Translator: PastTimer
Editor: PastTimer
Proofreader: PastTimer
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Then, the assassin knelt.
He grabbed the emperor's legs with his hands and spread them even further. That part was right in front of him, and the emperor was neither hard nor wet. When the assassin's head moved closer, his lower abdomen tightened. The assassin touched his thigh appreciatively but goosebumps spread to wherever he touched, the assassin had to give up and lower his head.
The emperor's hand grabbed his shoulder suddenly, pushing him away like in reflex. But those fingers clenched and then loosened, seemingly thinking of his own situation and in the end, they just fell loosely on the assassin's shoulders. The heat in the bathroom failed to warm him, and the emperor's hands were cold. It wasn't like ice, but like melons and fruits in the summer, it felt quite pleasant in the hot bathroom. His hands were quite soft, only the joint that holds the pen was slightly rough. The assassin could feel his short nails, trimmed neatly and roundly, even if they tore at his back they wouldn't be able to scratch blood.
The scene of him scratching his back with both hands was a scene that made the assassin feel happy.
The emperor didn't notice his runaway mind. From the moment his mouth touched him, the emperor hadn't noticed anything else.
He gasped heavily as if trying to slow his breathing, but he was breathing even harder because he had held his breath for too long. The deliberately relaxed fingers grasped tighter and tighter, and the two legs resting on the assassin's shoulders also trembled and tensed, the heels digging against the assassin's back. The assassin twisted his tongue and the feet lying on his shoulder bounced, it was very interesting. The meat stick in his mouth hardened, and liquid leaked from the crack. The assassin licked it off, and the person's breath above him began to tremble.
The emperor's reaction was so great that the assassin was surprised, and he almost suspected that the other party was a virgin. The crack underneath must've been a restricted area, but had he never experienced a warm mouth? Even the most desolate drunkard could spend a few minutes looking for inferior prostitutes for that. But when the assassin swallowed in the end, the answer was clear as paper: Once they got close, this soft place would be served orally, there was nowhere to hide even if there was no light for illumination.
Even if the emperor had actually slept with someone as a man, such sex must've been hidden and uninteresting. The assassin imagined how he would have sex with the queen, he would inevitably blow out all the candles, perhaps still wearing his clothes. The emperor would keep everything firmly under his own hands, undressing, caressing, and penetrating step by step, he probably wouldn't allow the other party to even lay her hands on him. At that time, would his eyes still be cold and full of calculations? Was his heart occupied by his own secrets till the end, never extending interest to the well-being of his bed partner?
Without a doubt, he couldn't do that when he was with the assassin.
The emperor's penis was fully erected, the assassin spit him out and placed his tongue downwards. The gap was so delicate, like new flesh grown from a wound, even the soft touch of his tongue seemed much too heavy. Heavy breathing soon turned into panting, and then into uncontrollable moans. Soon, it's wasn't just saliva moistening the entrance. Sparkling water gurgled out and even wetted the assassin's beard. The assassin's tongue was greedy and evil, sweeping through every fold again and again, as if licking the last drop of honey from inside a jar.
"Ah!" The colour of blood smeared the emperor's cheeks, and it looked so beautiful against his porcelain skin that it could outmatch any rouge. His legs tensed, and his hands clung to the assassin's shoulders, as if to push away, or as if to press his head closer. The assassin could feel the other party's climax getting closer and closer, it was very fast, like a virgin who had never experienced such pleasure.
Then, the assassin heard a painful grunt.
It wasn't a sound made from too much comfort, it was just pain. The assassin stopped quickly, backed up a bit, and checked what went wrong- no one was hit, no one was pinched too hard...
Oh.
"This isn't a regular process, I assume?" The emperor said dryly.
His right calf and ankle had tensed too tightly from the pleasure, unfortunately cramping.
The assassin's lips twitched.
"Laugh if you want," The emperor said angrily.
This was the first time that His Majesty the Emperor had been unhappy in his presence. And now that he had permission, the assassin certainly didn't hold back.
"It's alright, there are much worse emergencies." He grinned, his conscience reassured, "My sleep was once interrupted three times when I was meeting some people in the tavern- twice it was being passed out drunk with a lass. Once, I fell asleep halfway. The next time, I woke up and found two slap prints on my face, the girl slapped me twice and I didn't wake up. Another time, my employer's wife asked me to go to the locker room and said, 'We have twenty minutes'; guessed what it was for? I almost used my dear life to untie her clothes. Twenty minutes passed and there were only three left."
"You should be glad I'm wearing a nightgown." said the emperor.
The assassin recalled the gorgeous and complicated court clothes on the portrait and nodded solemnly.
He then smiled and rubbed the emperor's leg, coaxing away the tangled muscles. The emperor's legs were tight, thin and stiff, lacking exercise like the rest of his body. The assassin couldn't help asking: "Do you even exercise?"
The emperor raised an eyebrow as if asking him why he suddenly brought up the topic of exercise.
"When was the last time you left the palace?" the assassin asked.
"In case you don't know," The emperor said dryly, "The palace is very big."
"One or two years ago? Three or four years ago?" The assassin prompted.
"..."
Your Majesty the Great Emperor, who remembered the assassin's former profession as a veteran that spent several years and months in a small civil war in the Northwest, frowned and fell into deep thought. In the end, to save face, he turned to say, "I often go for a walk in the garden."
"'Often'?"
"At least once a week."
"Your exercise is to walk in your backyard once a week?" The assassin opened his mouth, "Don't you have any entertainment?"
"Is there anything more entertaining than arguing about the limits of your possession in this world?" the emperor asked rhetorically.
"Almost anything." The assassin replied sincerely.
"That's why I sit in this position, not you." The emperor said complacently.
"That's why your leg cramps, not me." The assassin replied.
After all, he didn't really plan to stop. The assassin was a lone ranger, and he had to deal with injuries of all manners by himself, it wasn't a problem to deal with a cramped leg. The entangled tendons were rubbed apart, and he massaged down the legs to dispel the remaining pain and to prevent habitual cramps after a while.
Now, the emperor's slender ankle was completely in the assassin's hands. The assassin tried to hold it tightly and found that it could really be circled with just a hand. With the warm skin under his palm, he could feel his pulse, which was much more vital than it looked. The emperor had the skeleton of a man, with a thin layer of skin and bones, reminding one of an eagle or a stag.
Nobles always wore tailor-made boots, they never had to travel around, even the skin on the soles of his feet was smooth. The feet weren't petite but slender, the arches of the feet showed the outline of the bones, and the blue veins were faintly revealed under the pale skin, making them look translucent. The emperor's toenails were trimmed round and neat, like a row of polished pebbles.
The assassin never knew that he would be aroused by just a pair of feet.
The assassin gently bit down, wondering whether their texture was marble or glutinous rice- neither, just fresh, warm flesh. He left a row of tooth marks on the arch of his foot, licked a wet mark on the centre of his foot, and put his toe into his mouth. The emperor didn't take his feet back, there wasn't even an attempt. When the assassin looked up, he met another pair of eyes. The emperor's eyes glowed with emotion, and his pupils were greatly dilated.
"Go to bed," the emperor whispered.
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PastTimer: Smut incoming!!!