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An alleyway in Boulder Town. In a corner of this town where everywhere is dim, clad in a particularly deep darkness, that man was slumped over.
White armor smeared with mud and crimson hair, leaning against the outer wall of a private house with head hanging low. In his right hand resting on the ground, he holds a smartphone, but mud has splattered onto its vibrant red case as well.
His face, looking downward, is obscured by his side hair, making his expression difficult to discern. However, if one were to approach closely, they would notice that his breathing is labored to an extraordinary degree.
To that scene, a single set of footsteps was added.
Splashing through the mud, walking with unreserved long strides, they came to a halt in front of the knight, and at the same moment, thrust the gun gripped in their right hand forward. The muzzle was pointed toward the head that remained hanging low.
The gunman's voice rang out with grim seriousness.
"D'ya have any idea what the fudge you've gone and done?"
To that simple inquiry, neither affirmation nor denial returned from the knight.
It was only yesterday that a certain Knight of Beauty was summoned to the recovering Jarilo-VI. He had been requested to lend his wisdom to initiatives connecting the Administrative District and Boulder Town, as well as to the city's design.
The knowledge of the knight, who had traveled to various planets, was truly that of a living dictionary; for a period of time, it was decided he would stay in the Administrative District while visiting various locations and participating in meetings to exchange opinions.
On the first day, time ran out just by touring the Administrative District, and it was only on the second day that the knight finally made his way to Boulder Town. Even just by doing a lap around, he stood out. Every resident noticed the visitor from afar, but they did not venture to mention it, nor did the knight proactively try to speak to them.
Until he entered a certain tavern.
The knight entering a tavern in Boulder Town was out of mere curiosity. It was also because he remembered his partner who, whenever they went to a foreign land, would tour taverns in search of malt juice. That partner is currently on a different planet. Since they both have their own respective business and it is difficult to coordinate their schedules, the two of them basically act separately.
Upon entering the tavern, the knight's eyes caught a single sight. At the table seat furthest in the back. A pair consisting of a man and a woman were sitting opposite each other. Since the adjacent table seat was empty, the knight sat there.
As he strained his ears, he could hear the man attempting to woo the woman. He ordered water and a baguette from the staff who came to take his order—the staff left with a puzzled look, but the knight did not see it—and continued his observation.
A place like a tavern tends to be lively regardless, but this establishment was a relatively quiet one. There were many customers drinking alone at the counter, and the table seats were filled only with customers talking calmly in small groups. Therefore, that pair appeared very strange in the eyes of the knight.
Their clothing was no different from the other residents of Boulder Town. While the man appeared to be in his fifties, the woman appeared to be in her twenties. As could be understood from hearing the wooing, it was not the atmosphere of a father and daughter. However, it was not strange for such a couple to exist. The difference in age was also not something noteworthy for the knight.
What concerned him was the woman's expression. Occasionally, she would cast a glance as if peering around the inside of the shop. His intuition told the knight that she was seeking help.
However, whether the other customers and staff in the shop did not notice that gaze, or noticed it and dared to ignore it, no one tried to speak to them.
The man was incessantly recommending drinks. Getting someone drunk to win them over is a conventional tactic, but the knight's eyes clearly saw it.
The moment when, while the woman's gaze was turned away, the man's hand moved and he dripped liquid into the woman's drink from a small dropper-like container held between his fingertips.
"Excuse me."
The knight stood up and spoke to the man.
"What is it?"
The man's face darkened in irritation as he looked up at the knight. Toward the man who was bracing himself, the knight asked, placing one hand respectfully against his own chest.
"Would you be willing to admit that the beauty of Idrila, Goddess of Beauty, is unparalleled in the world?"
"Huh...?"
"How about it?"
"What are you talking about...? I'm not admitting anything."
"I see. Then, it cannot be helped."
The knight's hand reached for the woman's glass. He whispered in a low voice to the woman who looked up in bewilderment.
"Once I put my lips to this, please run at full speed."
Without waiting for the woman to nod, the knight drained the contents of the glass. While the man stared with wide eyes at that sight, the woman stood up and dashed away at full speed.
However, the knight's odds were naive.
The customers and the staff—everyone was an accomplice of the man.
The woman could not even leave the tavern and was captured immediately.
Strength drained from the entire body of the knight who had consumed the alcohol containing the mysterious liquid, and he collapsed on the spot. He was carried outside by several people. After receiving a round of assault in an alleyway out of public sight, the knight was left as he was.
The assault itself was not a significant matter for the knight. Because of the armor, it was likely those who attacked him who had hurt their fists. However, the liquid the man had spiked the drink with was more troublesome.
