Little Pink Starfish

“Haaah…!”

Before the words had even fully left his lips, Veloan thrust in even deeper—and began to release inside Ishar.

It’s so deep… too deep…!

This was a different kind of heat—one that came not from the thrusting, but from being filled. Veloan’s presence inside him grew heavier, more overwhelming. Ishar gasped for breath as his lower belly began to feel stretched, packed full with the sheer volume being poured into him.

“I love you, Ishar. You’re the only one for me.”

Even as time passed, Veloan’s thick shaft showed no sign of retreating. It was as if it had made a vow to completely flood his insides with release, refusing to stop until it had filled him to the brim.

He couldn’t shake the terrifying thought that his stomach might actually burst. The raw heat filling him, the strange sense of fullness—it was so foreign that his body trembled uncontrollably.

Then Veloan leaned in and kissed him again. Wanting even a shred of comfort, Ishar parted his lips, and Veloan’s tongue met his with a gentle, tender motion.

Moved by the sincerity in every touch—by the clear desire to ease his fear—Ishar’s trembling finally began to fade.

Is he really playing doctor now—hurting me one moment and soothing me the next…? Ishar grumbled inwardly, just waiting for it all to be over.

Veloan had human blood, didn’t he? Surely once the knotting ended, he’d wear himself out too.

Clinging to that hope, Ishar obediently offered up his tongue to Veloan, who eagerly met it with his own.

---

It had been a mistake.

Veloan wasn’t tired at all.

Ah… how many times have I come already?

Rocked endlessly by Veloan’s movements, Ishar could only think in a daze. His mind was sluggish, his judgment dulled.

All the thoughts that usually crowded Ishar’s mind had vanished. Now, the only thing filling his head was Veloan—and the overwhelming pleasure he was drowning him in.

Even after the knotting had ended, Veloan continued to move without restraint, as if pouring out every emotion he had kept pent up inside.

Every time Veloan thrust into him, the obscene squelch of movement echoed—amplified by the thick load still sloshing inside Ishar.

His eyes stung. His chest ached—Veloan had torn off the shirt Ishar had been wearing the entire time, like it was some kind of enemy, then proceeded to nibble and torment his chest relentlessly.

Most of all, it was his nipples—having endured the most focused abuse—that stung the worst.

…But it did feel good.

Every part of Ishar that Veloan touched—no matter how unfamiliar at first—was eventually transformed into a source of pleasure. And because of that, Ishar found himself unable to refuse him, not even once.

Soaked in sweat, pinned under Veloan’s massive frame, Ishar could only pant and cling to him like a beast himself, wrapping his legs around Veloan’s waist and begging—whether for him to slow down, or to stop touching a certain spot.

Ishar was certain that, come tomorrow—if not sooner—he’d want to dunk his head into a bowl of water out of sheer shame.

“Haa… Ishar…”

After reaching climax together with Ishar, Veloan didn’t withdraw right away. Instead, he kissed him gently and ran his hands over Ishar’s body until his ragged breathing finally began to calm. Only then did he slowly pull out.

“Hnn…”

With a soft, wet shlk sound, Ishar felt the warm fluid spill from the spot where they had been joined for so long, and a quiet moan escaped his lips as his body instinctively tensed.

Though he was exhausted, the lingering heat in his body turned even this sensation into part of the pleasure.

Veloan gazed with satisfaction at the entrance that had taken him in—now slowly leaking white, obscene traces of his release without sealing shut right away.

His stare was relentless, but Ishar felt more annoyance than shame. No more, he thought. Even if he tries again, I’m not giving in. If he comes at me, I’ll stop him with my aura if I have to.

Thankfully, Veloan didn’t press for more. Instead, he fetched a towel from the nightstand, gently cleaned Ishar’s body, then lay down beside him, wrapping him in a quiet embrace.

When Ishar turned his head weakly to look at him, even soaked in sweat, the annoyingly handsome man was smiling brightly.

“Enough… it’s over now…” Ishar muttered.

“Yes.”

Veloan answered immediately—but the trust that answer might have earned vanished the moment he started licking Ishar’s lips right after saying it.

“Promise me…”

His throat was raw, every word a struggle. Maybe out of pity for his ragged voice, Veloan furrowed his brows and gently sucked on Ishar’s lips.

Ishar wanted to tell him to knock it off, to stop treating his lips like candy, but he didn’t have the energy—he just kept his mouth shut tightly.

“Don’t worry. I promise.”

At last, the answer he had been waiting for. Ishar closed his eyes the moment he heard it—not because he was sleepy, but because he was simply and utterly exhausted.

The sky had been a bright, vivid blue when he first woke up here. Now it was pitch-black.

He hadn’t checked the time, but after all that time entangled with Veloan, both his mind and body felt completely worn down. He just wanted to lie still, like the dead.

“Ishar, Ishar.”

