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"Tower Master Marcello," Matisse greeted, bowing respectfully to his colleague.
"Black Magic Senior Mage Matisse," Marcello responded in kind, dipping his head.
They continued down the hall side by side, a comfortable silence accompanying them. Their rivalry, if it could've ever been called that in the first place, was dissolved completely.
Not that Marcello minded, it was a nice change of pace to have a fellow mage as a tentative 'friend'. Especially now that Marcello was no longer a Chief Mage, he could spend more time with Matisse without the tension of being removed from his position. Not that that it was much tension, but it was the thought that counts.
"What's ailing you, Tower Master?"
Ah. Marcello had sighed, hadn't he? Habits before his cured curse still haven't died yet, it seemed.
"Nothing of much import, Senior Matisse. Merely lost in thought."
"Is that so?" Matisse responded, a lilt of surprise in his monotone voice. "How unlike you. Perhaps you're working too hard."
Shaking his head, Marcello had to agree. "Even so, it is worth the exhaustion if I can lighten Sir Hoyeol's burdens even a little. Compared to what he has to deal with, this is nothing."
"Even so, you need to take a break," Matisse stressed, dipping his head to look at Marcello. Not everyone could imitate Chief Lee's routine. "As it stands, I'm free at the moment, so perhaps I can assist you."
Marcello huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. Was Senior Matisse seriously propositioning him in the middle of the hallway? Where anyone could hear? How unbelievably daring.
But… perhaps he could portion some free-time for the man. The Mage Tower has become much different after Chief Lee appeared. Maybe lenient isn't the right word, but something close to it would do.
"Then allow me to wrap up some matters that need dealing with. It should only take a few minutes."
"Understood. Please meet me in my room once you're finished."
Knock knock
"It's Marcelo," he called after rapping his knuckles against the door. The door clicked open, revealing Matisse's pale face.
Opening the door wider, Matisse ushered Marcello in, "Come in, Tower Master. You finished up later than expected."
Marcello chuckled lightly, "Apologies, the time got away from me. My work turned out to require much more attention than I had expected."
"As expected of the Tower Master," Matisse hummed, trailing behind Marcello, spinning him around and carefully trapping him against the wall. He immediately set off to sliding off Marcello's thick, heavy cloak and began mouthing at his thin neck in a fervently.
Shuddering under the attention, Marcello wrapped his arms around Matisse's neck and tugging their bodies flush. It was too bad they were tight on time. They always preferred to take it nice and slow, savoring each and every coupling they had managed to make time for.
Breathy moans fell from the Tower Master's mouth as Matisse lathered his neck with attention. His legs had already gone weak, relying on the wall and Matisse to keep him upright. As if expecting it, the Dark Mage quickly wrapped mana around Marcello.
"I'm unsure how I should feel about your preparedness," Marcello chuckled, tilting his head ever so slightly. He gasped as Matisse immediately took the advantage, suckling the vulnerable skin just beneath his jaw until it was a deep red. "I'm touched you would pay such attention to my previously weak constitution, but my ego isn't faring too well with it."
"Oh dear, we can't have that. Let's speed this up, shall we?"
Matisse carefully turned Marcello to face the wall, supporting his body weight with thick ropes of mana. Deftly removing his belt, Marcello's pants and undergarments pooled around his feet, leaving him bare to the cool air of Matisse's room. Goosebumps immediately began littering his skin.
Taking a peek, Marcello felt his face begin to burn as he watched Matisse strip his legs bare. His eyes squeezed shut when Matisse kicked the clothes away, refusing to stare. It would be unbecoming of someone in his position.
Placing his soft hands around Marcello's hips, Matisse leaned in, whispering into his ear, "What's the matter, Tower Master? Are you still feeling shy?"
"Of course not! I'm just—!" Marcello gasped, his body jolting as a slick finger massaged his hole before carefully inserting itself. Bracing his arms against the wall, Marcello allowed his head to drop.
He moaned shamelessly as the finger pushed in and out, rubbing against his walls. The feeling of being opened began to drag his thoughts into a pleasant haze. Marcello let out a whimper, wiggling his hips when a second finger entered, scissoring gently.
"M-Matisse…" He whined, arching his back needily.
