Isri was stunned by Sehir's words and stared wide-eyed, trying to understand what Sehir had said.
"What...what do you want?"
The person sitting in the bathtub was somewhat exasperated by the thought process of the person outside, and could only slowly raise their hand to hook it around the other person's collar.
Cecil's fingers were quite nimble; in a few quick movements, he unbuttoned one of the complicated buttons and slowly circled his fingertips around the protrusion on his Adam's apple.
"Besides me, who else is there?"
Islam's eyes widened suddenly, his face filled with bewilderment, his throat instantly went dry, and his voice became somewhat unsteady.
"Young Master... what... are you saying?"
Cecil's hand moved down her collar, her voice softening: "Don't you know better than I what I'm saying?"
Isri stood stiffly, looking at Ceshir, whose eyes, moist and alluring, held him captive like hooks.
“Young Master…” Isri moved his fingertips, raised his hand and grasped Cecil’s hand, his gaze darkening.
“Maybe this is your only chance today, who knows…” Before Sehir could finish speaking, Isri pulled Sehir out of the water.
“Young Master, I will cherish it.” Isri pressed Cesil’s head against his shoulder and spoke in a low voice.
"It's not even dry yet, what's your hurry?" Sehir made a move to push Isri away.
Isri moved quickly, and in a few moments he reached the bedside and tossed Ceshir onto it, then leaned down and whispered in Ceshir's ear.
"Since the young master has spoken, I naturally do not wish to waste a single minute."
The breath spraying against his ear was somewhat hot, and Cesil flinched as if tickled. Isri suppressed his emotions, slowly got up, and his eyes revealed a desire that could no longer be concealed.
Sehir looked on, somewhat regretting why he had said those things to Isri earlier.
Islam loosened his collar, walked to the window, and drew the curtains tightly shut, instantly plunging the room into darkness.
Sehir chuckled to himself, thinking that at least Isri knew some manners.
Islam drew the curtains, sat on the edge of the bed, and was so surprised it felt unreal. It all happened so fast that he didn't even have time to react.
Isri turned to look at Ceshir, who was sitting in the shadows, his slender, long body lines gliding perfectly over every inch of his skin.
“Young Master.” Isri turned around, looked at Ceshir, and then gently embraced Ceshir: “I love you.”
Her soft lips trembled slightly as she touched them, taking tentative steps forward. The moisture from Cesil's body had already dampened the bed. Isri pulled her aside.
It was as if this body was being tasted for the first time, like an appetizer, exuding an enticing aroma.
Isri kept his head down and kissed Cesil on his collarbone, not with much force, leaving only a few red marks.
“Isri, be gentle…”
Sehir frowned slightly, his voice was a little unsteady, and his eyes were beginning to well up with tears.
Isri was startled by Sehir's sudden movement and quickly stopped what he was doing, asking, "Does it hurt?"
"Then you can try it." With that, Sehir slightly raised himself up, ripped open Isri's shirt, and took a bite.
"Hiss~" Isri gasped in pain, looking at Cesil with a hint of helplessness: "I don't have that much strength."
Sehir lay back down, turning his head to the side, exposing his smooth, white neck to Isrith's eyes: "Consider this my revenge. I was the one who was in pain before."
A hint of regret flashed in Isri's eyes as he lowered his head and gently placed a gag on Ceshir's neck.
"Then young master, feel free to take your revenge." Isri turned Sehir's head back, lowered his head, and murmured.
Today, his Sehir, his eternal Sehir, is finally his own treasure, belonging only to him.
Islam moved very slowly, afraid of hurting Ceshir with any movement. The foreplay alone took Islam more than 30 minutes, and the fine sweat on his back almost soaked through his shirt.
Sehir's eyes were flushed, and he felt weak, but he could still feel something. Seeing the fine sweat on Isri's forehead, Sehir deliberately spread his legs apart a little.
“Isri…” Sehir’s voice became moist as he reached up and wrapped his arm around Isri’s neck: “Are you impotent?”
Isri was startled by Cesil's words, then took his hands off his neck and pressed them onto the bed, his voice low: "Cesil, are you sure you want to say that?"
Cecil curled his lips into a smile, a teasing glint in his eyes: "Didn't I just say that?"
"Ugh..." Before he could even feel smug, a throbbing pain came from behind him, and Cecil couldn't help but cry out in pain.
"You really dare?" Sehir exclaimed.
Isri lowered his head and bit Cesil's earlobe: "Of course I dare."
Chapter 139
As he spoke, Isri pressed his body down further, leaving his marks on Ceshir's body without any mercy.
Before long, Cesil's collarbone turned red, and his eyes welled up with tears. Isri lowered his head and gently wiped his eyes with his lips.
Sehir's voice was fragmented, and he couldn't form a complete sentence for a long time.
“Isri…you…I was just saying…slow down.”
Isri smiled and reached under Cesil's legs, spreading them wider: "Young Master's body is so flexible."
Sehir blushed, and when he turned his head to speak again, he was hesitant to say, "Isri... I can't, you stop."
