Chapter 67
VII. A Victory Toast
Click— Click— The fingers that had pried open the parted front fell lower. Raking down his skin as if to tear his shirt, pop pop pop, the buttons met their demise in an instant.
“Haahk, hahk…”
His chest rose and fell heavily. All the buttons below his chest were torn off, and the firmly locked shape above reminded her of a cloak, evoking memories of their reunion. Stubbornly, he still maintained the posture of legs spread and hands clasped behind his back. Jeina sipped wine as her eyes meticulously traced the breathtakingly agile and thick physique. Red wine sloshed in her hand as she walked lightly around the man.
“Ah, sweet.”
The night was so, so sweet. Even if she drank the entire bottle, her mind remained sharp and her energy overflowed.
“Jei, I’m, ho…ome… plea, uh, ht, please…”
At his desperate gaze, she finally drew out her fan. But whether she would pull him out of this quagmire of pleasure or shove him deeper was unknown.
“Haa… Master… Please, ah, ah, ugh, huk, I’ll be good, okay?”
As her hand not holding the glass reached out towards him, he groaned even more, fidgeting restlessly. Gritting his teeth and grunting, the unwavering posture he had maintained showed signs of crumbling. He trembled as if about to lurch forward any moment, and his feet, flat on the floor, seemed to be fidgeting.
“Huaa…!”
As Jeina’s fan slowly stroked his undulating Adam’s apple, he let out a hot sigh and trembled at the waist. His member, full of anticipation, gave a fierce nod.
Next, the fan, delving inside his widely open shirt, swept over his armpits, his latissimus dorsi, the connected side, and the small of his back, all without leaving his skin.
With every movement of hers leaving a vivid red line like a brand, he writhed and moaned.
“Ahhk, hhu-un, ssto, hot…!”
“What? Speak properly. Is it hot?”
With a wicked smile, she then tapped the area below the glans of the man’s member with the fan. He flinched, startled, and gave his answer.
“Ung!”
“Really? If it’s hot, I should cool you down.”
Shwaak— Spreading the fan, she gave a light one, two, three fans. And the moment she fluttered the fan a third time, suddenly a fierce wind rushed around her.
“Kyahk!”
Outside, noble ladies caught by the sudden, unannounced gust of wind hurriedly clutched at their wildly fluttering dresses as if they might fly away.
Lately, what she had felt while using magic was that it ultimately depended on how well one utilized the scattered mana around. The vaster the mana, the greater the magical power, the more immense the power of the mana one could draw became. But the most important thing was drawing in the mana of other beings and balancing it with one’s own. Jeina smiled quietly, feeling her own mana harmonizing with the surrounding things. Finally, the time had come to have a true bodily conversation with him. And this time, more perfectly than ever before. Even in this moment of grasping the principle of magic, she looked at the man before her, focused on only one thought.
“Ughk, uuuughk!”
He trembled violently, releasing a viscous fluid. The last two remaining buttons, even the cravat that had tightly wrapped his neck, were flung far away by the wind, and his front lay wide open.
“Ahh, aah…”
The wind ceased, and the fluttering shirt settled down. Ronius closed his eyes and finally released the breath that had seemed to stop for a moment.
“Haaa…”
He shuddered again and again from the pleasure that had swept over his entire body in an instant. Despite the commotion, both hands remained firmly on his lower back, and his legs, though awkwardly, stayed spread at a constant distance. However, the upright object was slowly drooping its head, spilling thick, sticky fluid.
Still lost in the sense of liberation, he opened his closed eyes.
His mind was so far gone he had no chance to avert his gaze or think of an excuse. Jeina was standing imposingly right in front of him. With her eyes narrowed into crescents, wearing a smile bright enough to illuminate the world.
“Je, Ina…”
He gulped. Though not much time had passed since their reunion, he knew the meaning of that smile. Even if his mind didn’t, at least his body knew for sure. Past experiences had taught him. As the tremors gradually subsided, he clenched the hands behind his back.
The corners of her eyes and mouth soundlessly returned to their original positions.
“Attention.”
A stern voice followed. Whether it was the ingrained habit of a knight, even in that state, he unconsciously moved his arms to his sides and his left foot next to his right. Soon after, the shame of his knees pressed together made his whole body burn.
Seeing him like that, she lifted only one corner of her mouth and said.
“Again.”
And then, “Attention.”, “At ease.”, “Attention.”… she drilled him like a low-ranking knight.
“Sit.”
He felt like he’d become a lowly knight, then
“Stand.”
Sometimes, it just felt like he was a dog. Yet, he carried out her orders without complaint, becoming intoxicated by a subtle pleasure. Soon, the tingling tips of his feet and the heat filling him below felt ridiculous and shameful.
“Forward, march!”
He marched his feet, trying to be dignified and imposing, despite the floor soiled with s***n and the organ that showed signs of twitching again. He would absolutely not let out a moan, for the honor of a knight, the pride of a Sword Master. He would show her he was still a man. Making such futile resolves, his jaw clenched tightly.
On this fine moonlit night, the real training began.
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