The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]
Chapter 415: Spot

Chapter 415: Spot

It was the middle of the night, and somewhere on Planet Nova, a certain guide was undergoing a life-changing experience.

Xavier leaned in, brushing his lips against Luca’s in a kiss so smooth it felt like a dream. And the wobbly heir? He melted. Heart thudding and skin buzzing like he’d been touched by lightning.

And his brain? Turned into dough. The soft one. The kind that, when pinched and touched, would recover again as if asking to be touched once more.

Yes, he was definitely like that kind, one that barely even noticed the shift in weight until Xavier’s hands started roaming—slow, deliberate, like he was kneading a very precious, seriously blushing dough.

Warmth curled beneath his skin. The prince’s hands traveled lower while his mouth ghosted over Luca’s neck, planting kisses and licking like they had nothing but time. Each one made Luca feel like a wire pulled taut.

Then Xavier reached Luca’s chest, and—oh stars above—his thumbs found their way to the sensitive peaks there. A slow circle. A flick.

Luca jolted.

He gasped, fingers suddenly reaching for the sheets to ask for who knows what.

His back arched involuntarily, breath hitching as Xavier did it again—and again—until Luca trembled, his hands clenching helplessly at the sheets beneath them.

"You’re beautiful," Xavier murmured, lips pressed against the shell of his ear, and the poor little fox had to do everything in his power not to combust.

But the prince who had been watching him had a different reaction. Encouraged by the response, his hands slid lower, fingers teasingly gliding between Luca’s thighs. He traced a line just beneath the swell of Luca’s now hard and flushed member, only to stop somewhere that seemed foreign to a certain someone.

He paused.

Their eyes met. Xavier’s gaze was steady, but it was Luca who froze. His eyes flew wide as realization hit—those fingers were not just wandering anymore.

"T-there?" he squeaked, sounding utterly surprised.

Xavier stopped. Blinked. Then tilted his head as he waited for his little chipmunk to arrange his thoughts.

Luca flushed from ears to chest, brain scrambling. "Really?"

Meanwhile, the surprisingly prepared husband bit back a laugh and looked at him with all the patience of a saint. And maybe a tiny bit of mischief.

The little guide bit his lip, breath caught, eyes wide, and only when he remembered the images he usually tried to bury in his head did he realize why those fingers were there.

"Is...is it actually possible?" He asked a question that surprised even the tense man before him.

Xavier didn’t expect to be asked if it were really possible, but the prince, who knew how his wife’s mind prioritized different things, shouldn’t have been surprised. So he composed himself.

"Yes, but we need to prepare you so you don’t get hurt, although even then, it might still be uncomfortable." He said, telling him about the possibility of being hurt, so he’d be able to make a choice.

But surprisingly, he nodded—shaky but trusting. "O-okay. What do I do to prepare? Please help me."

Luca was likely unaware, but to this husband, who was watching his determined but trembling eyes, this was probably the cutest request for assistance he’d ever received.

Especially since it was basically a request to be fingered.

Xavier, who couldn’t help but be amused, exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and retrieved a bottle from his space button.

"Tell me if anything feels wrong. Or if you want me to stop," he said gently, uncapping the lube and warming it between his fingers. "Promise me."

"Okay, I promise," Luca whispered, cheeks flushed, eyes never leaving his husband’s.

Xavier began.

Luca wanted to grab a pillow or a coat, but the moment a finger rubbed lightly against his entrance, the little guide could only bite into his lip.

One finger.

Slow. Careful. Gentle. He circled the entrance with ease, coaxing past the first resistance. Luca let out a shaky sigh, thighs twitching, breath turning shallow.

"You’re doing so well," Xavier murmured, lips brushing his jaw. "So, so good. Just keep breathing."

Two fingers.

There was a stretch. Not painful, or definitely not the type of pain that he had expected, just startling. Luca whimpered and hid his face in Xavier’s shoulder, the flush down his chest darkening. His nails dug in as his legs tried to hook around the prince.

Three fingers.

Xavier took his time. Thorough. Gentle. Maddening. Each glide of his fingers stroked nerves that had never been touched, igniting trails of pleasure that made Luca shake. He was trying so hard to stay still, but his hips kept rocking.

Heat met cool. A sharp gasp. Luca’s muscles fluttered, clenching helplessly. His whole body trembled like a leaf caught in a storm. That contrast—Xavier’s cold finger meeting the heat inside him—sent sparks ricocheting through his spine

"Hnnng," Luca whimpered, burying his face deeper, legs falling open. His voice hitched with every twist of Xavier’s fingers. His moans were soft but desperate—a chorus of surprise and surrender.

Then Xavier curled his fingers.

"!!!"

Luca cried out. A high, cracked sound escaped him—half-shock, half-something electric.

"Wha-whaaa!"

His eyes trembled, wide and glistening, like he’d been caught in a private quake made just for him.

And it was a quake so hard he shattered once more.

He was panting, unknowingly gripping onto Xavier like his life depended on him.

"Wh-what was that?" he whispered, stunned, and his voice hoarse from suddenly having to use actual words.

Xavier hummed lowly, pleased with himself. "That was your spot."

Luca blinked rapidly, like trying to reboot. His lips parted. Then closed. Then parted again. "Spot?"

Xavier leaned in, brushing a kiss to his damp cheek. "Yes, that’s how I will take care of you."

It started with the sounds of a pants zipper being pulled down.

And suddenly, the poor little fox who wanted everything had a sudden epiphany.

This was probably how he was going to die, just as he asked his brother to take care of Xavier before; maybe this was the prince’s weapon of choice.