Past noon, Leira unconsciously smiled at the cool breeze before his expression hardened at the crisp voice cutting through the lazy afternoon forest.
“Leira, touch me.”
The owner of that rich baritone—Edwin—sat sprawled on a tree stump, chin propped in his hand, as if he’d just made the most casual request in the world.
“…What?”
Leira faltered, doubting his own ears, and took a step back. This wasn’t new; he’d grown numb to Edwin’s shameless demands, delivered in that same vacant tone. Meanwhile, Edwin nonchalantly fondled his own thigh—or rather, the thick cock draped over it, already half-hard and swelling with the girth of a damn tree stump.
“This.”
This fucking lunatic. Here we go again.
Leira’s aristocratic brow—flawless, as if he’d never so much as smudged his own fingers—furrowed so deeply it might never unfold. The timing, the place, the audacity—none of it surprised him anymore. He glanced down at his spring leather boots.
Should I stomp on it with my muddy sole? Tempting, but impractical. As Leira hesitated, Edwin urged him on.
“Hurry up.”
With a resigned sigh, Leira dragged his feet toward Edwin, radiating refusal with every step. Edwin’s eyebrow twitched upward at the display. Born into a ducal family, heir to a bloodline of pure nobility, yet Leira always felt like a gutter rat whenever those eyes landed on him. Just as he knelt, Edwin yanked him onto his lap.
No backrest, spine ramrod straight—Edwin’s posture was as unyielding as the iron slabs of his abs. Even through the slightly thickened pants (the forest air still chilly), the press of that monstrous cock against Leira’s backside was impossible to ignore. He hadn’t even started, and already Leira’s stomach churned. He feigned wiping his mouth, hiding his grimace.
“Want me to suck you off?”
“….”
Leira’s voice died in his throat. How the hell was this degenerate the Earl’s heir? Granted, the Earl and his wife had only one child, but their judgment was severely in question. Ignoring Leira’s silent tirade, Edwin’s hand slithered into his pants like a snake, groping him as if he owned him. Typical thug behavior, Leira thought, not for the first time.
“Th-that—”
“If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
“You said to touch—”
“Changed my mind.”
Arguing with Edwin in this state was pointless. Experience had taught Leira that resistance only prolonged the inevitable. Better to get it over with. He slumped against Edwin’s chest, surrendering.
“Nngh—”
In moments, his pale, round ass was bared to the open air, his pink cock already leaking under rough handling. Edwin hooked an arm under Leira’s knee, lifting him, and there it was—his hole, twitching and exposed in the middle of the damn woods, not a leaf to hide it.
Edwin’s body was a contradiction: sculpted like a marble masterpiece, every line so refined you’d never guess his hands were thick enough to palm a melon, veins bulging like ropes. Those fingers—one of which could swallow two of Leira’s—plunged inside without hesitation, stretching him obscenely.
“Ah, n-no, I hate this—ahhhn—!”
“Hate it? Then why’re you dripping like a broken faucet?”
“Nn—hah—!”
Since their first night—since Edwin had claimed him—he’d learned every ridge of Leira’s insides by touch alone. A few shallow thrusts, and already Leira was soaking the underbrush, his fluids dripping down his thighs. Edwin crooked his fingers, pressing against that swollen spot inside—
“HAH—!”
Leira’s body convulsed, his golden hair a mess as he collapsed forward, ass in the air, hole clenching around nothing. His thighs trembled; he couldn’t even stay upright. Edwin studied his slick fingers before popping them into his mouth, savoring the taste. Leira’s fluids always smelled like overripe fruit, decadent—fitting for a born whore.
“Your cunt reeks. Skip your morning bath?”
Leira’s ears burned crimson. He glared over his shoulder, hole still gaping, fluids glistening, and it only made him look more pathetic. Edwin bit back a smirk (for Leira’s dignity, of course) and pretended to inhale deeply from his fingers. Sure enough, Leira scrambled forward, cock bobbing, voice shrill.
“D-don’t—! Stop it!”
He clung to Edwin’s wrist—twice the size of his own—voice cracking. “Y-you’re the Earl’s heir! At least pretend to have some decency!”
“For who?”
The flat reply stole Leira’s breath. He stuttered, indignant, but Edwin just stared at him, unimpressed. Here they were, not in some crowded academy hallway where whispers of “The Earl’s heir covets the Duke’s treasures” could ruin reputations, but in the middle of the woods, with Leira’s ass on full display, smelling like sex.
Edwin, for his part, was baffled. If Leira’s cunt smelled, what did he expect? It wasn’t like he could help it. Still, the injustice of it all gnawed at him.
“Guess I’ll have to suck it clean.”
“W-what?”
