Stray

Adrian finally tightened his brows.

Even now, his mind was still calmly calculating the most rational way to deal with this. Jesse Dylan’s strength was above him, and his attitude seemed to be particularly determined. His resistance obviously wouldn’t bear fruit.

So the former knight commander did only one thing— He walked to the table and turned the small stone statue to the side of the wall. Under the fire of the chandelier, his pupils were almost black.

Jesse seemed to be completely amused by his approach. The beautiful blond young man laughed loudly, as if he had seen something terribly funny. He untied the light blue coat, threw it casually on the soft carpet, and then ripped the lining off his chest. After doing so, Jesse approached Adrian and deliberately let the hot and humid breath brush against knight’s cheek.

Adrian didn’t avoid but stood straight in place without saying a word.

“Are you nervous?” Jesse stretched out his hand, and his slender fingers untied the buckles on the high collar of the monk’s uniform one by one. The black long clothes were scattered on the ground, followed by the simple white lining. The blond young man’s fingers moved dexterously, sliding each button away silently, exposing the knight’s chest. His muscles were just right, and the wheat-colored skin looked like the color of warm honey under candlelight. It could be seen that he was treated well in the previous wars as there was no distorted or convex scars on his skin, only faint traces of it.

The battlefield-hardened knight looked a little dazed at the moment.

“What should I do now?” Adrian’s voice was flat. He raised his hands awkwardly, but finally put them down.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Jesse snorted. He leaned forward, pressed his face on other man’s cheek, and licked his ear, then felt with satisfaction the tautness of the body against his skin.