Since the man had wanted to woo the woman, the knight had a general idea of the liquid's identity. Since he did not wish to kill her, it was not poison.
A drug that relaxes the body, or otherwise exerts an intoxicating, hypnotic, or aphrodisiac effect. Whichever it happened to be, he had not thought its effect would be so fatal.
The fact that the entire shop were accomplices, and the fact that the drug's effect appeared so quickly and strongly—everything had exceeded the knight's expectations.
He thought of the woman who could not escape.
At the very least, he had not ended up just silently watching her be drugged. However, since she had been captured, the possibility of her being made to drink the same drug was high.
I must go to help her.
Even as he thought so, he was assailed by a sweet throbbing that he could not resist with willpower alone, and the knight was barely even able to breathe. He could not stand up yet.
His mud-smeared right hand was gripping his smartphone before he knew it. Even though he was doing nothing, every time he stirred slightly, he reached a climax and his body shuddered. Pleasure, frustration, exhaustion, and a sense of duty came and went in the knight's heart, but the only thing that was constantly clear was the pleasure.
"Hah... ah, ...ngh...!"
Unstoppable sounds escaped him. He managed to raise his body and leaned against the outer wall of a private house. Then, he attempted voice input into his smartphone.
"Help... me..."
Scarcely one system hour after the message was sent along with the coordinates of Boulder Town. It leads to the scene where the gunman arrives and points his muzzle at the knight.
What the knight had consumed along with the alcohol was a fast-acting aphrodisiac.
"Hey, don't go fallin' asleep on me now. I'm askin' ya again... d'ya have any idea what the fudge you've gone and done?"
The muzzle remained lowered toward his head, but Argenti's brain was not in a state to think about anything properly. He soothed his trembling breaths, passing through the repeated waves of climax.
His instinct was craving human touch. That was why he had sought help from his partner, yet he could not understand why he was being held at gunpoint the moment they arrived.
"...Ya already broken?"
"No..."
Argenti squeezed out his voice. Boothill narrowed his eyes and readjusted his aim.
"It has been a long time. ...I do not understand... why you are angry..."
As Argenti murmured while remaining slumped over, Boothill grew incensed, and his expression became even more grim.
"There is someone... I wish for you to save... in that tavern back there..."
"Son of a nice lady! There was someone ya wanted to save in there? Say that kinda shirt first. I already finished 'em all off."
"Everyone...?"
"Ah—... one woman got away... is that enough for ya?"
"...Yes, that is enough."
"Ain't that pathetic, comin' from you. Couldn't even save one woman...? What happened? D'ya get dull while we wasn't seein' each other for a spell?"
Even when spoken to in such a provocative manner, Argenti could not lift his face. Instead, he nodded as if slumping further down.
"So it... seems... I failed to see through... anything... a blunder..."
"Hey now."
Boothill crouched down and pressed the muzzle of his gun against Argenti's temple.
"Shirt, I ain't lookin' to hear no whinin'... I mean, at this point, how're ya still thinkin' 'bout other folks? Seems like y'all ain't hurtin' too bad yet."
"I am not..."
Argenti did not move. He did not even try to pull away from the muzzle that was slightly searing his temple.
"...all right."
Hearing that raspy voice, Boothill clicked his tongue once, tucked his gun into its holster, and wrapped an arm around Argenti's back to lend him a shoulder.
"Can ya stand?"
Argenti stood up cautiously. Until one system hour ago, he could not stand, but it seemed the drug was beginning to wear off slightly.
"Where to..."
Argenti asked while walking supported by Boothill. The town's residents were, as usual, curt toward the two strangers. Rumors of the carnage Boothill had caused at the tavern had already spread.
"Over yonder."
What Boothill indicated with his gaze was the Goethe Grand Hotel.
They were shown to a simple room containing only a basic double bed, a writing desk, a table, and a closet. Sitting on the bed, Argenti began to remove his armor himself. Boothill hung his hat on a hanger, then stood by the window, opening the curtain slightly to keep watch below.
"How much... do you know?"
Argenti asked in a tone that still had not shed its sluggishness. He was trying his best to speak as usual, but if he relaxed his focus even a little, he would find pleasure even in the armor rubbing against his skin.
"I came here followin' the coordinates... went to take a look 'cause the tavern seemed cattywampus... and I heard everythin' from the folks inside. They was helpful enough to talk easy for me. Heard ya went and drank some aphrodisiac yourself just to save some girl who was fixin' to be played with by the leader-type fella."
"I did not know... it was an aphrodisiac,"
"Huh?"
