The One and Only Sami Chapter 53

“Ha, hhh… ngh…”

As a long thread of saliva stretched from his parted mouth, Sami’s moans fell in heavy, thick clumps right along with it.

His wrists were bound together. It seemed a pet’s jewelry wasn’t just for show; when Razard pressed Sami’s wrists against each other, the gaps in the bangles interlocked and snapped into place. They made for a perfectly effective set of handcuffs.

Razard remained behind Sami’s back. Unlike before, he was now wearing thin leather gloves, their surfaces glistening and slick, drenched in aromatic oils and thick sap. His sticky hands were currently roaming over Sami’s lower abdomen.

“H-heuk… no…”

No. This is… this is cheating…

Even while his wrists were being bound, Sami protested. He couldn’t even explain by what standard or why it was “cheating,” but he started by shaking his head anyway. Naturally, Razard let it slide right past his ears.

In the first place, the concept of “cheating” didn’t even apply to magic. Magic, by its very nature, was a cowardly and forceful mystery.

Still, the resistance was understandable. Even if Sami held onto lingering complaints on the inside, he was a guy who was quick to comply when pushed.

He had likely followed along without much grumbling because he thought this Marut retrieval would end with him just lending his mouth or his hands again. Perhaps he’d even steeled himself, thinking, ‘I’ve done it once, so I can handle that much. It can’t be helped.’

“C-can’t we… just… do it with my mouth or l-legs like last time… sir?”

Like this, you mean.

Was it really alright for a young man’s sexual views—someone for whom every experience was a first—to be warped so smoothly?

Well, since he was the one methodically breaking a perfectly good virgin (and a maiden-hearted one at that), he intended to take responsibility. That was why he’d seized the right of ownership, after all.

Instead of answering Sami’s plea, Razard pressed his lips against his. He forced his tongue inside, prying open the trembling lips.

“Mmph…”

His backside was small, and his mouth was narrow. Even though Razard had spent a good amount of time fondling him while he slept, when Sami was conscious, he still had the stiff air of a green youth, like an unripened fruit.

Yet, he didn’t feel like a child. After all, a face with eyes that went hazy and unfocused while a tongue traced a circle along the roof of his mouth couldn’t belong to a kid. There was only a young man here, his sexuality beginning to bloom into something soft and round.

The membranes inside their lips stuck together for a moment before pulling away with a wet smack.

“Haa, hhh…”

After that, Razard continued to plant kisses all over Sami’s body. The ears, the cheeks, the back of the neck, and the shoulders. It didn’t matter where—as long as his lips found skin, he kissed and sucked. Every time Razard’s soft, warm lips touched and retreated, Sami’s spine twitched and jerked.

The tension built up precariously, as if it might overflow at any second. His skin, damp with sweat, was like the surface of water that would ripple and spill at the slightest touch of a shallow breath.

“Ra…zard…”

He probably wanted to place his hands on the forearms that were fondling his lower belly. But his bound wrists allowed him zero freedom. He shifted his shoulders and squirmed, but that level of resistance was easily stifled by Razard simply pressing down with his chin.

As they rubbed against each other, the viscous fluid grew thicker, making an explicitly sluggish, sticky sound. Before long, it drowned out the sound of lips sucking on skin.

Every time Razard’s hand swept down past the navel to the flat mound below, the sound of the sap—squelch, squelch—rang in Sami’s ears like a tickle. Sami’s waist buckled, curling forward as he gasped, unable to withstand the stimulation.

If Razard’s arm hadn’t been wrapped around Sami’s waist, pulling him back, it was obvious he would have tried to crawl away on all fours—or rather, since his wrists were tied, on his elbows and knees.

Forced to sit in Razard’s lap, Sami kicked his legs out frantically. With every struggle, the tray sitting on the bed clattered and shook. On the tray sat the newly opened bottles of aromatic oils, small jars of unknown origin, and the Marut’s chest brought from beneath the desert sands.

They collided with one another, ringing out in clear, sharp chimes.

“Ngh, k-hhu…”

Razard kept his eyes cast downward even as he fished something out of the box.

Sami’s member, which had stood up with a bobbing nod just from his chest and lower belly being stroked, came into his view.

