Bermuda

Leonardo’s flushed neck stood out sharply, veins rising beneath the skin. Beads of sweat gathered across his forehead. Gripping his own bangs, he shook his head from side to side, overwhelmed by the maddening sensation.

“Don’t talk while you’re doing that!”

The shout he finally forced out came ragged with breath. It was more a panting complaint than a threat, carrying no real force to the one hearing it. If anything, Hugo, who paid no mind to such considerations, let out a low, amused chuckle at the desperate tone.

“Seems like you like it.”

“Ah, seriously—.”

That low, even voice continued to torment the tower rising between his thighs. Hugo traced along the rounded tip with the full reach of his tongue, circling the edge of the crown. Yet, as if intentionally, he avoided the slit, leaving it untouched—like he meant to let it heat and ripen further before savoring it later.

At such deliberately cruel behavior, Leonardo’s finely drawn brows twisted deeply. The damp, sensitive flesh brushed against the rim of the glans again and again—like someone persistently prodding an itch with a feather. And instead of properly taking him in, Hugo kept licking at him with his tongue. This wasn’t service—it was torture.

“Ha... ugh....”

Swollen and overly sensitive, the tip throbbed sharply. Leonardo, his eyes reddening at the corners, dragged in rough breaths and pressed his hips down hard against the surface beneath him. His lashes trembled, his gaze thrown somewhere far away. He wanted nothing more than to grab and force the pace himself, but he held back, suppressing the urge for fear of hurting Hugo’s mouth—his first time.

But then the reflection in the mirror across from him shattered his restraint.

His own face, clearly flushed with arousal. His brows furrowed at the unsightly expression for only a moment before his attention was seized by the sight below—Hugo’s figure settled between his spread legs.

Without his jacket or vest, dressed only in a pure white shirt, Hugo’s broad shoulders seemed even wider, like an endless sea. The mirror was too small to capture his full body, but Leonardo’s imagination filled in the rest—his narrow waist, firm hips beneath that broad back, polished shoes planted as he knelt.

Fuck, this is driving me insane.

That winged imagination quickly twisted into something closer to delusion. He wanted to tear away the obstructing clothes and strip him bare right there. The image of the Duke’s body—surely elegant beyond reason—flickered vividly in his mind. Every time Hugo’s cheek hollowed, the muscles of that large body beneath the fabric shifted like restless waves.

That wild, untamed movement only fueled Leonardo’s boiling desire further.

Should he just do whatever he wanted? Acting like a gentleman wasn’t his job—wasn’t that supposed to °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° be this man’s role? Just as he wavered, his eyes caught the back of Hugo’s neck and the curve of his ear.

Red. Noticeably so—far different from the leg draped over his shoulder.

That subtle, hidden side of the cold man alone was enough to send a surge of climax rushing through him.

“Ugh... ah....”

Exhaling hot breath, Leonardo slid his fingers into Hugo’s hair buried between his thighs. But just as he was about to grip tightly, he slipped his hand down instead to the back of his neck. Resting his palm there, he pressed down gently while rocking his hips.

He ended up lifting his hips, grinding himself against Hugo’s face—shameless, but he couldn’t help it.

At that moment, the lips pressed against him brushed the very slit they had been avoiding all along.

“Leo, mm... I’ve been wondering for a while.”

Leonardo’s eyes widened instantly. The sensation of being pressed into that sensitive spot stole even his irregular breathing. That slick tongue now focused on rubbing around the opening.

“Hah—ah, don’t... say—ah—!”

His voice tangled uselessly. His body couldn’t tell whether it was being teased or spoken to. The man speaking with his tongue out, scraping lightly at the tip, made even his pronunciation sound indecent.

“I asked you not to talk—”

“Did you remove your hair on purpose?”

Leonardo couldn’t answer, afraid some strange sound would escape instead. He only covered his mouth with the back of his hand, clutching at the sleeve of his robe.

Is he insane?

Hearing such casual words in that tone, while feeling the gaze so clearly directed at the center of his body, made it impossible to compose himself. His arousal only swelled further, like some shameless exhibitionist.

“Why... are you asking that?”

Hugo licked at the clear fluid gathering between the flushed flesh, tasting it. It wasn’t as unpleasant as he expected—thinner than semen, easier to accept. The problem was that it kept seeping out no matter how much he cleared it away.

“When else would I ask?”