Boothill's voice grew even lower. He walked right up to Argenti, who had removed his armor and was down to his innerwear, and grabbed the collar of his sweat-dampened shirt.
"...Ya drank it without knowin'...? Muddle-fudger, it might not've ended with just a fudging aphrodisiac."
"That is..."
Argenti tried to say that there was enough basis to believe it was not poison, but Boothill cut him off immediately.
"If your life is that cheap, then y'all ain't gonna complain if I'm the one who finishes ya off, right?"
Today, for the first time, the eyes of the two met properly.
Boothill's well-featured face was flushed with anger, making his displeasure plain, but for Argenti, just being stared at made his drug-stimulated instincts crave the other. He contorted his face at that agony.
"I admit that I was indeed... careless. Since it was a peaceful planet headed toward recovery... I thought it would not result in... anything so terrible... but, why do you..."
Argenti took a breath. Boothill's body heat was close.
He thought to reach out, but fearing to touch Boothill in his current state of fury, he ultimately did nothing. Without averting his eyes, he piled on more words.
"Why it is... that you are so angry... I do not understand..."
"...Ya sayin' that for real?"
"...Yes."
"Ya really are a shirtbag of a fella."
Boothill spat out the words and pushed Argenti down onto the bed as if shoving him away. Hardly any strength remained in Argenti now. Entrusting his head to the thin pillow, he looked up at Boothill with his disheveled hair scattered across the sheets. Looking closely, even his hair, which usually had a strong luster, was splattered with mud.
"......"
Remaining mounted over his torso, Boothill silently rolled up Argenti's innerwear. Whether he had been beaten or kicked severely over his armor, fresh bruises were scattered here and there.
"Boothill,"
Exposed to the air, Argenti called out, unable to bear it, but Boothill only narrowed his eyes. Then, he spoke.
"...Don't go lettin' folks other than me do as they please with your body."
"...What,"
Thinking he might have misheard, Argenti widened his eyes. Boothill's gaze was already lowered and averted.
"That, just now..."
Boothill pulled away from Argenti, who had murmured more like a monologue than a question. He got off the bed and returned to the window once more. He peered outside through the gap in the curtains.
"That drug... heard it's quick to kick in, but quick to fade too. If time's gonna solve it, then just stay still."
Hearing that, Argenti rolled onto his side and gazed at Boothill with an earnest plea. Simply enduring it was too painful.
"But—"
"Don't go makin' such a pathetic voice, fudge."
After a single word of rebuke, Boothill closed the curtains, sat on the table, and faced Argenti.
"...If we did it now, I wouldn't know if y'all was feelin' it 'cause of me or 'cause of the fudgin' drug."
"......"
Argenti was bewildered.
He understood that his having taken the drug of his own accord had earned Boothill's displeasure. Even after learning the reason was for the sake of helping someone, that anger did not waver. In other words, on one side of Boothill's scales, there must be something resting heavily, weightier than Argenti's self-sacrifice.
If that were the case, what was it?
Argenti's bewilderment lay in the fact that he could not clearly state its identity.
"If y'all got somethin' to say, fudgin' say it."
While being prompted by Boothill, the words he had just heard were circulating inside Argenti.
"Don't go lettin' folks other than me do as they please with your body."
"If we did it now, I wouldn't know if y'all was feelin' it 'cause of me or 'cause of the fudgin' drug."
Suddenly, a thought occurred to Argenti, and he asked.
"Why was it that you defeated every person in the tavern?"
"Huh? 'Cause they laid their shirts on ya, obviously."
Boothill answered immediately, albeit with irritation.
Argenti finally understood and closed his eyes. Apart from the effects of the aphrodisiac, his heart felt a gentle warmth.
"...I see."
It was true that the two of them were fond of each other, and were in a relationship where they would touch and couple whenever they met. However, on the other hand, the basic nature of their relationship was a casual one, where each traveled the stars and contacted the other on a whim.
It was the first time that such a clear possessiveness had been directed at him from Boothill—and once he understood that it was possessiveness, joy outweighed bewilderment—and the corners of Argenti's mouth curved into an arc.
If that were the case, he could also understand the anger toward his having jumped into the trap of his own accord. Argenti opened his eyes and gazed back at Boothill.
"I have nothing else I wish to say. I shall endure it alone."
After rolling over to turn his back to Boothill, he pulled the duvet up firmly to cover his shoulders. An unresolvable heat had been smoldering all along. While they were conversing, it had been somewhat distracted, but once that ended, his entire body began to be simmered in desire. Still, since he had said he would endure, he intended to endure. He had no choice but to believe the words that it was quick to kick in but also quick to fade.
I want him not to look.
