Chapter 29: An Act of Worship

After laying Bel down on the bed, Lema began kissing her from the tops of her feet upward.

Her hair looked glossy and soft, but when it brushed against his thigh it was surprisingly coarse.

Just as everything about Lema Valkite was larger and thicker than the human average, his body hair too was thick and bristly.

As befitted a diligent knight, he had never failed to train his body each morning.

It seemed only a matter of time before he regained the robust physique he had once had.

Bel thought he looked just right as he was now, but clearly, he was not satisfied.

Still, that large frame of his proved useful at times like this.

And Lema adapted to these things alarmingly quickly.

“Haa…”

The fingers massaging her ankle like a rubdown crept steadily higher, stroking along the softer flesh inside.

His lips lingered on her knee; when Bel glanced down, he immediately noticed and met her gaze.

It was easy to forget because of his sturdy, masculine presence, but with his eyes lowered in concentration, his lashes were surprisingly long.

When those lashes lifted like butterfly wings, revealing the green eyes beneath, it was beautiful.

They were originally a pale green, but when excited they darkened — and now they had become a vivid teal.

“Mmh… ha…”

What thrilled her most was how, at first, he had known nothing at all, yet in an instant his hands had grown deft and skillful.

His tongue withdrew briefly from her knee, gauging her reaction.

The fingers that had been caressing her calf slid to her inner thigh.

Since she was never touched like this otherwise, Bel felt every approach with heightened sensitivity, each contact unbearably stimulating.

When she flinched and drew in her shoulders, Lema did not miss it.

“Master.”

His baritone voice, deep and resonant, grew even heavier with focus.

“…It seems your body is somewhat weakened. Is it because you have lacked sacrifices?”

Bel blinked at the strange remark.

Lema was staring at the small bruise that had bloomed on the knee he had just kissed.

A body that could withstand a sword cut or deflect arrows now bruised under the pressure of his fingers, or retained the mark of his lips. He seemed puzzled.

Had he simply not noticed before, lost in the heat of things? His blind, single-minded devotion meant that once his focus turned, he overlooked trivial details.

“It’s supposed to be like that. My body reacts to stimulation.”

“Then… in this state, does that mean I might harm you?”

“…Yes.”

“Even though I am a sacrifice? No… it must be because I am a sacrifice.”

His eyes wavered gravely, then steadied with solemn resolve.

“…You must not choose sacrifices lightly. What if they dared to harbor impure intent toward you? I will train myself so that you may be satisfied with me alone.”

If she willed it, her body could easily repel any human — yet it seemed Lema had misunderstood her words.

The way he spoke, as though he himself would never falter, was almost laughable.

But in truth, this excessively earnest zealot really did seem incapable of such betrayal.

She had seen how he treated Mirgas before. His faith was not only blind but rooted in an ironclad conviction.

Perhaps not just a madman… perhaps she had chosen wrong…

But Bel’s thoughts were chased away by his next touch.

“Ah…”

Lema’s large hands roamed over her body.

They traced the curve of her waist, squeezed her breasts repeatedly, testing how they filled his palms.

His touch was careful, as if handling fragile glass, yet when his callused fingers brushed her nipples, the sharp stimulation made her jolt.

“Unh…”

“Ah—forgive me…”

His slightly parted lips showed just how intent he was.

It felt less like caressing and more like probing, confirming something of importance. Yet the firm, dry rasp of his palms as they swept across her skin was strangely pleasing.

Not content with hands alone, Lema lowered his lips to the spot where Bel had reacted so sensitively.

“Ah—mmh…!”

Her chilled nipple was drawn into the heat of his mouth, rolled warmly against his tongue.

Sliding an arm beneath her waist to hold her in place, he licked with zeal at the silken skin.

Blood rushed to her nipples, hardening them under his attention. Lema caught one between his teeth, worrying it with tongue and breath.

His body ran hot; the exhalations falling against her breast burned.

When one nipple was reddened and softened from his mouth, he immediately turned to the other.

“Mmh…”

Repeating the exact same treatment, he pressed Bel beneath him, wrapping her fully in his arms, and left kisses all over — not only her nipples but the swell of her breasts, her collarbones, her nape.

Slick, wet sounds filled the air as he kissed and sucked.

A skilled human lover would have sought stimulation without leaving marks. But Lema covered her pale skin in his imprints as though trampling fresh snow with footprints.

She ought to correct him… but let it be.

It might be amusing to watch him realize later, or suffer embarrassment when someone else pointed it out.

It was half an act of worship, half an act of conquest — savoring something beautiful, yet also claiming it.

He found that most parts of her bruised easily under pressure, but her shoulders did not. So he bared his teeth there.

“Unh.”

When he bit and sucked at the juncture of shoulder and neck, it was like a beast mounting its mate.

Indeed, his rough, panting breaths sounded no different from an animal on the attack.

“Ah…! Lema. Ahh!”

He finally left a dark mark on her shoulder, then swept his gaze down the body pinned beneath him.

His eyes, now darker, glowed with satisfaction. But the realization of his own feelings quickly flushed his face red.

As if the very emotions and actions shamed him.

“I… I dared to…”

He muttered faintly, almost dazed.

“If I were to grip you wrongly, I might break your ankle…”

His huge hand was holding her foot as if it were no heavier than a feather.

Bel said nothing.

Perhaps thinking she was testing him, his touch grew more cautious, softer.

No — this was how one handled something weaker, something fragile that might cry out in pain if gripped too hard.

That he was treating her that way was absurd.

Well… it isn’t so bad either.

This was simply who Lema Valkite was.

To rage and resist against the strong when treated unjustly — yet to grow gentler still in the presence of the weak.

And now, showing his true self so honestly, even baring his desires, the simple act of touching seemed to bring him deep satisfaction.

After covering her upper body with his marks, Lema’s lips descended further, to her waist, her belly, until at last he neared her lower body.

It was as if he intended to mark her entire being as his own.

With a tug, he pulled her down on the bed until she pressed against him, parting her legs to leave marks on her inner thighs as he had on her chest.

Even the breath pouring between her spread thighs was stimulating.

“Ahh! Haa…”

Lema pressed his thick fingers to the soaked slit between her legs, smearing them with wetness, then immediately found her clitoris.

“Ah—unh, mmm!”

His fingertip pinched and rolled the sensitive bud, tugging just enough to expose it beneath its hood. The swollen, red nub was circled and toyed with by his slick fingers.

“Ahh… ahh… nghh!”

Compared to his caresses above, this pleasure was incomparable, overwhelming. Bel writhed, twisting her waist.

But his massive arms only tightened around her, muscles bulging, veins standing out as he held her in place.

“Ah!”

Pinning her down, Lema toyed with her clitoris shamelessly, even as he bent to suck at her inner thigh.

Every motion of his hand made her drenched folds squelch lewdly.

Wet sounds of fluids smeared and spattered filled the air.

When he rubbed firmly along the length of her slit, her slick inner walls clung and sucked at his fingers.

And when he bit and sucked her inner thigh as he had mounted her shoulder earlier—

“Hahh!”

—Bel climaxed at once.

It wasn’t a destructive pleasure, but the suddenness left her body shaking uncontrollably.

And Lema… stilled, waiting in silence, letting her savor the aftershocks.

“Haa… haa…”

Catching her breath, she looked down.

Those green eyes, now darkened, gazed up at her with languid contentment.

They curved faintly, a smile of satisfaction — the smile of a zealot whose devotion had been fulfilled.