pulled back, slow and deliberate, as if coaxing and reassuring him. Each time his third knuckle—the thickest part of his finger—entered and withdrew from the entrance, Ain struggled to suppress a sound.
It felt as if inserting his finger into the rain-soaked earth would feel softer than this. No matter how inexperienced he was for his first time, how could Ain have possibly managed to loosen himself on his own all this time with such a tight and uncomfortable body? Michele had no idea how much time and effort he devoted each and every day.
“Did you…” Michele began. How nervous he had been—it was only when he started to speak that he realised how chapped his lips were. “Usually do… this sort of thing by yourself?”
Michele inserted another finger.
“…Ngh… th… that’s…”
Ain gasped in an attempt to accept the other finger pushing inside him with more ease.
“You’re in so much pain, so…”
“Agh, ah…!”
“I thought that if you’d been doing this all by yourself, I must have been the only one unaware of your hardships all this time…”
“S-Sir Anato…”
Despite the kind tone of his voice, the number of fingers continued to increase, never diminishing. Ain’s hands roughly gripped the bedsheet, veins bulging on the backs of his hands—something even Michele could see. It wasn’t just his fists that were tense; his insides were as well. They clamped down on Michele’s fingers, refusing to let go, as if gripping them tightly.
“…Should I touch you some more?”
“…Hngh…!”
“Tell me if it gets too much. I’ll stop right away.”
Ain nodded, his eyes closed. Michele pushed deep inside, from the tips of his fingers to where his palm began, then pulled out to his second knuckle, repeating the motion. He didn’t forget to spread his fingers slightly inside him as well.
Michele’s wrist felt sore. All he had inserted were his fingers, yet Ain’s insides were so tight and warm that they brought back memories of their past encounters. The very act of holding back and not thrusting his cock into such a body was a miracle to Michele.
“Ain…”
Michele’s gaze fell between Ain’s legs as he bit down on his lower lip hard enough for them to redden.
“…Ain.”
His cock, which should have softened after he’d already ejaculated…
“…Haa, ngh!”
How come it was half-hard?
Unable to restrain himself any longer, Michele pulled out all of his fingers, causing a moan to escape from Ain’s mouth at the unexpected movement.
“Sir… Anatold…?”
Michele leaned down, bringing his face closer to Ain’s. He grabbed his shoulders and gently kissed him with his tattered lips.
“Mn…”
As soon as their lips touched, Ain licked Michele’s lips with his tongue. The surface of Michele’s lips was so coarse that it wouldn’t be strange if they started to bleed right away. It was a gentle kiss, no different from licking his wounds. But the act of licking such sensitive skin, on the verge of being torn, only served to heighten Michele’s desire.
“Ngh, Ain…”
“…Haa, yes?”
“Thank you,” Michele said after the long kiss.
“…Pardon?”
“You had to endure such difficult things every day because of me. So… thank you.”
Michele’s cheeks reddened. Of course, Michele knew it as well—Ain’s actions were the result of Lord Sheleg’s orders, and Ain, as a servant, was only faithfully following his instructions. Obedience and service were virtues necessary for a servant. For this reason, Michele rarely thanked his servants, as it was his rightful expectation as their master.
However, witnessing Ain endure such pain, Michele suddenly felt compelled to express gratitude. He was grateful for all the suffering Ain had borne, solely for the sake of receiving and teaching him.
“…There’s no need for you to praise me.”
“But…”
Ain looked straight at Michele with his blue eyes. “I was simply fulfilling my natural duty as his servant.”
His eyes were red at the corners, and his lips moist, yet his voice remained firm and unwavering.
“…Is that so?”
Michele’s eyebrows drooped. For some reason, those words stung. He felt a pang of hurt for reasons even he couldn’t quite grasp.
…He knew that Ain was not his servant. Still, was it necessary for him to speak in such a cutting manner?
“Yeah… you…”
…are Lord Sheleg’s servant—it felt as if his desire, which had burned intensely in his throat just moments ago, had now cooled to a chill.
“…Yeah, because this is your duty.”
“Yes. Although you’re still a bit clumsy when it comes to preparing with your fingers, if you continue to be as gentle as you were today, my master will surely… ngh.”
Michele kissed him again. This time, he didn’t lick his lips or tangle their tongues; he simply pressed his lips to Ain’s, using the kiss to silence Ain’s words.
“…Sir Anatold.”
It was a sort of command. Ain, aware of his role as a mere servant, obeyed and shut his mouth.
