***

“Atlion!”

A blazing mass, like a falling meteor, came crashing down on his head. Smelling of sulphur, it landed with such precision that it could hardly have been an accident. Narrowly avoiding the inferno, he parried the blade of an approaching man and without hesitation slit his throat.

He mounted his horse, his cloak flapping behind him as he secured the severed head of his fallen enemy to the saddle and tightened the reins. The world beyond the visor of his helmet was a whirlwind of chaos, but even this disorder seemed methodically arranged. Cavalry and infantry moved in and out of formation, aligning and dispersing to the beat of the war drums.

“Sir Atlion!”

A young, resonant voice called out. Instinctively, he turned his helmeted head towards the sound. A young figure stood in the distance, staring intently at him. As he removed his helmet to clear his blurred vision, the young figure beat him to it, removing his own helmet and fixing him with a piercing stare.

“……”

Long hair rippled in the wind, curling as it moved. Not a man. His vision wavered again. Shapes began to blur and she seemed to break into indistinct pieces. He closed his eyes, trying to piece together the image of her in his mind, then opened them again. When the scene became clear again, it was a woman he saw.

“Swan.”

Yes, that was her name. Lush, fiery, red-gold hair. Lush green in full bloom. Scattered summer light. Clear, translucent eyes… freckles dusted across her nose. Slender arms clasped to her br*ast… a maiden. The maiden who had once wrapped her arms around his neck.

Her delicate bones were small and thin. Rounded shoulders, a pale and slender neck, tousled red-gold hair and long eyelashes. Her arms were crossed, her fingers gently curled. With her head resting on his chest, the woman remained fast asleep, even as the midday sun poured through the window in golden rays that seemed to shatter upon impact.

He tried to piece together the fragments of his hazy dream. Loose golden hair, teal eyes… a fluttering blue cloak. Fleeting images, too faint to leave even a trace of embers, stirred uneasily in his mind. Who was it? A sharp, pulsing pain clouded his thoughts.

Before his uneasy stomach could worsen, he stood and looked down at the woman. Then his eyes fell on the charred beam lying motionless. Despite the intensity of their night together, the sight of her rounded br*asts and soft n*pples stirred him again and made him harden.

“Unbelievable.”

He shook his head in disbelief. Even after their wild night, the urge to bury himself in her once more gripped him. He rose, pulled on his trousers and headed for the kitchen.

Swan awoke three hours after midday, much later than usual. Although she occasionally had lazy mornings, she had never overslept this much. Confused and slightly alarmed, she couldn’t believe it was already afternoon. She was sure she had got up at her usual time, but somehow it was late enough to leave only three hours before dinner.

As Swan rubbed her eyes and looked around, her cheeks flushed as she saw the man approaching with a tray of food. He stopped when he realised she was still undressed, put the tray down and quietly helped her into her clothes.

Swan’s blush deepened as she bit her lips nervously, only to flinch slightly when she realised they were bruised. She let out a small gasp before quickly silencing herself.

“You should probably put some ointment on it.”

“It’s fine.”

“Is the ointment for your lips the same as that for… other areas?”

He asked, holding up a couple of tubes of medicine he had taken from a drawer. Swan nodded hesitantly and reached out to take one. But instead of handing it over, he scooped some of the ointment onto his finger.

“I-I can do it myself.”

The thought of his fingers touching her skin – lips or otherwise – made her pulse race. It was already overwhelming that he had brought her a meal in bed. If he showed any more care or tenderness…

“It’s a bruise caused by my actions, so I should be the one to treat it.”

“But…”

“Lie down.”

Swan blinked, startled by the order. The man, seeing her hesitate, spoke again.

“I’ve seen it all, haven’t I?”

“E-Even so…”

“Not only seen – touched, rubbed and even thrust.”

Swan raised her head, her cheeks burning at his frank words. His face, however, remained impassive, his tone detached, as if this were nothing more than a necessary task.

The swelling in her br*ast, full of conflicting emotions, began to subside. His rough, indifferent gaze felt like a sharp prod, and the rapid beating of her heart seemed to stop abruptly. Aware of his aloofness, Swan leaned back reluctantly.

His large hands lifted her skirt to examine her bruised skin. Dark purple bruises marked the places where his body had pressed and collided with hers. He dipped his finger into the ointment and began to rub it gently into her skin. Her flesh quivered involuntarily at his touch and a familiar weight began to settle heavily in her v*gina once more.

