HPV 51

Banwes slowly drew closer.

His left hand came up and cupped the side of his face.

It wasn’t as if this was the first or second time, yet the heat of his lips was so scaldingly hot that Riarun’s eyes opened wide in shock.

His tongue slipped between his parted lips.

The wet, sucking sounds—chuup, smooch—of flesh and saliva meeting echoed without pause.

Even though Banwes had already filled the small mouth with his own heated flesh, he kept trying to push in further.

Kiss, kiss—the kiss deepened, as if he were trying to devour him whole.

Riarun’s head finally sank into the bed behind him, and over him, the heavy shadow of the man loomed.

If anyone were to open the door now, they would unmistakably witness a scene of a slender body pinned and tangled beneath another on the bed.

The kiss was longer than before. And more relentless.

Riarun’s throat trembled violently as he swallowed the overflowing saliva.

No, his whole body was trembling.

Every time his tongue pressed down against the tender mucosa, a shudder ran through him.

Was it just his imagination?

It felt like the kisses were growing longer and longer each time.

Gasping for air, Riarun squeezed out his voice when their sticky lips briefly parted.

“Aren’t you… done yet?”

Banwes slowly opened his eyes.

Riarun met his red gaze.

His eyes looked strange—the dazed expression of someone drunk.

Not like he was performing a duty, but as if this were something entirely different.

It had been like this the last time too, when he had suddenly woken up.

It was dangerous.

A searing heat surged through his body, pulling hard from below where the demon’s vile aura had been drawn out.

Riarun shook his head in an attempt to pull away,but the man seized his small head in his palm and drew him even closer.

Their deepened kiss swallowed up his whimpering moans.

When Riarun squeezed his eyes shut, Banwes slowly opened his red ones.

The brat’s face was red and twisted, just like prey caught by a predator.

Banwes thought, Maybe I really am devouring him.

He never drank human blood.

The mere thought of it was horrifying.

He didn’t want to see Riarun suffer either.

Which meant, he must truly be insane.

How else could he explain the fact that he was curious about the taste of the soft cheek he was holding?

If he could, he would bite down—hard.

He didn’t want to eat him.

So why did he want to put him in his mouth?

Riarun gasped harshly, whimpering pitifully.

Afraid the boy might suffocate, Banwes finally lifted his lips slightly.

He didn’t give much time, knowing that if it was interrupted halfway, the demon’s absorption wouldn’t succeed properly.

Without thinking, the man’s gaze dropped lower.

His red irises glistened, his pupils dilating.

He saw it clearly—the center of Riarun’s thin pajama trousers bulging outward.

Even the top part was slightly wet, a darker shade than the rest.

Now, truly, he couldn’t understand it.

Feeling the urge to put in his mouth the lower half of another man—how vulgar, how obscene. A hot, rough breath leaked from Banwes’s nose.

He, too, was being tortured by the aftertaste of their kiss, and he couldn’t help but follow the impulse.

With half-lidded eyes, he reached down—his hand gently pressing over the swollen front.

“Uuh…!”

An indecent moan escaped, one Riarun had never made before.

He jerked backward as if seizing up, staring up at Banwes with stunned eyes.

Banwes found himself panicking.

“I… I just accidentally put my hand there.”

Unable to find a real excuse, he lied again.

He couldn’t face Riarun’s protests.

So he hurriedly covered his lips with Rialune’s once more.

A much longer time passed before he finally pulled away.

Riarun, dazed, sucked in breath after breath, his gaze unfocused.

His lips were swollen red, to the point that he had to use his spirit’s power to soothe them.

Banwes turned his eyes away from the disheveled figure, sinking into grim thoughts.

He wasn’t deliberately prolonging the kisses.

The demon was simply becoming harder and harder to pull out.

Every day, it clung tighter to its host, strengthening its hold.

One day, a kiss might not be enough to extract the demon anymore.

And when that happened, this pale, fragile body would rot away without a moment’s reprieve, losing its original life force.

Right now, he could still transfer the demon safely to himself.

But when he thought about the future, he felt helpless.

Unknowingly, Banwes had come to think of the demon’s extraction as his own responsibility.

Meanwhile, Riarun, having come back to his senses, sat up on the bed and pulled the blanket over himself.