“……”
His blue eyes silently awaited the next command. His gaze was calm, devoid of suspicion or curiosity. He was a “servant” who obediently followed every order.
Ain was the naked one. Michele hadn’t even removed the tie around his neck. Yet, it felt as though his emotions were being laid bare under that cold gaze.
When a young man confesses his ardent love to a beautiful lady—or when a child awaits an answer from a revered goddess—that very moment! Was this how it felt to be greeted with a cold gaze, a callous voice, and icy, mocking laughter instead of a smile…?
“…Then, bear with it, even if it hurts. Because you’re a servant.”
Feeling inexplicably angry, Michele lowered the front of his pants. His cock sprung out, looking painfully hard.
“If that is also a duty you must fulfil.”
Michele grabbed his erection, not bothering to fully remove his pants, and positioned it at Ain’s entrance.
“Sir Anatol… ngh!”
No matter how much time and effort he put into loosening him, a man’s erect penis couldn’t compare to a couple of fingers. Perhaps Ain was tense, as Michele’s length stopped right at the entrance, unable to penetrate easily. Still, in an attempt to go deeper, Michele grabbed Ain’s waist and pulled him closer.
“Ugh…!”
Michele gritted his teeth. A small amount of pain always accompanied him whenever he entered Ain. It wasn’t easy to thrust into such a warm, narrow passage. Yet, once he endured that initial pain, a pleasure like no other awaited him. Completely taken with this sensation, he now welcomed the pain with a touch of excitement.
“Ah… ngh…!”
Ain must have been far more affected by the pain of being penetrated. Thrust into all at once, he threw his head back, his body jerking as he couldn’t even manage a moan.
But Michele didn’t hold back. Each time Ain barely managed to let out a breath, Michele pushed inside him, inch by inch, refusing to wait. It seemed that such an action made it difficult for Ain to breathe, causing only repeated, interrupted gasps to escape from his open mouth.
“Hngh…. haa, ngh…”
“…Ain…”
“…Ah…!”
Michele closed his eyes, finding the sight too pitiful. He focused solely on entering him. The tight walls, resisting even the slightest intrusion, felt similar to Ain. Despite having slept together for several days, several times…
He repeatedly pushed in, and once he felt he could go no further, Michele opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Ain’s bottom and perineum, the pale hair around his cock almost touching the area, indicating how deep he was inside him.
“It’s… all in.”
Though inexperienced, perhaps due to the time and care he had put into loosening him, no blood was spilled. There was a frown on Ain’s face, deeply focused on taking Michele inside. He looked pained, as if he had been stabbed by a knife. He took repeated breaths—the only thing he could manage—and put in the effort to accept Michele as part of himself.
“…Ain?”
Ain had his arm over his mouth, trying to resist the pain. Michele leaned over and moved his arm.
“Hngh…!”
It wasn’t intentional, but when he leaned forward, he ended up going even deeper. A moan, bordering on pain, escaped from Ain’s mouth as his cover was torn away.
Michele grabbed his wrist and held it tight, remaining inside Ain for a long time. The corners of Ain’s eyes were so wet that it wouldn’t seem strange for tears to gather in them, and his face looked much redder than usual. To think that he was in so much pain…
…and for them to sleep together in such a violent manner, it seemed more like an outlet for anger than anything else.
“Ain.”
“…Ngh, yes?”
“Look at me.”
“…Alright.”
Blue eyes turned to Michele. Despite summoning the courage to express his appreciation, Ain’s cold demeanour, drawing a line between them, ignited Michele’s anger. He felt like a child who had eagerly run to his mother to boast something, only to be denied even a glance.
“Ain…”
But when he saw how hard he was struggling to hold on, with Michele inside him, his momentary anger immediately evaporated. All that remained were feelings of remorse and pity for his rough treatment. Like a male beast comforting a groaning female, he planted several kisses on Ain’s arm.
“Sorry…”
“Agh…”
After apologising several times to the servant, Michele began to move his hips. It wasn’t just to satisfy his own mounting desire, nor was it out of greed for pleasure. He wanted to hurry, impatient to make Ain feel good as well.
“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to hurt… ngh…”
“Ah, agh… S-Sir Ana… told… hng…!”
“Ain… haa… you didn’t do anything wrong…”
At first, his moans were filled with pain, but as the sound of skin slapping against skin accelerated, they slowly became sweeter. Michele had experienced the process of pain gradually diluting into pleasure with each thrust, yet it still struck him as strange. For pain to be transformed into something pleasurable, it felt like sinking into a heated swamp.
