Chapter 28 - Snow White's Son

Translator's Note:

Hello, I hope you've all been doing well.

Here you go, and I wish you a good read.

And as I said before, if you wish to read ahead, you can head over to my Patreon to get early access to all the translated chapters.

Crow was unrelenting, continuing to explore every inch of Kyle, his lips pressing against he small hole at the tip, where a tiny drop of moisture had gathered in the sunlight filtering through the window. That single pearl glistened, a promise of the storm to come.

 

"Mmm... nn..."

 

Tracing the bulge and drawing a gentle curve, Crow's tongue penetrated the underside of the meat cap. As it persistently traced the delicate curve, a single drop of crystal-clear liquid formed, its weight gathering like dew on a petal before it slipped down, drawing a slow, meandering path along the swelling flesh, disappearing beneath the hood of tender skin.

 

"Snow White... no more... please... step back...," Kyle begged, his voice a broken whisper, tinged with desperation.

 

Attempting to push himself up on his elbows, Kyle's arm faltered, slipping from the chaise's edge. His hand fell to the floor with a soft thud, only to cause his back to sink further into the seat, betraying him even more.

 

The turmoil was written all over Kyle's face—the struggle to resist, the shame of his own response, and the fear of losing himself to the temptation that Crow's love offered. His head thrashed from side to side, golden hair tumbling wildly as he gasped, "Please... stop this..."

 

"Brother... I love you... I will free you from this curse," Crow whispered, his voice filled with conviction and unshaken by Kyle's protests.

 

Taking advantage of Kyle's weakened posture, Crow engulfed his brother's straining manhood in his mouth. The instant his lips closed around it, Kyle's knees buckled, but Crow's body held him firmly in place, bearing down with his weight. Though he could feel the faint resistance in his brother's limbs, Crow knew Kyle's heart. There was no longer any need for restraint.

 

"Ah... mm...," Kyle moaned, his voice catching in his throat as Crow took him in deeper than ever before.

 

Crow moved with purpose, sliding his lips from the root to the swollen tip with deliberate care, his hands tracing the shape of the pulsing length. Each time he withdrew, his tongue teased and licked at the sensitive head, seeking out the sweetness that lingered there. The warmth of his brother's essence was like nectar, filling Crow's senses with a heady, intoxicating bliss.

 

"Mmm... nn..."

 

He used his hard, pointed tongue as if to thrust it into the tube. It dug into the hole, seeking the nectar. The taste began to change, subtly at first, from something faint and nearly flavorless to a bolder, richer essence—a taste brimming with life. Soon, the drops flowing from Kyle's body grew thicker, a sign of what was to come.

 

Brother's milk... soon, it will be mine... Crow thought with desperate longing, the desire to taste and drink every last drop overcoming him.

 

Crow writhed in thirst as he licked his genitals enthusiastically.

 

He wanted to tangle his tongue around the semen that the elves called milk, savor it, and drink it all up without leaving a single drop behind. Just the thought of being able to drink Kyle's made his body tingle.

 

"Ah... mm...!"

 

Crow's head bobbed, his movements becoming faster, more fervent, and with each motion, his own hips lifted in unconscious desire. Though he had never known the pleasure of being filled, he felt an ache within, deep in the core of his being, an eager anticipation for something yet unexperienced. He longed to be one with his brother, to feel the physical embodiment of Kyle's love buried within him.

 

The closer Kyle came to release, the tighter Crow's heart constricted, filled with a love so intense it threatened to burst.

 

"Ah... nn...!" Kyle cried, his back arching as if pulled by unseen strings, the muscles of his chest tightening as his body reached its peak.

 

With a final cry, hot liquid burst from Kyle, spilling into Crow's waiting mouth. Crow eagerly swallowed, though his efforts to savor it all were quickly overwhelmed. The flow was relentless, and Crow found himself drinking as quickly as he could, lest he fall behind. It was thick, heady, and filled with a warmth that ignited something primal in Crow's soul.

 

He felt satisfied for only a moment, and then he couldn't stop wanting more.

 

"Stop... no more... I was wrong," Kyle gasped, his voice strained as if from a great internal struggle.

 

"Brother..." Crow whispered, his voice heavy with longing and disbelief.

 

To Crow, this was but the beginning—a sacred moment, the first of many. Yet Kyle, it seemed, saw it as an end. With a newfound strength, Kyle pushed him away, this time with enough force to break the bond between their bodies.

