I previously posted an illustration of Victor training at a personal gym, but Tumblrâs automated system flagged it with an adult content label.
(I only noticed it yesterday ð€£ I honestly have no idea how long itâs been labeledâŠ)
I submitted a review request explaining that the illustration contains no sexual intent, but thereâs a chance the label wonât be removed. If it stays, Iâd appreciate it if you could simply ignore it.
To be honest, I have other artwork on different social media platforms that still carries sensitive labels due to similar misclassifications.
This isnât my first time dealing with this kind of issue, so my reaction is basically âAgain!?â before submitting another review.
However, if these misclassifications continue to pile up, thereâs a risk that my account could be suspended.
If this keeps happening, I may eventually have no choice but to delete the misclassified artwork. ð€ð
âŠAnd I really should check whatâs in my archive every once in a while⊠lol
â ïž This post includes explicit sexual content (NSFW). Please be mindful before viewing. ðŠ
Oral and licking scenes by the TOP (Victor)
No penetration; foreplay only
[âDominion of the Lips]
âA melting gasp dissolved in the depths of his throat.
As it momentarily shivered the air, Claudioâs porcelain skin twitched faintly.
â"Ah⊠ah⊠n⊠VictorâŠ"
âIn that voice, wet only with his own throatâs moisture, there was not a fragment of refusal.
There was only bewilderment, and the sweetness of a pleasure to which he was succumbing.
âVictor scooped up his legs from beneath the knees.
Tracing the soft curve of the ankle with his lips, he slowly let his tongue crawl upâover the knee, the thigh, and toward the hips.
â"âŠHh, th-there isâŠ!"
âVictor already knew every sensitive point that reacted to fingers or tongue.
But above all, he knew the places that could be dominated only by lips. With exquisite, calculated force, he sucked at the tender skin of the inner thigh.
â"Aah, ahâŠ!"
âHis body trembling, Claudio unconsciously gripped the fabric of his robes.
Everything he had suppressed with reason was being dismantled by Victorâs lips alone.
â"You are⊠truly honest here, aren't you?"
âWhispering with a voice laced with breath, Victor began to savor that heat with his tongue, as if it were something precious.
The tip, the underside.
Every time a wet, slick sound resonated, Claudioâs legs spasmed faintly.
â"Ah⊠no, aaah⊠Victor⊠th-that isâŠ"
â"Put it into words. Tell me where and how it feels good."
âIt was not a command.
Yet, the low timbre of his voice undeniably seared Claudioâs brain.
Amidst the intersection of shame and lust, his voice leaked out, trembling.
â"It⊠feels⊠g-good⊠There, hh⊠don't lick⊠so much⊠ahâŠ"
â"But you like it, don't you?"
âSliding his tongue as if crawling down a throat, Victor slowly slipped into the "depths."
Tracing the shape with his lips, caressing it again and again, he took Claudioâs "core" into his mouth as if performing a sacred service.
â"Vic⊠hh⊠ah⊠aah, no, any more isâŠ!"
âJust as Claudio was about to break, Victor held him back, refusing to grant him release yet.
With that "heat" still held within his mouth, he looked up at him with his eyes alone.
âAs if to burn the image into him.
As if to tell him exactly how his lips were breaking him, how they were pleasuring him.
â"âŠâŠHh, h⊠Vic, tor⊠ah⊠no, please⊠n, n⊠aaahâŠ!"
âReason severed.
Voice collapsing.
Claudio was swallowed by a wave he could not stop, and eventually, he spilled everything out, as if purging his very soul.
âVictor accepted all of his "heat" and pleasure with his lips.
Neither wiping it away nor fleeing from it; he simply, quietly accepted it.
âBy the time he parted his lips, Claudioâs chest was heaving, and not even strength remained in his fingertips.
â"You were beautiful."
âAt that whisper, Claudio tried to say something, but fell silent.
Yet, his flushed cheeks and the moisture brimming at the corners of his eyes were more eloquent than any words.
âCould one truly crumble this much?
âThe moment his legs were spread and breath was blown onto the source of his heat.
What leaked from the back of his throat was a voice that belonged to no one.
â"âŠNn⊠hh, Vic⊠tor⊠hhâŠ"
âLooking down, he saw that quiet, impeccable man letting his lips crawl over that place, as if holding his breath.
âAs if praying.
But that tongue was too skillful; it seemed to know exactly where and how to love him.