His free hand settled on the small of Marcello's back. "I know, I know. I'm almost done," Matisse assured, wrapping his mana soothingly against Marcello's sensitive skin. He inserted a third. "Patience is key, Tower Master."
A particular thrust has Marcello keening, Matisse's slender fingers hitting a sensitive nerve hidden in his velvety walls. He faintly registered a feather-light touch tracing his sunken cheeks, the shock of molten heat overriding nearly everything else.
Matisse peppered kisses against the side of his face. With each thrust, Matisse would nail Marcello's prostate. With each pull, his three fingers would separate, stretching the pliant rim they were fucking into.
Marcello's breaths grew heavy, his legs giving out completely. Behind him, Matisse praised him gently, "There you go. Relax, Tower Master. Release all that tension from your body."
The fingers retreated completely, leaving Marcello whining at the sudden emptiness. Rationally, Marcello knew that he wouldn't be feeling empty for long, but his more animalistic urges tried to say otherwise.
Just as quickly as the fingers left, a soft, spongy bulb pressed against his entrance. Matisse carefully fitted his torso against Marcello's arched back, holding their bodies tightly together.
"Ghk—" Marcello choked, his eyes rolling back as it slowly pressed deeper. The burn, minimal thanks to Matisse's prep, slowly grew into pleasure as his walls relaxed and accepted the cock sliding further and further into his body.
A weight fell on his shoulder as Matisse dropped his head. His brows were furrowed in concentration, struggling to maintain the slow insertion. The hands on Marcello's hips tensed, as if fighting the urge not to pull his ass onto the rest of his throbbing length.
Finally, after what felt like ages, Marcello could feel the full, heavy weight of Matisse inside him. He could feel the thick veins throbbing against his clenching walls, the labored breathing of Matisse in his ear, the burrowing of his face into the crook of Marcello's neck.
Marcello could feel the magic wrapping around him, the gentle mana traces floating in the air around them. The soft patterns danced in the air, proof of Matisse's love for him.
"Are you ready?" Matisse murmured, wrapping a fist around Marcello's leaking member.
"Y-Yes!!" Marcello jolted. The sudden sensation burned through his nerves, tightening the coil building in his stomach.
With a gentle slide, Matisse's cock exited Marcello. Meanwhile, his hand slowly dragged down Marcello's cock, eliciting pleasurable sensations from both sides. Leaving only the tip inside, Matisse waiting for only a second before pushing back in, groaning as he re-entered the addictive warmth.
Wet sounds filled the dark room as skin slapped against skin, lube forced out of Marcello's hole with every thrust. Marcello's mind slowly began to melt away.
Each thrust had Matisse to pumping the cock in his hand, confusing the Tower Master's hips on whether they should chase his hand or meet the sharp thrusts. His body twitched violently as Marcello moaned, "I-I'm gonna come—!"
All Matisse could manage was a grunt, his roughening thrusts agreeing with the Tower Master's words. The hand around Marcello's cock picked up the pace, pulling and tugging at the loose skin with purpose now.
"Ah, ah!" Marcello panted. His muscles tensed, his back arching harshly and—
White sprayed into Matisse's hand, shooting past his fingers and into the air like a jet. Ropes of cum splashed against the wall, dripping steadily down and staining the dark wallpaper white.
The steady pace Matisse had set began to grow sloppy, his hips stuttering after each thrust. His magic wrapped possessively around Marcello, dark tendrils looping around skinny limbs and ribs.
Finally, after one final thrust, Matisse stilled, deeply seating himself into Marcello and pushing him roughly against the wall.
Marcello's stomach grew sticky with his spend, but his mind was too far gone to care. The only thing he could focus on was the rapid expand of his stomach as cum was pumping into him. A small bump formed—a distension caused by his too skinny of a frame—as Matisse continued to pump him full.
Marcello rested his cheek against the cool wall, feeling his eyes droop with fatigue. He vaguely felt Matisse pull out, his loosened hole letting semen trail between his legs. What a ticklish sensation.
Warm magic bundled around Marcello's bony body, cleaning him inside and out before depositing him gently into Matisse's plush bed. A soft kiss is placed on his forehead as he drifted to sleep, nuzzling comfortably into the silky sheets with a content sigh.