He now understood that when Veloan called his name in that syrupy, honey-sweet voice, it wasn’t because he expected a reply.

Ignore him. Ignoring is the only answer.

As expected, Veloan gently lifted himself and began placing soft kisses all over Ishar’s face—his neck, his chest, even his limp hands, which he cradled with reverent care.

At first, Ishar endured it. But when Veloan started fussing again—biting, kissing, fondling—he couldn’t take it anymore. He opened his eyes, just in time to see Veloan kissing his slightly swollen chest, which had been thoroughly nibbled and sucked.

Watching him for a moment, Ishar muttered almost unconsciously:

“…Hummingbird.”

The image of a hummingbird—bouncing and fluttering as it drank from a rare water source in the height of summer—suddenly came to mind. In some way, it reminded Ishar of Veloan, who was now planting soft kisses all over his body.

“Hummingbird? What’s that?”

*Ah… right. In this world, they’re called *Etricas…

Realizing his slip, Ishar didn’t bother to correct himself. He simply closed his eyes again.

“You’re not going to answer me?”

As if to coax a reply, Veloan started targeting his lips with gentle insistence.

“Please tell me, Master. I’m curious. You always told me to ask when there’s something I don’t understand, didn’t you?”

“…You only call me Master at times like this.”

What had this brat even said earlier? When Ishar had begged him to stop, to listen—reminding him that he was still his teacher—how had Veloan responded?

“I’m still not done with you, Ishar,” he had said, gripping both of Ishar’s hands tightly while moving his hips like a beast.

“Get off.”

Ishar turned his body to the side, trying to avoid Veloan’s face that kept drawing close. But then he spotted the evidence of their coupling—spattered so close to his own face—and, flustered, turned his body back with quiet indignity.

“Why are you turning away, Ishar?” Veloan asked gently.

Would you like me to add this to the document and continue?

“Isn’t there… another bed? At least conjure one with magic—no, forget it. I’ll go wash.”

Veloan gently tucked the sweat-dampened strands of silvery-blue hair behind Ishar’s ear, his touch as tender as the honeyed voice whispering by his ear. It made it hard to push him away outright.

“I’ll bathe you,” Veloan offered.

“No.”

His firm rejection made Veloan visibly sulk—a tactic, no doubt, knowing how Ishar was weak to that expression. Ishar looked away, refusing to indulge him.

He just wanted to scrape out every drop of Veloan’s release still heavy inside him.

“Then at least wash later. For now, I’ll carry you to the next room.”

“Why not now? Is there some reason I can’t bathe right away?”

“My release is still inside you, remember?”

“…”

A cold light flickered in Ishar’s violet eyes, but Veloan met even that look with warmth and gently explained.

“It’s not because of pregnancy, Ishar. It’s because of the mana you gave me. It would be best not to force anything out. It’ll save you pain later.”

“Mana?”

That came out of nowhere. Ishar narrowed his eyes, puzzled, but before he could say anything more, Veloan kissed him softly, then withdrew.

As Ishar stared after him, wondering what the hell he was up to, Veloan gently turned his body over.

“I said I’m not doing anything else—”

“I’m just going to relax your muscles. If I don’t, you’ll be in real pain when you wake up.”

“…Fine.”

At that, Ishar let his body relax. True to his word, Veloan’s hands moved steadily, starting a massage with no hint of ulterior motive.

“Ishar, I’ll return the mana you gave me. Don’t worry—it won’t stunt my growth.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but Ishar couldn’t immediately process what he meant. He repeated it mentally a few times, and when he understood, a moment of heavy silence followed—about a minute, if that.

“Veloan.”

“Yes, Master?”

“The mana I gave you isn’t mine anymore. It’s yours now. Do you understand what it means to say you’ll give it back to me?”

Unlike Ishar, Veloan didn’t have aura. That meant he wouldn’t suffer internal injury or faint outright. But…

That doesn’t mean it’ll be painless.

Extracting something that had settled in the heart wasn’t easy. Even if it was mana, and not a living organ, the process was painful—painful enough to make someone wish for death. Ishar remembered all too well how long it had taken to grow numb to that kind of agony.

“I understand.”

“It’ll hurt. A lot.”

“I know. I’ll be tearing a piece of my life out of myself. It’ll hurt more than having my flesh carved away. But Ishar… you went through that for my sake. Dozens of times.”

“Which is why you shouldn’t do it.”

“I know you don’t want me to suffer the way you did.”

Veloan smiled.

As he spoke, his fingers gently traced one of the marks he’d left on Ishar’s chest. When they reached the scar just above his heart, he stared at it with regret—and kissed it softly.

“All the more reason not to do anything foolish,” Ishar said quietly. “I don’t want to see you suffer anymore.”

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Pinky screams: 6 CHAPTERS OF SMUT FUCKING HELL.