His lower body seemed uncomfortable, his movements awkward.

He realized, in shock, that a certain unspeakable fluid had dampened the front of his pants.

Even though Banwes wasn’t pressing for answers, Riarun panicked and hurried to explain.

“…You said demons incite human lust and desire, right? So when you’re transferring the demon, the one who’s holding it… ends up, kind of, like this…”

It was the second time.

The second time Riarun had been caught getting hard during a kiss.

He tried to sound analytical as he defended himself.

“You understand, right? I’m sure your senses get heightened too when you’re transferring the demon.”

“Enough.”

The man’s lips parted and a flat voice spilled out.

Riarun’s eyes widened.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Someone’s coming.”

Only then did Riarun snap his mouth shut, and at that very moment, the door opened from outside.

—

The hero and the mage rushed back to the fencing tournament grounds.

The place was now a whirlwind of confusion.

People were murmuring about the theft that had happened right before their eyes.

Some were even trying to catch the culprit themselves, keeping a close eye on those moving about.

Paronai showed the empty prize box to Bzhan.

The boy hiding nearby was invisible, but somehow, a murderous aura seemed to radiate from him, as if saying, “You really made me do this crap?”

The boy had scattered elven powder into the air to track the lingering scent of the liquor.

It was possible because the stolen liquor was a rare and potent dwarf brew.

Elves, having long been bitter rivals with dwarves, were the best in the world at tracking them.

Bzhan moved following the scent trail of the liquor.

Since he refused to match his pace to anyone else, Paronai and Penzey had to sprint at full speed to keep up.

Even while running so fast the scenery blurred past them, the two managed to talk.

“Why are we always like this? Maybe we’re just destined to get caught up in every mess.”

“Maybe you’re just born with a hero’s fate.”

One who cannot turn away from the suffering of the outcast.

They raced through the dukedom, and Bzhan finally stopped in front of a small, isolated house.

A rough wooden fence and patches of sparse grass surrounded it.

It looked like an old, poorly maintained house.

Without realizing it, Paronai took a step forward.

Through the window, he caught a glimpse of what was happening inside.

“That’s… the liquor thief?”

It was a familiar face.

Someone who had been there at the beginning and end of the fencing tournament.

The one who had shouted the loudest when the liquor went missing.

It was the very organizer of the fencing tournament.

And in his hand was the shining silver-gray bottle of liquor.

Penzey, seeming somewhat unsurprised, waited leisurely behind Paronai with his hands behind his back.

Paronai opened his mouth in shock but froze at the scene that followed.

“Father, please drink this.”

A sick old man lay in bed.

The tournament organizer no longer wore the playful expression from earlier—he now simply looked like a grim young man, a son.

He poured a single glass from the bottle and offered it to his father.

Paronai watched for a moment, then signaled to Penzey.

Penzey shrugged.

Without saying anything, they turned and left.

Time passed.

At the tournament grounds, the organizer was loudly celebrating, as if he were a completely different person.

He announced that the stolen liquor had been found.

Paronai, pretending to know nothing, accepted the bottle with a bright smile.

It looked as full as it had at the beginning.

Chatting with Penzey as they walked back, he said—

“A little water in the liquor doesn’t ruin its effect, right?”

“The taste’ll suffer, though.”

“No, it’s fine. Ria’s bad with alcohol, remember? If anything, watering it down will make it easier for him to drink.”

“I guess that means I won’t even get a sip—because the taste’ll be ruined.”

Though Penzey grumbled, Paronai felt proud of his decision.

In high spirits, he returned imagining Riarun drinking the liquor and perking right up—only to find—

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner someone was coming?!”

“I did. Just now.”

“Way too late! You’re supposed to warn me at least when they’re stepping into the yard!”

Riarun was squabbling with Banwes.

From the way they were yelling at each other, two things were clear:

First, Riarun was absolutely furious;

Second, he seemed completely recovered from his fever.

“I-I brought the liquor….”

Paronai, looking dazed, made Penzey chuckle under his breath.

Riarun finally closed his mouth.

After seeing Paronai and Penzey’s faces, the tension in his body eased, and the telltale signs below had disappeared as if nothing had happened.

He realized that all he needed to do was change his pants.

Hoping his face wasn’t bright red, he quietly headed to the bathroom.