â(Why⊠in such a placeâŠ)
âShame scorched his chest.
No, it was beyond mere shame.
The fact that this man was seeing him in such a state turned into a sticky, burning ache in the depths of his heart.
â"âŠNo, h⊠if you trace there⊠hhâŠ"
âThough his throat trembled, his hips would not obey; they swayed faintly, selfishly, in time with the pleasure being given.
â"Hh, no⊠don't use your tongue⊠don't traceâŠ"
âHe knew that saying such things would only make Victor more persistent.
Yet, voicing it was the final resistance of his reason.
âAnd yetâ
â"Hh, ha⊠ah, a⊠aaahâŠ"
âVictorâs tongue meticulously tasted the tip, crawling along the underside, and the back of Claudio's mind went blank.
â(Aaah⊠why⊠is it soâŠ)
âHe couldn't stay calm as he usually did.
No matter how much he clamped his mouth shut, his throat spilled voice of its own accord.
âPleasure had taken shape.
Every place loved by those lips and tongue throbbed, pregnant with heat and moisture.
He was being loved accurately, as if his mind were being read.
â(No⊠this⊠I can't, hold onâŠ)
âThe limit approached.
His body shook, his vision blurred, his hands grasped the sheets.
The moment he was about to scream somethingâ
âAmidst the pulsing of his whole body and his ragged breathing, he could feel Victorâs lips still tracing the remnants of the act.
â"âŠWhy⊠are you so, gentle⊠hhâŠ"
âHe shouldn't have had the composure to ask, but the words slipped out before he knew it.
âNo answer came.
But the heat of the lips touching him was the greatest answer of all.
â(This man⊠loves me.)
âThe moment he thought that, the mask of reason crumbled.
Being held by this one man, melting awayâ
Claudio had already accepted it.
âLetting Claudioâs legs open gently, Victor embraced him from behind, pulling his hips close.
Deliberately keeping his own heat from touching, he slipped only his lips in instead.
â"Youâre coming again, aren't you?"
âHe touched the sensitive "depths" with the tip of his tongue, making a muffled sound.
The lukewarm, melted nectar pushed back against his tongue, proving it had pooled deep inside.
â"F⊠nn, f⊠hh, no⊠Vi, ctorâŠ"
âClaudioâs fingertips gripped the sheets.
As if seeking salvation, yet with not a speck of will to escape.
â"Don't beg. Youâre the one who yearned for this, aren't you?"
âThe tips of his beard, along with the dripping nectar, traced the deepest "walls."
Claudioâs hips jumped, and a suppressed voice spilled out.
â"Ah, no, ah⊠not like that⊠again⊠hhâŠ!"
âAt that voice, a muffled laugh spilled from Victor's throat.
With just a kiss, with just tongue and beard, he could make him break as many times as he wished.
That fact filled his dominance as a man, and his delight, to the brim.
â"It seems⊠it's not enough yet. Come, answer me with this."
âOpening him gently with fingertips, Victor pressed his lips deep once more.
The nectar entangled with a sound, sucking up his tongue as if devouring it.
â"âŠYour 'depths' cannot lie. They want it this much."
â"Hh⊠such, a thing⊠hh, nnhâŠ!"
âEvery time the lips touched, melted honey overflowed from his deepest parts.
It was like the price of his consciousness melting, unable to resist the pleasure.
â(I will not give him my heat yetâ)
âVictor suppressed his own arousal.
An impulse that threatened to swallow him whole if he made one mistake.
But the peak of intoxication that could only be obtained by enduring it was certainly there.
â"Claudio, you are alreadyâŠ"
â(Already prepared to accept my 'heat'.)
â(But even so. I will still make you yearn for itâ)
âBeyond this lay the moment reason collapses.
He wanted to taste that more than anything.
The moment when Claudioâs beautiful reason dissolves into love, into lust, into the existence that is Victor.
âClaudioâs breathing was hot, shallow, and yet⊠somewhere, frightened.
No, that wasn't it.
â(Is he frightened of his own fallen self?)
âSipping the nectar with his lips, Victorâs gaze was fixed solely on Claudioâs nape.
Porcelain-delicate skin, faintly beaded with sweat.
He was floating in fever, so intense that a bite would surely leave a mark instantly.
â"The 'answer' is still lacking."
âShowing no sign of offering his own heat, he pressed his beard against the walls of the "depths," licking them up. Softly, carefully.
