Chapter 1.2

Syria poked Firenze’s butt with her finger; the firm muscle bounced her finger back.

Then, spreading her hand, she gently grasped the peaks, feeling the flesh mold perfectly into her palm. Unable to grasp it all at once, Syria kept turning her hand, savoring the feel.

Syria urgently pressed her face into Firenze’s back, making him flinch.

‘Haah…. This enticing scent. I love it.’

Syria’s lips curled into a smile, hidden as her face was buried in his butt.

As Syria breathed against him, Firenze felt the heat enveloping his lower body, unconsciously tensing.

Syria’s hands still clung to Firenze’s peaks. As she squeezed, Firenze’s thighs tensed and drew together.

Syria’s calves, pressed to the floor beneath her knees, repeatedly stuck together and parted again. Even when she tried to stay still, her toes hidden in her shoes kept wriggling.

Slap!

Syria’s hand struck the butt she was gripping, the sound slicing through the room.

“Stay still.”

Because Firenze kept tensing and relaxing his muscles, the vibration was transmitted to Syria’s face pressed against him, making it shake slightly and causing her mild irritation.

Her kneading hand, which had been working like dough, briefly broke away only to slap firmly back onto Firenze’s butt with a loud sound.

Like a dutiful knight, Firenze stopped flinching at Syria’s touch. Yet he was exercising extreme patience, unable to control his body’s involuntary reactions.

Standing guard for hours had never been a problem for him.

But the fact that the refined and beautiful lady’s face was pressed so closely to his most private area made his body react against his will, swelling beneath his pants. Fortunately, Syria could not see this from behind.

After a short while, Syria suddenly pulled her face away, as if she’d realized something.

“Sir Firenze, hasn’t it been more than five minutes?”

“… Now that I think about it, I might have another ten minutes.”

“……Really?”

Firenze, who had seemed ready to rush off to training just moments ago, now said he had more time, making Syria tilt her head.

‘Well, that’s just perfect for me.’

With the distracting object before her, Syria quickly forgot her previous thoughts and resumed her enthusiastic kneading.

Squeeze, squeeze, knead.

Syria buried her face into the valley between the cheeks again. Human nature is fickle—just touching had been enough moments ago, but now she grew curious about the sensation of bare skin without the pants.

“So… I guess it’s hard to really take off the pants, right?”

“……Then, I’ll just lower them off a little.”

Firenze reluctantly agreed, but with his body already straining against his pants, he decided it was better to let it out.

For a brief moment, Syria wondered if she was doing something she shouldn’t.

‘If he really hated it, he would’ve said so by now, right?’

She quickly forgot her earlier hesitation and thought selfishly.

As Firenze slowly undid the buckle and lowered his pants, his sturdy thighs came into view, along with his underwear.

‘Ah right… there’s underwear too.’

She wondered why he was even wearing underwear, but felt awkward asking him to take it off as well, so she hesitated.

But as if he’d read her mind, Firenze slid his underwear all the way down, leaving Syria inwardly cheering. She had no idea about Firenze’s own decision that it was inevitable.

His exposed skin was slightly tanned from the sun, but the part of his b*ttocks that had never seen light was as white as a snowman.

Gulp.

So excited she forgot to swallow, Syria finally managed a dry swallow. Her hands trembled fiercely. She’d made a few drunken mistakes touching men’s butts before, but never bare skin.

‘Goodness… How can it be so beautiful?’

To prepare for the sensation, Syria rubbed her palms against her dress, then, with fingers slightly curved, approached the man’s butt.

Soft, squishy.

Syria’s ten fingers sank deep into Firenze’s hills, kneading as if her palms were made for this. How could she describe this feeling? It wasn’t dough. Velvet fabric couldn’t compare. If she had to say, it was almost like slime.

Her hands roamed, kneading and rubbing every part of Firenze’s butt. Then, slowly, she pressed her face into the valley and took a deep breath.

Firenze’s butt tensed again at Syria’s actions. At the same time, the soft sensation under her fingertips hardened like stone.

Perhaps because it was bare skin, even as Firenze squirmed, Syria enjoyed everything—both the soft and the firm sensations.

