It felt like a snake slithering across the chest, the saliva-drenched tip of the tongue hissing.
"What beautiful brown hair... But what's best are those eyes... Just one glance at them, with their clear, sea-like clarity, and even the Cornwall mermaids who seduce men into the waters would become captives to you."
"You really are... a poet, Lord Dejir..."
"No, I'm a male mermaid... I've drowned in your eyes countless times already."
Kissing Morris's chest and neck over and over.
"Ah... I can't do this anymore, the Church, the faith, it doesn't matter. You are... my king, my god."
Looking down at the boy below him, who was panting with soft whimpers, Dejir curled up the corners of his mouth.
"Mmm-hmm~, my beloved, foolish Church lamb, I shall make you weep with pleasure like a whore."
"It doesn't matter, ah, once more, cherish me... Mmm, rougher..."
Dejir fulfilled the request, and as he was about to thrust into Cyril's thighs, the glass window let out an unromantic creak.