“Seshir…” Isri sighed softly, leaned down, and sealed Seshir’s half-open mouth with his warm lips, before pulling away after a long while.
"Young Master said this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, how could I not cherish it?"
Cecil had no time to think about what would happen next; his eyes were filled with growing affection, and he could only plead for mercy without any real intention.
"No... next time, or anytime is fine... you... um..."
Sehir bit his lower lip, afraid to make a sound, lest Isri laugh at him. But the more Sehir did this, the more Isri liked him.
Her bloodshot eyes and slightly swollen lips from being kissed made her look like a little rabbit in love—so adorable.
"What did you say, young master?" Isri grinned wickedly. "I didn't hear you."
With her hands free, Cecil gripped the sheets beside her tightly. Her fair body was flushed pink, so alluring that one wanted to devour her whole.
“I said… there will be opportunities next time.” Cecil repeated the rest of the words in his mind intermittently.
A tender look appeared in Islam's eyes, and his movements became gentler than before, his gaze falling on the fleshy scar on his left wrist.
“Young Master, I don’t intend to let you go today.” Isri turned his head and pressed his lips to the inverted scar: “Because this is what you promised me.”
In the end, it was Sehir who fell asleep first from exhaustion. Isri gently brushed the hair from Sehir's forehead, wiped away the tears remaining in the corners of his eyes, and picked him up horizontally.
After the cleaning was finished, it was already dark outside. After putting the person back on the bed, Islam did not go back immediately, but sat on the edge of the bed and watched for a while.
The feeling was somewhat unreal; they seemed to be outcasts of this era, barely surviving. In this deserted, so-called noble castle, lived two traitors of the times.
Isri felt a chill in his fingertips. This was something to be happy about, but he didn't want to. The moment he got Cesil, he wanted everyone to know, but he couldn't, and shouldn't.
For a moment, his chest felt heavy. Isri, his voice choked, slowly bent down and placed a cool lip on Cesil's forehead.
"Good night, young master. See you tomorrow."
The person in bed was breathing evenly, seemingly having a sweet dream. It was a warm and long night, a peaceful night.
-
The next day, Islam prepared his clothes for going out early, as Christmas was fast approaching.
Cecil rubbed his eyes and struggled to sit up in bed. His lower back felt like it had been stomped on hard, and he was in a lot of pain.
It wasn't until Isri entered through the door that Sehir glared at him fiercely. Isri, with an apologetic look on his face, knelt down in front of Sehir.
"Good morning, young master."
Looking at Isri's face, Cesil couldn't muster any anger. He turned his head to the side and said, "You've had a good rest."
Isri stood up, lifted Cesil's arm and slowly dressed, occasionally running his fingertips over the marks left from the previous night.
"Will the young master forgive me?" Isri asked, buttoning his collar. Cecil raised his head slightly to meet Isri's gaze.
"It depends on your performance."
Isri smiled and said, "Yes."
After he finished dressing, Sehir had just put his feet on the ground when he fell forward. Fortunately, Isri reacted quickly and caught Sehir.
The ninja, Isri, smiled and asked, "What's wrong, young master?"
Sesil was held in his arms, the tips of his ears turning slightly red: "How could you not know?"
Isri chuckled softly, picked up Sehir again, and sounded somewhat disappointed.
"It's a pity, young master has grown taller, we can't hold him like we used to."
“You prefer it the way it was before?” Sehir looked up at Isri, his eyes slightly narrowed.
“How could that be?” Isri tilted his head and pushed open the door to the room. “I like the young master no matter what.”
“Sweet talk.” Cecil closed his eyes, no longer intending to look at Isri.
As they reached the door, Isri spoke again: "Young Master, it's snowing."
Ceshir seemed to be throwing a little tantrum, and after saying "oh" he stopped talking. Isri could only smile helplessly and put the person into the carriage.
After the door closed, Cecil opened his eyes and looked out the curtain. Only a thin layer of snow had fallen on the pine trees, yet it had dyed the entire forest white. The silver-clad bushes were quite beautiful.
Sehir propped his head up, never tiring of the sight.
There weren't many people in the central square, mostly children playing in the snow. A pine tree had already been erected in the very center, and women were decorating it with their own things.
Sehir stared blankly for a while, then lost in thought. Christmas was almost here again. If you think about it carefully, less than two years had passed. So much had happened, so much that it felt like several years had gone by.
He will spend Christmas with Islam this year.
“Young Master.” Isri suddenly knocked on the small window. Ceshir paused for a moment, turned to look at Isri, and pushed the small window open.
"What's wrong?"
Isri smiled, his intentions unclear: "I'm going to buy something. Please wait here for a moment."
"What is that?"
Islam was still smiling: "Can I keep this a secret?"
Seeing that Isrith didn't seem inclined to say anything, Sehir didn't press the matter further, simply responding before turning his head away.
Islam parked the carriage by the roadside, got off, turned into a small alley, and disappeared from sight.