 

Despite the separation, Crow's tears remained silent. He watched as Kyle hastily adjusted his disheveled clothes, his rejection unmistakable.

 

"Why, brother? How can you still see me only as your brother? I refuse to believe such words now, not after this. I know... I know you feel the same as I do," Crow's voice trembled with the weight of his unshed tears.

 

"Why? Because... we are brothers, Crow. And though I may love you—yes, more than a brother should—it is one thing to feel it in the heart and another to act upon it. Just as desiring something does not give you the right to take it, as hating someone does not give you the right to harm them, I cannot... I must not... love you in this way," Kyle's voice grew firmer, his rejection resolute.

 

Crow swallowed the bitter lump in his throat, unable to argue with the conviction in Kyle's words, silence wrapping around him like a shroud, as tears welled in his eyes.

 

An overwhelming swell of grief and rage roiled within him, emotions swirling like a tempest in his mind. It was both a comfort and a curse that Kyle had acknowledged the existence of this forbidden love, yet a pang of pity tugged at Crow's heart for the brother who suppressed such a tremendous yearning.

 

But knowing that Kyle would not conquer these feelings left Crow with a sorrowful weight; it felt as though his very heart was being gnawed at by the disappointment of unfulfilled desire.

 

"Forgive me, Snow White..." Kyle's voice, barely a whisper, was laced with remorse.

 

Crow listened in silence, his gaze cast downward as he let tears fall, each one a silent testament to his heart's anguish.

 

His brother, in his timidity, lacked the courage to embrace the truth of his feelings. Crow yearned to implore him, to urge him to live more honestly, but he bit down on his lip, holding back the words that threatened to spill forth.

 

Kyle, who loathed the baseness of his actions more than anyone, strove for a life of virtue and respect, and Crow understood that desire. For seventeen years, he had been nurtured and sheltered by elves and his brother, and he had no right to blame Kyle for the circumstances that had befallen them.

 

It was selfish to denounce Kyle's way of life simply because his own desires lay unfulfilled. As Kyle had said, there was a chasm between grumbling in one's heart and speaking it aloud. Though he could not escape the feeling of discontent, such thoughts were best swallowed in silence.

 

"Leave me be. I must quiet both my body and spirit..." he murmured, his heart heavy.

 

In a haze of muddled thoughts, Crow reached for the unfinished shawl lying nearby. Grasping it firmly, he turned away from Kyle and settled back onto the settee, trying to distract himself by gripping the knitting needles tightly, plunging into his work with fervor.

 

He believed that shifting his focus was the only way to quiet the storm within, but as his hands moved, his heart remained ensnared in that tangled web of emotions.

 

Though he loved his brother and was loved in return, the bitter truth was that he had failed to save Kyle from his suffering. Instead, in his desperate advances, he had only inflicted more pain upon him, leaving himself feeling useless and incapable of providing the comfort they both so deeply craved.

 

With a heart heavy with desire, he struggled against the chains that bound him, frustration mounting as he realized that he could not compel his brother to break free from his own restraints.

 

"I will remain in another room until you are done," he declared, his resolve strengthening.

 

A gentle touch landed upon his shoulder as Crow continued to knit with fervor causing him to pause. When parting, Kyle typically bestowed soft kisses upon his forehead or cheek, yet now, there was naught but silence.

 

The thought that such tender touches might no longer be shared crushed Crow's spirit with a wave of regret for his foolish actions.

 

Was it possible that he had erred in judgment? He had intended to respect his brother's wishes, but his own desires had surged forth, insistent and unrelenting.

 

While the wish to lift the curse was sincere, a darker shadow whispered that a part of him had succumbed to his own wants.

 

Kyle was always wrestling with his own nature, disciplined and battling against the tides of desire, while Crow, under the guise of noble intent, had acted upon his impulses without restraint. The thought that he could lose the affection and tenderness Kyle had always shown him felt like a dagger to the heart, rendering him helpless and lost.

 

"Ah... what have I done?" he lamented silently.

 

His own misfortune weighed heavily upon him, yet he found himself pondering Kyle's feelings in this moment of turmoil.

 

As dawn broke after a night steeped in darkness, Kyle would gaze tenderly upon Crow's sleeping face, brushing against his cheek, bestowing gentle kisses, and holding him close—this had been the essence of simple joy. Yet now, in his self-centered folly, Crow had laid claim to something that should have been left untouched, shattering the sanctity of that cherished bond.

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