“Mm…….”

A low moan escaped Firenze’s lips, startling Syria and making her quickly pull her cheek away from his bare skin.

“Sir Firenze, did I squeeze too hard? Does it hurt?”

Hearing his forced, suppressed moan, Syria felt a bit sorry, thinking she might have been too rough. Seeing him silent, she suspected she was right.

She had no idea how much time had passed. Syria slowly pulled herself back, reluctantly getting up.

“It’s been about ten minutes… Shouldn’t you go now?”

She was about to turn away when—

“Now that I think about it, I don’t really have to go.”

“……Huh? But you said you had training…”

She’d only called him for a moment to satisfy her curiosity, but as the Deputy Commander, he now claimed he didn’t need to go, which Syria found odd.

“Training is almost over, so I don’t need to go.”

Syria glanced at the clock. From her week of observation, she knew training should last another hour.

‘Is today an early finish?’

She felt suspicious, but since he said he didn’t need to go, she didn’t press further.

But something felt strange.

‘Why is he just standing there, not moving?’

Though she’d stepped back, Firenze remained by the door, unmoving like a statue.

‘…Is he in shock?’

Syria covered her face with both hands, squeezing her cheeks.

‘What have I done?’

Her wandering spirit seemed to return, and Syria’s mind grew complicated. She’d only intended to admire Firenze’s back up close while he searched for her earring. She’d never even imagined touching him.

But now, she’d fondled the family knight’s body, even stripping him down.

‘If he reports this to the Duke……’

Syria’s face went pale. The Duke was away in the territory, so she hadn’t seen him since transmigrating. In the novel, Syria Dronia’s father, Duke Dronia, was a strict man who cared only for family honor and paid no attention to his daughter.

He might cast her out as a disgrace to the family the moment he heard.

‘Ah… No.’

Just as Syria was about to speak to Firenze in panic—

“My Lady.”

Firenze’s voice came very close to her ear.

Startled, Syria looked up to see Firenze’s solid chest blocking her like a wall. While she’d been lost in thought, he’d come right up to her. Syria saw his throat bobbing in her line of sight.

“……Then, may I also touch your body, My Lady?”  

His voice was polite and deep, but the words made Syria doubt her ears.

“……Wh-what did you say?”

This time it was Syria who blinked in disbelief. Her pink eyes disappeared and reappeared several times.

‘What is he saying now? Is this some kind of give-and-take?’ 

Syria hesitated. She should obviously refuse, but thoughts of Duke Dronia worried her.

‘What should I do……?’

She looked at Firenze, who stared at her intently. His sculpted face and clear silver eyes seemed harmless, making her think maybe it would be okay.

“Ah…alright.”

Syria hesitantly turned her body away.  

Rustle.  

Firenze knelt on the floor. The feeling was different now, and Syria’s body began to tremble slightly.

His cool fingers touched the exposed ankle beneath Syria’s dress. She expected him to touch the back of her dress, but instead, he gripped both her bare ankles.

“W-wait a moment, Sir Firenze.”

Syria turned to speak, but all she saw was his silver hair, focused on his task.

Without hesitation, his hands slid up her calves and thighs. The touch was slow and somehow sticky. The feeling of a man’s hand on her bare skin was strange.

His knightly large hands covered her legs, and as he moved, her heavy dress bunched up like paper, sliding upward.

Soon, her lower body was completely exposed. Sweat seemed to gather on her palms, so Syria braced herself against the desk with both hands.

In Firenze’s grasp, her undergarments were pulled down roughly, and a chill once again swept across the bare skin of her backside. The unfamiliar feeling made her lean forward, pressing her upper body closer to the desk.

“Hng……”

Strangely, a sound threatened to escape her lips, so Syria bit down hard. As his large hands explored her butt, she felt her body twist and couldn’t focus.

‘So… this is what it feels like?’

She’d only ever touched others’ butts, never let anyone touch hers. Firenze’s strong grip kneaded her as if she were a toy, making her body go limp and bend forward even more.

Then it happened.

Smooch, slurp.