And yet, with malicious intent, he stretched his tongue deep, stirring the innermost parts.
â"âŠHha⊠ah, ku⊠ahâŠ! Vic⊠torâŠ"
âA sweetly raspy voice tickled his earlobes.
Just that voice made him feel his own desire ache. But he had no intention of giving it.
â"What is it? Come, if you feel it⊠cry out from inside."
âTrue to his words, he pinned Claudioâs thighs with his fingertips, sealing off any escape.
The tip of his tongue reached the deepest point, rubbing teasingly against the sensitive wall there.
â"Ah, nn, ahâŠ! Aah⊠no, more⊠hh!"
âArching his neck back, he broke.
Nectar spilled, running down the tongue, leaving a sweet taste in the back of the throat.
Finding even that taste beloved was perhaps proof that Victor himself could no longer remain calm.
â(But not yet.)
â"Claudio⊠once more."
âLayering his lips over the trembling body, he posed the question not with words.
â(Just one more pushâŠ)
âOnce Claudioâs reason collapsed, there was no bottom to it.
Knowing this, he teased him.
âA joy mixed of affection and sadism slowly filled his heart.
So that he could drown only within Victor, he slowly, slowly broke him.
âEven after offering this body, it remains "unfilled."
Victor, more than anyone, knew what a harsh trial this was for Claudio.
â"Enough, pleaseâŠ"
âIn the depths of his ragged breath, a plea faintly bled through.
But Victor dared not answer.
âThe porcelain skin was dyed a pale crimson, sweat dripping from his temples.
Victor kissed that forehead softly.
â"âŠAh, what an honest body."
âVictorâs lips and beard sank between the legs again, accompanied by a muffled voice.
He had not yet poured his own "heat" into there.
And yetâor perhaps because of itâClaudioâs body ached with unbearable sensitivity.
â"âŠHh, ah⊠no, ah⊠hhâŠ"
âThe hidden vessel of nectar, pregnant with a torrent of pleasure every time it welcomed the tip of the tongue, trembled its soft walls, tangling in Victor's beard.
Wherever was licked, wherever was sucked, a gasp spilled out, unable to be suppressed.
â"Is it not enough yet⊠or are you at your limit?"
âA whisper tickled his ear, and at the same time, a middle finger moved toward thereâ
No, it stopped just before touching.
â"HhâŠ!"
â"If you want it inside, put it into words."
âAt those words, Claudioâs eyes wavered.
Amidst the clash of shame and pleasure, one piece of his reason crumbled away.
â"Victor⊠please⊠hhâŠ"
âThat voice, resembling a sob, had turned into a demand.
He was no longer satisfied with the "joy of being loved."
He was falling into the "joy of being denied."
â"I see⊠You have not yet had enough of the unfilled pleasure."
âMockingly, yet gently.
Victor let his tongue crawl again.
A muffled wet sound echoed in the deepest parts, and Claudio broke once more.
âRemained unfilled,
Again, and again.
â"âŠHow was it?"
âVictor asked maliciously to Claudio, who was silent, his shoulders trembling.
But the answer was told by everything: his eyelashes trembling as if broken, and the lingering sigh spilling from his slightly parted lips.
âIt was the quiet, certain fall of one who had awakened to the "pleasure of the withheld."
****
âWrapped in Victor's palm, Claudio continued to wait for the "core" that had not yet been given, even though he had reached the heights several times.
The "depths," heated enough to scorch his body, overflowed with nectar every time the entrance was rubbed, bred to be sensitive enough to cry out at the slightest stimulation.
â"âŠDo you still want it?"
âIn the voice whispered at his ear, infinite kindness and a bottomless ferocity that sent shivers down his spine coexisted.
âClaudio could not answer.
Just breathing was hot.
To put it into words was too⊠too shameful, and an irresistible joy oppressed his chest.
â"Put it into words. âŠOr will you let your body speak that it wants the 'core'?"
âSaying so, Victor slowly caressed the rim of the slick entrance with his lips.
Every time the tip of his tongue scooped and slipped into the slightly opened walls, Claudioâs legs trembled, and a voiceless gasp spilled out.
â"Nn⊠hh, ah⊠aah, no, st⊠Vi, c⊠âŠthere isâŠ!"
âHe didn't want him to stop.
He wanted it.
He himself knew it best.
âBut Victor did not try to give the "core" there.