“Hng, aah, agh…!”
Holding one of Ain’s legs, Michele thrust into him. Like a captive beast, Ain offered no resistance, accepting both the pain and pleasure Michele inflicted upon him. No, it wasn’t that Ain couldn’t resist, it was that he chose not to. He could have used his hands or his strength to break free of the embrace, but instead he chose to clench the sheets and cover his face with his arm again.
“Ah, agh, Sir A, na, told…!”
Ain took him without pushing him away or refusing him. He doesn’t hate it… he likes it. He’s happy to be held by me. His cock, growing larger even as he was being thrust inside, was proof of it. Hearing his name spill from Ain’s lips couldn’t have sounded any sweeter.
“Are you, alright?”
“Hngh…!”
“Are you… ugh, really, alright…?”
“Y-yes… ah, aah!”
Ain nodded repeatedly, perhaps because he couldn’t help himself or perhaps because it was the truth. His moans clung to Michele’s ears with the stickiness of honey. It was undeniable proof of his pleasure. This place, so narrow that it was difficult to even enter, became easier to move inside as semen coated its walls, repeatedly fucked by a cock.
The thrusts became rougher, driven by the desire to penetrate deeper than before. Michele’s pace quickened until the squelching noises and the sound of skin against skin became explicit to their ears. He thrust into Ain’s sensitive spot, remaining deeply embedded inside.
“Hngh… ah, ngh…!”
Each time he pressed against his sensitive spot, Ain’s body trembled to a noticeable degree. Michele shifted his weight onto Ain, remembering what Ain had taught him, and plunged deep inside, gently moving his hips as he repeatedly pressed against the area. Ain’s cock was visibly hard, and a cloudy liquid oozed from its tip. Michele’s vision began to blur. It was unfortunate, but men were designed to wear their emotions on their sleeves.
“Don’t, keep… pressing against, that… Sir Anato… it feels weird… ah!”
In the end, Ain’s hands clung to Michele’s shoulders. Feeling as if he had a leash around his neck, pulling him down, Michele continued to thrust into him.
It was strange. Everything was. Strange that it felt more pleasurable than before, even though he was holding someone down and taking them as he pleased. Equally strange was the other’s excitement in the midst of such violent thrusts. Humans were composed of body and mind, but when they lay, the two became separate. Their bodies clung to each other, and their souls tightly intertwined, connecting them and fusing them into one great whole.
“Ain… A, in…!”
Perhaps it was because they had slept with each other too often. In that case, the way he was aroused by Ain, almost like a trained dog, might also be…
“…Hn, ngh—!”
At that moment, Ain’s insides clamped around Michele, as if aiming to crush him. Michele furrowed his brows. In a way, this pain was something Michele had brought upon himself. Because he was pressing down on the tip of Ain’s cock, preventing him from reaching orgasm.
“Ain… you’re so, tight…!”
Michele called Ain’s name. He clung onto him, like a person with nothing to call out except his name. Because he was holding back Ain’s release, Ain’s insides tightened even more than before, incomparably so. So tight that it was difficult for Michele to withdraw his hips and plunge back inside. So, as he continued to thrust, Michele had to shift his weight onto Ain.
“Ah, hngh, ah… agh, ngh…!”
Michele buried his face in Ain’s chest. Ain gasped roughly for breath, and each time he did, the pounding of his heart echoed in Michele’s ears.
“Ain… hng…”
Michele rubbed his face against Ain’s chest, like a child acting spoiled towards its mother. Even though he had never been held in the arms of his mother before, with the exception of his nanny.
“Please call… my name.”
“Hngh—pardon…?”
“Please call me, by my name…”
“Sir… Sir Ana, told…?”
“Hurry…”
With each of Michele’s urgings, the area that bound them tightened even more.
“Agh…!”
Ain just let out a ragged breath, offering no reply. Michele kept his face buried in Ain’s chest as he reached up with his hand.
It slid up Ain’s body, feeling around for what it was looking for, for his hand didn’t have eyes. It held Ain’s neck, crawled all the way to his jaw, and finally traced his lips with its fingers.
That way, even if Ain couldn’t speak because his voice was too hoarse, Michele would still be able to read his answer from the movements of his lips.
…However, Ain didn’t say a thing.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t speak; he simply chose not to answer Michele’s request.
“…Ngh!”
