Little Pink Starfish

Ishar, whose legs had been trembling midair with each of Veloan’s thrusts, finally managed to anchor some strength into them. Looking up with tear-drenched eyes, he locked eyes with Veloan—who hadn’t looked away from him even for a second. In response, Ishar wrapped his legs tightly around Veloan’s firm waist.

At that moment—thrust—Veloan drove upward, and a moan, raw and uncontrollable, spilled from Ishar’s lips like a scream. Clinging even more desperately, Ishar threw his arms around Veloan’s neck.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

He could hear the pounding of a heart. Whether it was Veloan’s heart, pressing down on him with every motion, or his own, Ishar couldn’t tell. All he knew for sure was this—whatever that pounding was, it was drowning him in sensation, and he couldn’t think of anything else.

As if savoring the heat and the pounding of their hearts, Veloan’s once-rough thrusts slowed slightly. But when he tried to pull his lips away, Ishar bit his lower lip gently with his front teeth and tangled their tongues together again in a teasing plea.

“Hngh… hah… ahh…!”

That small provocation pushed Veloan over the edge. Without a hint of hesitation, he resumed his pace—faster, harder, slamming deep into Ishar with powerful thrusts. Unable to endure the intense pleasure, Ishar writhed beneath him, gasping and clawing at Veloan’s back in desperation.

But his fingers kept slipping against the fabric. Overwhelmed by the pleasure tearing through him, Ishar writhed, clinging to whatever sense remained and pleaded through ragged breaths.

“Velo… ah—Veloan…!”

“I love you… ngh—love you. Please… keep saying my name… more…”

“Veloan… your hand—hah! Hold… my hand…!”

His voice, trembling with helpless pleasure, cracked and faltered, but the way he spoke was almost like a command. And Veloan, with a joyous smile, intertwined their fingers tightly and held Ishar’s hands in his.

“Hnn… ah… ah… ahhh…”

It seemed Veloan had no intention of letting Ishar climax just yet. Unlike moments before—when he’d been relentless, striking all the right spots like a beast—his movements now slowed, growing deep and steady.

Just as Veloan had predicted, Ishar, who had been teetering right at the edge, glared at him the moment the pace dropped.

“Aah…” he gasped, the frustration and lingering heat in his voice clear as his body trembled, desperate for release that was once again denied.

At first, Ishar felt frustration rising—but the moment their eyes met, all of it vanished. In its place came a heat born of love, an aching desire for the one before him.

Those eyes—glistening and wet with the heat of pleasure—were filled with unwavering devotion, never once straying from him. That stubborn, overwhelming affection only made Ishar burn hotter.

He felt an urge to lick those crimson eyes, glowing with such mesmerizing light—just as Veloan often did to him.

Even the way Veloan parted his lips, panting softly, was so unbearably beautiful that tears welled in Ishar’s eyes. “Love” felt too small a word to contain what he felt.

Every time—every single day—he looked at Veloan, the thought that this breathtaking man was his filled him with a happiness beyond words.

Veloan’s face drew close. He pressed a gentle kiss to Ishar’s parted lips, then leaned up and licked the tears at the corners of his eyes. A soft trail of affectionate kisses followed—precisely the kind Ishar loved most.

“I love you. Truly, Ishar.”

He had heard those words countless times—every time their bodies came together.

And yet, every time Veloan said “I love you,” Ishar felt like a boy in love for the first time—fluttering, overwhelmed with joy, unsure what to do with himself.

This moment was no different. The instant Veloan spoke, Ishar nearly climaxed then and there. His inner walls tightened reflexively around him, and Veloan winced slightly, his brows knitting from the sudden pressure.

Even though Veloan had said “I love you” countless times before, every time Ishar heard it, his heart raced like it was the first. That fluttering, joy-filled emotion never faded. It overwhelmed him now, just as it always did.

And when Veloan said it this time, the words hit so deeply that Ishar almost climaxed from them alone. His inner walls clenched reflexively, and Veloan furrowed his brows at the sudden tightness.

Even that subtle grimace was endearing to Ishar. He lifted his head and brought their lips together again.

Veloan responded immediately, as though he’d been waiting for it. They melted into each other once more, exchanging breath and desire, tangled in kisses that spoke of love and longing.

---

Two hours later.

After one intense session in the garden and another round in the bedchamber, Ishar—now sitting atop Veloan’s lap and reading through some urgent documents—suddenly came to a realization.

“…Ah. There’s something I haven’t said to you.”

“Then say it now.”

Veloan’s voice came softly as he nuzzled his face into the space between Ishar’s shoulder blades. Ishar turned to look, but due to their position, he couldn’t quite see his partner’s face.

“Can you let go of me for a moment?”

“I’m comfortable like this.”

“I need to discuss something important… something that affects our future.”

