Little Pink Starfish

Since Duke Superzen hadn’t attended the banquet, it was clear the young man his steward was frantically searching for had to be the duke’s cherished grandson—Glen.

“So he’s lost track of the boy.”

Ishar subtly moved his fingers atop his knee, as if idly fidgeting—though it was a command.

First directive: identify and locate subject.

Though the movement looked innocuous or meaningless to most, to the knights positioned around the hall, it was a clear signal. Pre-assigned to observe certain individuals, the knights silently slipped into motion, fanning out in search of the designated person: Duke Superzen’s grandson.

“Veloan. Let’s head to the inner chamber.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to stay a bit longer?”

“I’d rather get out of these suffocating clothes. Besides, the real gifts celebrating your return will be exchanged on the second floor this afternoon. Might as well rest before then.”

Seeing Ishar dressed in even more ornate regalia than usual—due to the occasion—Veloan could tell he was tired, and nodded obediently.

“Understood. But… I’d like to help you change. I’m very confident in my undressing skills.”

“I’ll pass. I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.”

Coldly rejecting the offer, Ishar rose and headed to the inner chamber behind the throne.

The moment he entered, he realized the truth.

If I really wanted to rest, I should’ve come alone.

As soon as he removed the imperial crown and set it down in the corner, Veloan immediately closed the distance and kissed him.

What could he possibly be so worked up about in just a few minutes? The way his tongue explored Ishar’s mouth was bold and impatient.

When Ishar turned his head to avoid him, Veloan simply followed, pressing closer and grazing the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue—targeting every sensitive spot.

“Wait—mph…”

With arms wrapped tight around his waist, Ishar had no room to resist. The firm, unyielding presence pressing against him even through their clothes made Ishar glare at him, eyes wide.

“Why is he so aroused this time?”

Aside from a brief exchange of formal greetings with nobles who had come to congratulate Veloan, their conversation had been strictly businesslike.

Discussion of noble families’ standings, political strategies, means to ethically extract funds… Nothing even remotely stimulating.

Not even a stray flirtatious word. Ishar swore it.

“Enough. Let go.”

No sooner had Ishar broken free of the kiss than Veloan hugged him tighter, chasing him with a determined hold.

When Ishar turned his head away again, Veloan, unfazed, pressed his lips to Ishar’s ear.

“…!”

The soft sensation made him flinch. When Veloan licked his earlobe, then gently nibbled it, Ishar shuddered violently.

Seemingly pleased with the reaction, Veloan laughed quietly and teased his tongue into Ishar’s ear canal before pressing another kiss against it.

Ishar tried not to react—but the unfamiliar, wet sounds and sensations made his body jolt involuntarily.

“Hff…!”

Trailing his tongue along the curve of Ishar’s ear, Veloan sucked and nibbled at the lobe.

“I can feel every breath…!”

Ishar squirmed, trying to escape—but his strength kept leaking away, especially when Veloan’s hand started kneading his backside. The heat gathering in his lower belly was spreading, igniting his whole body.

“…Ishar.”

His voice sounded different—deeper, more intimate. It struck Ishar harder than the whisper at his ear.

“It’s just us in here. I want to be inside you, right now. And you?”

Red eyes gazed at him—filled with affection, with a quiet glow, burning with desire.

Veloan had clearly mastered every detail of Ishar—his voice, his reactions, his face. Otherwise, he couldn’t possibly wear such a beautiful, irresistible expression.

“…No. You know full well—just beyond that door is the banquet hall.”

“Yes, but no sound will escape from this room.”

The sweet tone of his voice blurred the edges of reason. Ishar felt a dangerous urge—to give in, to drown in warmth and pleasure.

“No. Step back.”

Veloan paused at the firmness in Ishar’s tone—but then smiled.

“Are you sure? You seem very… excited.”

His hand brushed between Ishar’s legs. Even over the clothes, the sensitive area responded immediately.

“I’ll handle it myself. We need to be on the second floor in two hours. Now move.”

“‘Handle it yourself’?”

Veloan’s eyes gleamed with interest.

“If that means you’ll masturbate while thinking of my touch… please, don’t mind me. Go ahead.”

“That’s not—”

“If it’s not, then how will you deal with it?”

His hand didn’t stop its slow, deliberate movements. Ishar tried to grab his wrist—but Veloan didn’t budge, only intensified the touch.

“Haa…”

“Please answer me, teacher. Shouldn’t a teacher always guide his pupil?”

Ishar bristled at the faux-innocent tone. He was now backed against the wall, trapped in Veloan’s arms.

“Do you need me to really get angry to make you move?”

“Surely not.”

“Then move. Now.”

Ishar lowered his voice, trying to sound angry—hoping Veloan would back off without sensing the raw desire building inside him.

Truth was, Ishar didn’t dislike Veloan’s touch. On the contrary.

He was beginning to crave it. The sweetness that followed. The warmth. The primal, animalistic intimacy.

And that’s what I hate most…

He admitted it—he was being trained. His body was becoming addicted to the pleasure Veloan gave him. And because it was Veloan, he was helpless against it.

“Do you really not want this?”

“Yes. I don’t.”

…

Ever since their second night together, Veloan had gradually grown bolder, more intimate—his touches more candid, even in public spaces.

And now, here they were. With a mere wall separating them from a hundred nobles and mages.

Shuzel will come for me before we head upstairs.

If Shuzel saw them like this—if he realized Ishar and Veloan had become this—what kind of face would he make? How could Ishar possibly meet his eyes?

“…I’m sorry.”

Unexpectedly, Veloan stepped back.

The confidence vanished from his face, replaced by a soft melancholy. His eyes gleamed with regret.

“No…”

Ishar hadn’t expected him to be this remorseful.

He thought he’d laugh it off, or push further, or at most pout in disappointment. But the change in Veloan’s expression left him flustered.

“I was greedy. Too many people have been looking at you today—even before the banquet started. I felt like you were being taken away. And I got jealous. So I ignored your feelings.”

His voice was subdued, almost crushed under guilt.

“I’m not that angry. Don’t worry, alright?”

“I’m sorry, Ishar…”

“No, really—it’s fine, Veloan.”

“You don’t have to forgive me. I hate myself for letting jealousy push me to force something on you.”

If he had shown even a hint of insincerity, Ishar could have stopped him—scolded him, told him to cut it out.

But all he saw was a lovely boy, full of regret.

“I’ll step outside. Even after hurting you like this… I still want to touch you. To feel you. Please forgive me.”

One small prod and those tears would fall. His voice trembled with emotion as he turned to leave.

Just before he turned fully, Ishar saw the way he bit his lip—his face clouded with love, sadness, guilt, and remorse.

Ishar didn’t think. He grabbed Veloan’s wrist and pulled him back.

Veloan came into his arms so easily.

Or maybe Ishar had fallen into his.

Either way—it didn’t matter anymore.