It was a penis that had learned of another man’s cock before it could even be put to proper use, but it was flawless and clean. The low sensitivity from a lack of experience, the rounded glans, and the shaft—a color so untarnished it showed no signs of use—were all beautifully shaped. He liked how it was smooth and neat, without any unsightly curves or awkward bumps.

It looked like it would be easy to rub by making a ring with his fingers. If he applied pressure and squeezed, it would probably snap to attention immediately. That also meant it was a member susceptible to stimulation. Sami, not just your chest, but your cock could change quickly too.

Had he dated a girl his own age, he might have had a cute and sweet first experience. But what could be done? The “first kiss” of his cock had already ended by being rubbed against Razard’s member rather than a woman’s labia.

Razard traced the tip of Sami’s glans with his thumb in circular motions. As he stroked it with care, the tiny hole within the slit at the tip twitched. Every time his thumb tapped the urethral opening and pulled away, the sticky sap clung to it, stretching out lewd threads of moisture.

“I haven’t even started tormenting you yet, but aren’t you already looking forward to it?”

“…! H-hic. That’s not… it!”

He laughed, ignoring Sami’s protest. Razard secretly licked the back of his teeth with his tongue.

He wanted to play around a bit more, but he had to stop here if he wanted to use “that.” He stroked Sami’s member just enough so that it wouldn’t get too soft or too hard, then pulled his hand away.

“You need to breathe properly now. You’ll get hurt if you twist around.”

Before long, Razard was holding the rod, now coated in a thick, syrup-like layer of fluid. The silhouette of his leather-gloved fingers pinching the rod, covered in sticky liquid, was quite obscene in itself.

“Though I’ll be the one to heal you if you do get hurt.”

His low, whispering voice had a viscous quality to it, much like the sap in front of them.

“You don’t like pain, do you, Sami?”

Wait, no. This is supposed to be torment, so maybe pain is better? I’m still not sure where the line is.

Razard muttered softly to himself. To Sami, that sluggish whisper was more terrifying than the prospect of a physical beating.

He was terrified of just how much pain he was about to endure. Since he couldn’t grasp the scale of it, his imagination only grew wilder. In the split second that Sami flinched and hunched his waist again—

“…?”

Razard brought the rod he was holding to the tip of Sami’s member. It was a movement that looked like he was gauging the distance.

“Ah… uh? W-why there?”

Fear-stricken, Sami’s waist jolted. Razard held him down with his other hand and soothed him with a soft “Shhh.”

Razard was sitting behind Sami, leaning his head forward over his shoulder. His expression was so calm and composed it made Sami’s agitation look misplaced. With his eyelids lowered in concentration and without a trace of a smile, his profile was so beautiful it was hard to believe he was a man rubbing a rod against another man’s cock.

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

From their side-by-side level, Razard glanced sideways at Sami. His sharply defined eyes crinkled softly, letting a beautiful smile slip through.

“I’m doing it because I’m going to use this.”

Razard turned his head back to look at Sami’s crotch. Specifically, at the cock and the rod.

Though Sami was melting with weakness, he remembered exactly what the sap on that rod was. For someone as completely naive as Sami when it came to sexual harassment, those words had been so shocking he couldn’t possibly forget.

He said it would be incredibly itchy if applied to the skin, and also…

“It’s already been decided where a rod this thin belongs, hasn’t it?”

He’d said it was especially effective when rubbed into a narrow fold of flesh where the air couldn’t reach, preventing the sap from drying out.

“Ah…”

The very tip of the member—the tiny hole in the slit. A thin rod would fit perfectly into that hole.

“N-no. You can’t do that. I can’t… do it.”

Sami, finally realizing what those gestures meant, blurted out a denial. His lower jaw trembled so much that his teeth could be heard chattering. His gasping breath and the moisture in his wavering eyes were so tense they seemed ready to burst at the slightest touch.

“Hh, ngh? I-I’m scared. I’m…”

Sami shook his head desperately. That was absolutely not a hole meant for something to be put in. It was a hole meant for things to come out. There was no way it could go in.

“Sami, there’s no stopping now. You know that. This is a ‘ritual.’”

But Razard would not grant his plea.