Leira’s jaw dropped. Before he could protest, Edwin spread his outer coat on the damp earth (courtesy of yesterday’s rain) and shoved Leira onto it. Stripping him fully was a hassle, but shoving his pants down to his knees did the trick—ass in the air, hole on display.
Leira’s hands fluttered uselessly, trying to cover himself like a kitten batting at its own paws. Edwin swatted them away. Then his tongue was inside, lapping at the slick walls, and Leira’s body melted. Hairless, glossy as cherry pudding, his hole sucked Edwin’s tongue deeper, flooding with more fluid. Edwin groaned, saliva mixing with Leira’s arousal as he drank him down.
Leira would never admit it, but he was a fucking fountain. Sometimes Edwin swore he produced more than his own cum. If he plugged him up, he could probably use it for an enema. The thought made his cock throb—later. For now, he lapped like a man starving, nose buried in Leira’s ass, wishing he could shove his whole head inside.
One hand kneaded Leira’s trembling cheeks like soft cheese while the other freed his own cock—thick as a stallion’s, the girth of a woman’s forearm, the length of his own foot (which Leira had once called “ship-sized” in a moment of bitterness). It took effort just to pull it free from his pants.
When he pressed the head against Leira’s hole, Leira shrieked.
“NO!”
“….”
Edwin hadn’t even said anything yet, but the intent was clear. After yesterday’s incident in the stables—where Leira had ended up mounted like a mare in heat—his panic was understandable. His hole was still swollen, puckered like bruised lips.
Edwin hesitated. Patience. He withdrew—slightly.
“Fine. Won’t fuck your cunt.” A pause. “Lick my cock instead.”
“L-lick?!”
Leira’s pupils dilated in horror. Edwin just nodded, as if offering him a gift.
“No!”
“Why? You leak like a sieve when I’m inside you.”
As if you don’t love it. His tone was maddeningly casual. He smacked his cock against Leira’s palm like a treat, then tilted his head—Well? What’re you waiting for?
Defeated, Leira parted his lips, wrapping them around the monstrous head. His hands couldn’t even close around the shaft. He stuck out his tongue, probing the slit, knowing if he didn’t, that thing would find its way into his ass again.
I have to stop it.
His jaw ached from stretching, drool pooling, seeping into Edwin’s urethra. The veins along the shaft pulsed, pre-cum beading, but Edwin showed no sign of coming. Of course not. He loved drawing this out, making Leira beg, reducing him to tears before finally unleashing—if he felt like it.
Bastard. Sadist.
Leira had lost count of the times he’d sobbed, “Please, just come!” only for Edwin to smirk and edge him for hours. When he did finish, it felt like holy water after a drought—Leira had choked it down more than once, eyes watering, laughing like a broken doll.
“Tired?”
“Mmm—”
Leira whimpered, tongue screaming. He’d managed maybe half an inch—a fingernail’s width—but Edwin looked dissatisfied. That horse cock twitched, fully hard, yet his face was impassive. No flush, no urgency. Just… boredom.
Desperate, Leira pulled back with a wet pop.
“W-why won’t you come?!”
“You want me to?”
The question hit like a slap. Want? Yes. No. Fuck. Their definitions of “good” were worlds apart—like the distance from the capital to the ends of the earth. Leira didn’t understand, but he nodded weakly. If those heavy balls emptied even a little, maybe he’d escape this nightmare.
Edwin eyed Leira with an odd expression as he—uncharacteristically compliant—nodded, then seized his small, pale hand and forced only his pinky finger straight. Leira shot him a wary glance, but Edwin ignored it entirely. Instead, he gripped his own rigid cock firmly and, with his other hand, pried Leira’s finger stiff so it couldn’t bend, aligning it with the slit of his urethra.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“Hah…”
No matter how often his cock was compared to a beast’s massive breeding organ, a human urethra wasn’t meant to swallow a finger—let alone a man’s—in one go. Even if Leira’s hands were dainty enough to be mocked as “little lady’s hands” in high society.
Yet Edwin didn’t seem to care about the sheer absurdity. His entire focus narrowed to one thing: forcing Leira’s pinky—no thicker than a sugar stick—deep into his piss slit, root and all.
Leira winced, his face twisting in disgust as he instinctively clenched his thighs together. God, it looks like it hurts. Edwin smirked internally. Back when they’d first started fucking, Leira had whined endlessly—”That’s my ass, not a cunt!”—until now, he flinched like he’d forgotten the difference.
The pain and strange, dizzying pleasure were Edwin’s to endure, but Leira looked like he was the one being broken in. With a sharp thrust of his hips, Leira’s finger sank halfway into his urethra, dragging out thick, unfamiliar fluid before slipping back out. Repeat.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