He looked at her as she clung to the blanket, making soft, strained sounds. When their eyes were about to meet, he quickly looked up at the ceiling. Then he looked back between her legs, which were spread like a frog’s. The marks of his persistent efforts were clearly visible. Swallowing dryly, he slowly rubbed the ointment into her v*gina before gently covering her with the skirt.

Swan’s gaze fell briefly on the heat pooling in his stomach. Her freckled nose flushed a deep red. He lifted his hand and brushed it nonchalantly over the visible tension in his gr*in, looking at her the whole time.

“Show me your br*ast.”

“……”

Swan, who had kept her head down, looked up at him with a trembling gaze. She was innocent and modest. He undid the front of his trousers and grasped his growing p*nis. His p*nis, rising towards his navel, was slick and firm.

Her gaze towards him was innocent, her eyes lingering hesitantly. His p*nis began to glisten under the intensity of her gaze. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

A green hue flickered in her hazy eyes, a restless energy building within them. As if she longed to take him in immediately, to cling to him and savour him greedily. Her plump lips quivered slightly. The loose front of her baggy pyjamas slipped away.

He let the dripping Cooper fluid coat his palm and moved the long p*nis back and forth, slowly and gently. Her br*asts, rounded and swollen like drops of water, had pointed tips that stood out sharply. The sharpness was almost painful, leaving a burning sensation in his mouth.

A hole already torn and ravaged, rubbed and pierced until it was shredded. His mouth felt like it was on fire, burning dry and intense.

He remembered the drops of blood on the blanket – traces left by this immense force. At his single word, the woman who had bared her br*ast so boldly, gently clasped herself.

Then he slowly pulled the soft flesh together and cupped it. He lifted his gaze from her br*ast. Her flushed face, red with heat, now wore a bold and daring expression. Standing still, he stared at her blankly, the sound of clapping hands echoing before he finally parted his lips to speak.

“Come closer.”

Swan looked up at him with frightened eyes. He idly toyed with his t*sticles and locked his gaze with hers. Her expression, both frightened and dazed – perhaps dazed enough to feel fear – lingered as she climbed off the bed and approached him on her knees. The unbearable itch of *rousal made him feel like he was going mad.

“Oh, your br*ast.” 

“Hm… Why?”

“Put this between your br*asts.” 

She hesitated, looking up at him nervously. It was as if he had an obedient puppy at his feet. Such a beautiful and innocent creature… 

“Like this?”

She lifted her watermelon-sized br*asts, slid her p*nis between them and asked softly. Her large, voluptuous br*asts, radiant and soft like ripe fruit hanging heavily from a bountiful field, were mesmerising. Nestled in the warm valley of her bosom, she looked at him with expectant eyes, seeking praise.

Instead of stroking her head, he nodded, lightly stroking her n*pples, which stood out like excited buds. 

“Move them. Back and forth.” 

“Okay.”

Fidgeting slightly, Swan nodded hesitantly and began to move back and forth, his p*nis nestled between her br*asts. His t*sticles pressed against her plump, full br*asts and a wave of pleasure began to spread, tingling all the way to his toes.

“Hoo….”

The sensation tightened at his core and surged upward, reaching the top of his head. The awkward movements of her pressing br*asts weren’t enough. She panted heavily, her red lips parted slightly. He stroked her wavy red hair and murmured softly.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?”

“Come on.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise before she hesitantly opened her mouth. He slid his fingers between her parted lips, brushing her tongue.

“I’m putting it in, so suck it.”

“That, that….”

As she stammered, her cheeks flushed, he slid his p*nis in. He had no intention of letting it reach her throat. Taking a deep breath, he leaned in and whispered softly.

“Suck it deep.”

Swan, kneeling on the floor, trembled as she struggled to breathe with his p*nis in her mouth. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. He moved inside her, seeking release. At his command, “Suck deeply,” she obeyed, sucking him in until her cheeks were hollowed out. There was a sharp sensation, but nothing more.

“Ugh.”

He looked down with a discontented expression as the woman reached for his t*sticles. Allowing her to touch them, he grabbed her hair and moved it forcibly. The swan’s eyes were tightly shut, gagged and showing signs of distress. Suddenly his hand let go of her hair.

“… Your Majesty!”

A man in a helmet called out to him. The breastplate was smeared with soot and the wind carried the stench of smoke. Fragmented memories, once out of place, began to fit together in his mind.

“… Your Majesty!”

A firm voice rang out. The helmeted, sword-wielding knights turned to him with urgent expressions. In an instant, sperm erupted, filling the wide open mouth with murky liquid. He looked down at the woman with a startled expression, her green eyes unfocused and staring blankly ahead.