Michele tightened his grip on the hand holding Ain’s cock. Ain’s mouth opened, and a sudden moan escaped from his lips.
…So he really didn’t lose his voice. That’s good. Michele felt relieved. But only for a second.
“…Can’t you?”
“S-Sir Anatold…”
“Why…”
“Agh…!”
“Why, can’t you…?”
Every time Michele tormented his front, preventing him from finishing, Ain’s waist squirmed. It was painful for Michele as well, feeling as though his cock might be severed from the excessive force Ain was exerting.
“Ngh…”
Michele slowly pulled his hips back. Ain’s body trembled as he felt the sensation of the cock that filled his stomach slowly slip out.
“—Ah… agh!”
And just as the tension left Ain’s body, Michele thrust his hips back in. He resumed his pace and stroked Ain’s cock with a firm, almost painful grip.
“Haa… ah, hnn… ngh, haa…!”
All that Ain could manage were broken moans, more like breaths, but he never once called out Michele’s name. Just once, once would have been enough for Michele, but Ain, as a mere servant, didn’t fulfil even that one request.
But, on the other hand, he knew the reason why—because Michele wasn’t his master.
Because he was just the person who would become his master’s husband…
“Ugh, Ain…!”
A relationship akin to a tug-of-war, only pulling tightly at each other. Michele was the first to give in. Much like in the South, he lacked the temperament to win against others. Overwhelmed by the climax that burned all the way to the tip of his throat, he came inside Ain.
At the same time, Michele released his grip. Ain’s semen splattered on his stomach and even soiled Michele’s sleeve. But he didn’t have the luxury to worry about such minor details. Ain’s inner walls tightened around Michele’s cock, as if trying to squeeze out every last drop of his seed.
Within the room, there were no longer the rough sounds of skin against skin, wet squelching, or the bed creaking. Only the intertwined breaths of the two. Just like their bodies, still connected even after they reached climax and released.
“…Sir Anatold.”
It was only after some time had passed that Ain’s voice finally reached Michele’s ears. However, Michele didn’t immediately register it. His ears were ringing from the rush of blood and his own heavy breathing. Ain called out to him in a gentle manner, just as he always did in Michele’s mind. So, even now, Michele thought he was hearing things.
“Sir Anatold.”
…It seemed he wasn’t hearing things after all.
Michele lifted his head. Ain appeared like a limp cotton doll drenched in water after finishing twice beneath Michele. No, he resembled the noblewomen in novels—languid after a satisfying lie with a man.
Even if a noblewoman no longer possessed the same sparkling youth as a young lady, their languid form alone was more than enough to keep a man under their thumb—a line from the book <Love> suddenly came to mind. For some reason, Michele seemed to grasp its meaning with his entire being… if it applied to men as well, that is.
“I believe this is enough now.”
Just then, Ain began to speak. Though his body was limp, his eyes remained as clear and cold as ever.
“What… do you mean?”
Instead, Michele’s eyes, brimming with energy, began to tremble with anxiety.
“You’ve become proficient now, and… the promised month is almost over.”
“What do you…” It was impossible for Michele not to know what he meant. But Michele repeated his question, refusing to admit it.
“…Sir Anatold has now become an exemplary man who will surely be able to please my master. Therefore, there’s no need for you to maintain this practice relationship with a servant like myself any longer. It would be best to await my master’s return for the remaining time.”
And as a consequence of his refusal to admit, he heard the words he least wanted to hear.
“Alright,” Michele replied.
There were over a hundred valid reasons to heed Ain’s words. On the other hand, there wasn’t a single reason to refuse them.
On the surface, that is.
orcinus comments:
I’m genuinely so happy I get a break from tling smut I might even go buy a small cake to celebrate my temporary freedom
Moving on, 72% through volume 1!! I’m not sure if anyone’s noticed, but on the homepage of the novel, it’s written that volume 1’s title is “The Guest Who Came From a Warm Country.” Volumes 2 to 4 are titled “The Stranger Who Returned to a Cold Country,” and the remaining volumes (5 to 8, aka extras) have their own titles as well 
Chapter 6 will be split into parts like the other chapters, and hopefully with smaller intervals between releases unlike today’s chapter haha
SO.MUCH.SMUT. 😳😂 The first volume should be called The Sexual Education of Sir Anatold. Thanks for the chapter.
Michel got a high score in Ain’s evaluation, jejejeje, and the prize was a kick in the butt and no more practice