Argenti thought so earnestly.
All the while, he felt Boothill's gaze from behind. It was being poured onto the back of his head, onto his back. Being watched made him feel as though he might start having impure thoughts just from that.
Because I will become unable to endure, I want him not to look.
On the other hand, the reason he could not say it was because being watched felt too good.
"Ngh... hah, ...nn..."
He let out his heating breath. He clenched both hands tightly at his chest, disciplining himself not to touch anywhere.
This was because he thought that Boothill, having bared his possessiveness, would likely not approve of Argenti comforting himself either.
However, even though he was not touching anywhere, only the waves of pleasure were becoming stronger and stronger again. Boothill's gaze was still being poured on him. He recalled the moment their eyes met, and along with it, he recalled the pleasure of his skin being toyed with by those cold, hard fingertips.
The more he thought he must not, the more Argenti recalled the realistic sensations. Imagining the fingertips that always carefully traced and exposed his skin, his flesh crawled, his hips grew heavy, and he felt as though he were about to spread his legs.
Because he had been driven to climax multiple times since immediately after taking the drug, his lower body was already a mess. The fact that new pre-cum was seeping out did not bother him at all, but Argenti shuddered, feeling that it would not end with just that.
In contrast to his reason which said he would endure alone, the inside of his body was pleading to be filled. Not only could he not suppress the desire to be pierced and reach his end by Boothill, but he even began to try to supplement it with imagination alone.
His memory spontaneously unraveled the sensation of his anus being pried open and the sensation of Boothill's silicone penis filling him to the depths and pulsing, and began to deceive his body.
"Ah, ah... no... this... ngh, nnn... mm... nngh!!"
Even though it was nothing more than mere imagination, the moment he recalled being poured into with hot semen deep inside, Argenti reached his peak. Argenti was not confident whether it could truly be called the influence of the drug.
Even without the drug, his desire might have grown so much that he could have reached it through imagination alone. The imagined pleasure was vivid enough to make him think so. Even while he steadied his disturbed breathing, his insides repeatedly contracted in search of Boothill, and he felt as though he were about to sink entranced into that pleasure while again unconsciously imagining it.
"Look at me."
A single phrase falling from above brought Argenti back to reality. Before he knew it, Boothill had climbed onto the bed and was looking down, mounted over him.
"Boothill...?"
The expression on Argenti's face as he rolled over and looked up was beyond even Boothill's imagination. Cheeks flushed crimson, lips that could not close with saliva trailing from them, and eyes so moist they looked as if they might melt.
"Tch... Feel it from me."
After clicking his tongue clearly, Boothill kissed Argenti's lips.
"Ngh... mm...!"
Like rain soaking into parched sand, Argenti clung to Boothill's lips repeatedly, seeking them. Wanting to beg for a wet tongue, the moment Argenti tried to entwine both arms around his neck, Boothill swiftly pulled back.
"Ngh...!"
"Y'all ain't allowed to touch me yet. Wouldn't be no punishment otherwise, would it?"
Argenti knitted his brows as if troubled. He did not know if he could exercise self-control. However, for now, he had no choice but to obey.
Boothill gathered both of Argenti's wrists, holding them with his right hand and making him raise them above his head. While gently restraining him in that manner, he let the palm of his left hand crawl over his ears, the nape of his neck, and his chest. It was the exact same movement Argenti had been imagining.
"Ugh... ah... ahh... My voice, on its own..."
"It's fine, don't go holdin' back. Y'all been pantin' since long before I even touched ya anyway."
"Ngh... Being watched by you... I ended up feeling it... ah... hah... ah."
Fingertips hooked onto nipples that were peaked and hardened. While looking down at those fingertips with expectation, Argenti clenched his fists. The frustration of wanting to touch but being unable to touch mounted, but since Boothill would not allow it, it could not be helped.
"Heh... So y'all peaked just from me watchin' ya?"
It would have been better if he had teased him, saying it was a bizarre hobby.
However, what Argenti sensed from Boothill's murmured voice was a very simple, instinctive satisfaction and pleasure. A shiver of flesh-crawling sensation ran down his spine.
"Is it... not disgusting...? Ngh..."
The moment he asked, his lips were sealed in place of an answer. His mouth was overran by a tongue being thrust inside, and both his words and his breaths were stolen.
While initiating a one-sided kiss in that way, Boothill kept his eyes slightly open to see Argenti's expression. He could see that anxiety and pleasure were coexisting all along, dominating his emotions in turns. He thought that, pleasure aside, the fact that he was making him feel anxiety might be due to the immaturity of their relationship.