âUsing only his lips, tongue, and beard with utter skill, scooping up the dripping nectar and the tremors of joy again and again,
He slowly drove Claudio into the deepest part, into a hell of pleasure.
â"âŠYou are cute."
âA low whisper tickled his earlobe.
â"You must be realizing by now how suited you are to the 'pleasure of being teased'."
âThat figure, panting in disorder unable to resist the pleasure, was too beautiful, obscene, and beloved.
âVictor had decided to make Claudio break many times tonight without pouring his "heat" into him.
That was his own "shape of love," and the deep pleasure he wanted Claudio to learn.
âTeased, denied, yet the fact that he was loved remained unshakable.
âIn the sweet, cold hell of Victor's "teasing," Claudio finally accepted the "self that cannot resist pleasure"â
âRobbed of joy again and again, heat oozed from the core of his melted body every time he broke.
The pleasure of being denied, of being teased.
It was a hell, and yet, it was heaven.
âVictor's tongue, lips, and beard caressed the depths again.
Though no "core" was inside, there was a sound.
Nectar overflowed, and a muffled, lewd wet sound reached his ears.
â"âŠHey, Claudio. Where do you want it so much? Where do you feel it so much?"
âA low voice shook the bottom of his belly.
When he tried to close his legs, Victor's arm would not allow it.
From between the legs kept spread, dripping nectar made a stain on the sheets.
â"âŠStop⊠it is shamefulâŠ"
â"Then stop it with words. If you can."
âSquelch, the sound echoed again.
Victor's lips traced the walls that had become completely sensitized.
The tongue scooped, sucked lightly.
The beard touching the inner thigh was ticklish, and hot.
Claudioâs back arched.
â"âŠAah⊠hh, Victor, there, again⊠ahâŠ!"
âA voiceless gasp leaked from the back of his throat, and his fingertips gripped the sheets tight.
No matter how many times he finished, he wanted it again immediately.
It was the defeat of reason.
â"Do you still⊠want it?"
âLips whispered at his ear.
If he said "I want it," there would be no turning back.
But Claudioâs body was honest.
His hips unconsciously chased after Victor.
The depths trembled sweetly, squirming as if to invite the nectar.
â"âŠDo you want me that much?"
âTears blurred Claudioâs eyes.
The last fragment of reason crumbled into a sob.
â"âŠVictor⊠pleaseâŠ"
âReflected in those feverish eyes was only one person.
Only Victor.
âIt was a joy deeper and heavier than being given the "core."
Victor decided to melt his last reason completely, slowly, pecking at the depths with only his lips, still without giving the core.
âTonight, it is still too early to fall completely.
But certainly, at the end of this nightâ
âThere will be a "Victorâs Claudio, completely melted in pleasure."
âThat premonition made Claudio break once moreâ
****
ââWhen that sweet, cruel night dawned,
Claudio was simply, quietly catching his breath.
âHis body still remembered.
Being made to break again and again, without being filled.
Disordered by pleasure, leaking his voice, and even begging.
â(âŠWhat a state I have shown.)
âShame scorched his heart slowly.
Yet, no feeling of rejection welled up.
It was just terribly sweet, and bitter.
âVictor's body warmth remaining on the pillow.
All of it was beloved.
âBecause what he gave was neither domination nor sadism.
It was an extension of the "joy of being loved,"
And Claudio himself understood that his body had learned a new pleasure.
â(âŠThat man does not break me.
No, he makes me fall without breaking me.
Because he knows meâŠ)
âA night where he exposed his heart, naked, without room to wear a mask.
There was not only pleasure there.
â(I⊠desired it.)
âHimself, drowned in joy.
Even if not givenâprecisely because it was not givenâthat yearning pleasure heightened.
âHe had tasted all of it within his palm.
â(âŠI think it is foolish.
And yet, I am convinced that I was loved.)
âThe moment he thought so from the bottom of his heart,
Claudio shed yet another layer of his "shell of reason."
âThe lounge of the Cathedral.
The evening light filtered through the stained glass, casting pale red shadows across the old wooden desk.
While Claudio arranged the chess set he had brought, Victor ran his fingertip along the rim of his wine glass, making it hum.
The sound vibrated faintly in the silence.
â"Youâre being quite cautious."
â"Even arranging the pieces requires order."
â"Order, is itâŠ?"
âA faint smile played on Victorâs lips as he picked up a white pawn.
â
"âBut remember, it is within order that the first seeds of chaos often lie."
âThe first move.