“But every time you speak, it makes something inside me thrum. It feels really good. Keep talking, Ishar.”

He knows what I’m about to say, doesn’t he? Ishar paused at the thought, but Veloan’s arms only tightened around his waist.

“If you’re about to say you’re going to take a concubine for the sake of our future, I won’t listen. No—I’ll be furious. If that day ever comes, bring someone from another country, when you’re ready to retire.”

“…Actually, I just wanted to see your face.”

At that, Veloan instantly released him faster than breathing. Dumbfounded but composed, Ishar slipped off his lap with elegant grace and took the seat across from him.

“Do you not want me by your side?”

“No, it’s just that this angle gives me the best view of your face. Stay put.”

“But now I can’t reach your face to touch it.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to touch it later. Don’t frown. You’re handsome even when scowling, but you’re most lovable when you smile.”

“…Ishar.”

He ignored the longing in Veloan’s eyes—eyes that practically begged to pull him back down.

Taking a moment to observe his lover’s face, Ishar steeled his resolve before finally speaking the true reason for their talk.

“It’s about an heir.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“You must listen—if you are to be my Empress.”

“…”

When Veloan’s face went expressionless, Ishar couldn’t deny a slight chill ran down his spine—but he remained steady.

“You know this is my eleventh year on the throne. Most emperors of Lucheist produce heirs—either through the empress or concubines—within five years. Failing that, they adopt from the closest bloodline. You know this.”

Of all emperors to sit the throne, only Karsha lacked the founding emperor’s blood. Even then, he manipulated Lishard into believing and proclaiming he was a royal by blood, making it official.

“In two weeks, at the General Council, I will publicly declare you my Empress. I’ve already given orders to the ministers of finance and law for the necessary arrangements. But there’s one thing the nobility will surely raise—what is it?”

“…The matter of succession.”

Even that sullen tone made Ishar want to smile. He nearly forgot to keep a serious expression. To hide it, he took a sip of his now-cold tea and continued.

“Yes. I could announce that you’re capable of impregnating me, but as I’ve said before—I have no intention of bearing a child myself.”

Not because he feared the pain of childbirth or felt discomfort at the idea of a man giving birth.

“If something were to happen to me… Veloan would never forgive himself.”

Through his interrogation of Krodone, Ishar had learned much. Enough to make a final decision.

A body like his, infused with both aura and mana, becomes violently incompatible with a fetus that inherits strong magical power. The moment such a child grows even slightly—it tears the host apart from within, with no chance of saving them.

“So now, are you telling me you’ll take another to bear your child? That I’m supposed to sit and watch while you sleep with some woman? That I should allow a child with your blood and someone else’s to live—just stand by and smile? Do you honestly believe I’d accept that?”

Veloan’s voice was low, crushed, almost trembling—but each word was sharp, like a dagger honed to a perfect edge.

“Just imagining you smiling at that child… I already want to kill both the mother and the child with my own hands.”

If a servant had been present, Veloan’s aura alone would have driven them to collapse. Yet Ishar remained perfectly composed.

“Veloan, listen to me.”

“If this is a plea, I won’t hear it.”

“I feel the same as you.”

The sharp edge of Veloan’s presence dulled.

“The thought of you touching anyone else… It makes me want to throw away logic, pride, everything, and kill them. Do you think I don’t understand you? I’ve known you since you were barely the size of a chickpea.”

Sanity returned to Veloan’s stormy gaze. Ishar swallowed a breath of relief and pressed on.

“So I thought long and hard. About adopting a magically disguised child like Karsha did. About finding someone from a distant bloodline diluted almost to nothing.”

“Ishar…”

“But I hated every option. I could tolerate that for myself—but our child, our heir, becoming a tyrant and staining your name? I couldn’t accept that. So I made my decision.”

Clap!

Ishar clapped once. In that instant, a tall stack of papers—high enough to reach their chests—appeared on the table between them.

“Ishar, what is this…?”

“These,” he said, gesturing, “are all the magical formulas I’ve devised. Starting from this end. Each one brings us closer to an heir that carries both your blood and mine. It borrows from chimera theory, yes, but the child is no chimera.”

“I’ve prepared a chamber—an artificial womb to serve as a vessel. It will grow and birth a child made from your semen and my blood. A perfect ten-month term, no risks to either of us.”

“…You made all of this… on your own?”

The visible formulas on just the topmost sheet were intricate enough to be used as weapons by any mage. And yet, every single page in the towering stack was part of a single, massive formula.

“When did you even…?”

For once, Veloan was speechless.

“It built on personal research I began at the Mage Tower. Only took two weeks. So don’t look at me like that.”

“So this is why you’ve been refusing me in bed lately?”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“Ishar…”

Half true.
‘I mean, we were doing it every single day… even I needed a break to recover. But I’ll never admit that.’