However, putting aside such matters, Boothill loves Argenti. He feels like rushing to him immediately whenever help is requested, and there is no limit to the affection he wants to give.
Separately from that, he also felt a possessiveness at the same time that would not allow him to be harmed by others. When he heard the story at the tavern, his guts boiled to an inexpressible degree, and his self-restraint failed. The fact that he had neutralized the crowd at the tavern in a matter of seconds spoke to the sheer intensity of that emotion.
When Boothill released Argenti's wrists, which he had been grasping together, he loosened his own bottoms while continuing the kiss. It was not as though he had been begged, but as a means to fulfill the desire to be connected—which is a kind of affection—that both harbored, the genitals were there, and Argenti loved being filled by it enough that he had reached his peak through imagination earlier.
"Ngh......"
Finally, their lips parted, and the thread of saliva snapped.
"Darn... y'all are soak'd through, darlin'."
"Ah... nn... ngh."
Boothill's fingertips probed between Argenti's legs. While bending his knees and spreading his legs, groans of feeling the touching fingertips escaped. Argenti timidly extended his arms and entwined them around Boothill's neck. This time, he was not stopped.
"...Please."
Begging in a small voice, he lifted his hips slightly. When a certain mass was thrust into that place which was as if clad in love-juice, Argenti's body stiffened and shuddered, and he reached a light climax.
"Hah, aahh... ngh, somehow, more than usual..."
"I know... That's the effect of that shirtbag drug, ain't it?"
"Ah, ah...!"
Unable to bear it as he was thrust upward, Argenti's voice grew high-pitched. Experiencing a pleasure and sense of fulfillment that could not be obtained through imagination, droplets slowly trailed from the corners of his green eyes.
"Boothill...!"
"Ngh......"
In the quiet room of the Goethe Grand Hotel, the sound of fluids echoed, and hurried breaths were exchanged. The affection conveyed by the two pairs of eyes gazing at each other was proportional to the intensity and depth of the rhythm——
"......ngh, hah..."
Three system hours had passed since Argenti was drugged. Contrary to the information that it would fade quickly, he was still being tormented by its effects. No matter how many times he reached his peak, the feverishness did not subside.
"I am sorry... that this is dragging on so long..."
"Ah? Whether it's some stubborn medicine or it just happens t'be too compatible with y'all... information from those kinda fellas ain't worth a shirt. No need t'go worryin' 'bout it."
"...Thank you. Um, will you still... stay with me?"
"Yeah, I ain't goin' nowhere."
After answering immediately, Boothill took out several objects that looked like metal parts from his left arm and pinched them with the fingertips of his right hand.
"......?"
Although he noticed the gesture, Argenti could not react immediately and stared blankly. He could not understand what the parts were.
Boothill did not particularly try to explain; he brushed aside Argenti's hair with the fingertips of his left hand and touched the right side of his neck. Argenti's body shuddered, reacting to that alone.
"...This spot's good."
Among the parts he had taken out, he brought one with a sharp tip close to the neck.
"It's gonna hurt, so y'all can cry if ya want... but right now, it might just feel good."
"What do you... ngh, nnn...!!"
A needle pierced the thin skin of the neck, penetrating vertically. After the needle was withdrawn, a red tongue crawled over the overflowing blood, but that too stopped quickly, and a barbell piercing slowly passed through the skin.
While having a hole opened in his neck and metal passed through, Argenti's body trembled minutely. Just as Boothill had predicted, it was the result of his senses, made sensitive by the aphrodisiac, processing this pain as pleasure.
"Hah, ah......"
"There... all done. Wanna take a look-see, darlin'?"
Boothill picked up the smartphone and showed Argenti's neck reflected in the dark screen.
"A piercing... is it?"
"Looks mighty fine on ya."
"......,"
After gazing at the piercing for a while, Argenti looked away from the smartphone and up at Boothill, murmuring.
"...It is the first time I have known."
"Hmm?"
"That you, Boothill, wish to keep me all to yourself."
"How 'bout you?"
"My true feelings are the same. ...I wish to keep you all to myself."
Argenti touched the newly placed piercing with his fingertips. The metal passing through the inside of his body felt pleasant, as if it were pulsing along with his heart, throb by throb.
"Therefore, this time,"
Removing his hand from the piercing, Argenti's fingertips traced Boothill's jaw to his neck and down to his chest.
"Please let me... carve something into you, from me."
As if to indicate consent or welcome, Boothill brought his face close to Argenti and sank his body into the sheets. The parts that were still connected began to make a wet, squelching sound, and a raspy, lewd cry echoed.
And so, their long-awaited tryst was painted over even more thickly and deeply.
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