As Leonardo’s restless movements shook his lower body, the tip wandered without finding its way inside, brushing against Hugo’s lips and nose. Leonardo curled his toes tightly, forcing himself to speak through ragged breaths.

“Do it... properly—ha....”

Pressed by the length nudging insistently against him, Hugo twisted one corner of his mouth and muttered as if baffled,

“You’re already good at it on your own.”

“No—not like this—ah....”

Each word was interrupted by the sensation of lips toying with the tip, fraying his nerves. It was unbearably frustrating—enough to make him want to shove himself fully into that mouth and move however he pleased.

“Ah... ngh.”

A whining sound slipped from between Leonardo’s teeth. To Hugo, it sounded nothing more than endearing. A faint laugh escaped him.

The beast that had been groaning in restraint finally dragged a hand down over his own face before gripping a handful of Hugo’s hair. He yanked his head back, forcing their eyes to meet, and growled,

“Put it in. Now.”

It seemed he had reached his limit. Hugo frowned slightly at the unfamiliar pull on his scalp, then let out a short, amused breath.

“What a temper.”

“Then whose fault is that?”

“You should be asking nicely. ‘Please put it in.’”

“You started this—ah....”

The unfinished retort dissolved under the lights. Hugo tilted his head like initiating a kiss and pressed his lips neatly against the length.

Using only his lips, he rubbed slowly. The clear fluid thickened as it moved, gradually turning cloudy. He spread the slick mixture across the entire tip with his tongue.

Saliva and fluid blended together, serving as makeshift lubrication. Once prepared, Hugo swallowed lightly and lifted his gaze.

Their eyes met—Leonardo, breathing hard with furrowed brows, staring straight at him.

For a brief moment, both held each other’s gaze, as if to imprint the expression into memory. Then Hugo parted his lips and slowly took him in, starting from the tip.

“Ah—hngh—!”

Veins bulged across Leonardo’s forehead and lower abdomen as he endured it. His trembling waist twisted. Smooth, soft inner flesh enveloped him—the sensitive, pliant walls drawing him in from the head downward. It wasn’t even halfway, yet it already felt as though he had been taken in completely.

The pleasure climbing up his spine was sharper than expected.

It’s hot.

Hugo’s mouth felt like boiling water. The soft tongue and the ridged roof pressed from both sides, stealing his sanity entirely. It felt like he might come the moment he was fully inside. If not for the medicine he had taken earlier, he would have already lost control.

Goosebumps rose along his skin, his hardened nipples darkening as sensation surged up and down his body, pounding as if about to burst.

The fullness filling his mouth seemed to bring a faint gag reflex, and Hugo’s elegant brows knit slightly.

Holding him only halfway in, Hugo paused briefly to steady his breathing. The faint soap scent from earlier was gone, replaced by a damp, heated mixture of bodily scent and arousal.

As warm breath brushed along him, Leonardo forced himself to look—studying Hugo’s face despite his lack of composure.

One cheek bulged slightly, stretched by the intrusion.

Damn, he’s beautiful.

Thinking that this was a face only he could see made it unbearable to hold back any longer. He began nudging deeper, pressing into that damp mouth—

“Ah...!”

With a wet sound, a strong suction suddenly pulled him in deeper. It was completely different from the tight constriction of a tie—this was something else entirely. The sensation felt almost like being pulled apart, bordering on fear.

“Ah—ngh—wait—.”

But Leonardo quickly realized it was unbearable pleasure.

The obscene sound filled his ears. It hardly felt real that such noises were coming from that refined mouth. Hugo handled him like a vulgar thing, as if he had long experience.

And yet, the occasional scrape of teeth and the lack of refined technique reminded him—this was his first time.

A hand that had slipped down now gripped his slickened sac, squeezing and releasing with rough, uneven force.

“E-easy! If you keep that up...!”

There was no middle ground—only extremes. The sudden, overwhelming pleasure made tension coil in his core, in his lower abdomen. The tightening sensation told him clearly—

“I—I think I’m gonna come....”

Whether it was intentional or not, the lack of rhythm made it impossible to predict. And that unpredictability was far more stimulating than any practiced technique.

As the rough pressure inside his mouth ravaged his senses, Leonardo finally decided he couldn’t endure it. He braced a hand against Hugo’s cheek and shoulder, trying to push him back.

But Hugo’s upper body didn’t budge at all.

Leonardo’s face slowly drained of color.

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