Sitting across from him in the black camp, Claudio stared intently at the board.
His movements were, as always, precise and without waste.
Victor watched him, as if savoring that very accuracy.
â"Your hands are far too dutiful."
â"âŠIs that a criticism?"
â"It's a compliment. The kind that tempts an opponentâs greed."
âEvery time a piece moved, their gazes met.
Claudioâs eyes sought to read the play; Victorâs sought to test the player.
â"Is reading that 'greed' your method, then?"
â"No. I read your 'hesitation.'"
âIn the next instant, the white knight leaped through the black defense.
Claudioâs brow twitched ever so slightly.
The tremor in his heart dissolved into the air as a subtle disruption in his breathing.
â"âŠWasn't that a mistake?"
â"No, it was a temptation."
âVictorâs voice was low, carrying a certain suggestive warmth.
â"If you take that piece, my 'intentions' will be laid bare. âIf you don't, I shall be the one unsettled."
â"Heh⊠A trap either way, I see."
â"Such is life, wouldn't you agree?"
âSilence.
The light from the stained glass swayed, casting shadows across Claudioâs lashes.
Victor didn't miss that moment and made another move.
While vying for dominance over the board, they peered into each otherâs hearts.
â"âŠCheck."
â"That was fast."
âClaudio stopped his hand.
The tension in his fingertips sent a quiet shiver through the room.
In that brief intervalâ
Victor took his glass and had a sip of the amber liquid.
â"See? You've even moved your body."
â"âŠDealing with your schemes is exhausting."
â"For someone who says that, you seem to be enjoying yourself."
â"âWe'll see about that once the match is decided."
âVictor narrowed his eyes at the response.
With his fingertips, he scooped up a piece from beneath Claudioâs hand.
The gesture was just like that time he had stroked his cheekâintentional, provocative.
â"Then let us continue.
Until the 'Mate'⊠shall we?"
âClaudio allowed a tiny smile to surface and returned his fingers to the board.
It was a smile not of 'surrender,' but of 'engagement.'
âThe psychological warfare continued until the stained-glass light finally faded into dusk.
âClaudioâs hand did not stop.
The outcome was already decided.
The position on the board clearly favored Victorâ
He must have realized it himself.
âStill, he moved.
Moving the black pieces as if he were still trying to grasp something.
â"âŠYou won't admit defeat?"
âVictorâs voice was quiet, sounding like both a provocation and a consolation.
â"I admit it. Howeverâ"
âClaudio looked up.
A strange heat dwelled in his eyes.
â"I simply want to confirm why I lost."
âAt those words, Victor let out a short laugh.
The Claudio of the past might have let his pride get the better of him, perhaps even overturning the board in a fit of righteous anger.
But he was different now.
He was calm, analytical, staring his own weaknesses in the face.
â
"âŠYou've changed, Claudio."
â"What?"
â"The old you would have tried to shroud the board in your own sense of justice.
But nowâyou see it. You see 'beyond the pieces.'"
âClaudio lost his words and simply cast his gaze down.
In the silence, Victor advanced his white queen and made the final move.
â"Checkmate."
âSmall, but certain.
The sound signaled the end of the battle on the board.
âVictor drained the rest of his glass in one gulp and rose gracefully.
Walking toward the window, he spoke in a low voice over his shoulder.
â"Your 'struggle' wasn't bad."
âClaudio blinked.
The voice was detached, yet it carried an undeniable warmth.
â
"Confidence isn't something you should allow yourself to lose.
It simply needs to be refinedâdon't you think?"
âVictor turned back slowly, his gaze shimmering with a hint of nostalgia and pride.
â"âŠYes.
I will carve those words into my heart."
â"Hmph⊠Quite honest of you. Rare."
âClaudio smiled faintly.
"I believe it is the correct attitude for a disciple seeking guidance from his master."
â"Then, I must provide a worthy response."
âWith that, Victor placed his hand lightly on Claudioâs head.
After a momentâs hesitation, he didn't stroke it; he simply let his palm rest there.
ââBeneath that palm was the heat of a young conviction.
And the fingertips touching that heat ignited a quiet flame deep within Victorâs own chest.
â(Indeed. To teach is not to dominate, but to lead.
Until this man understands that meaning, I too shall remain upon the board.)
â"Nowâhow will you play the next match?"
â"âŠI shall challenge you again with everything I have."
â"Excellent.
Then I, too, shall 'guide' you with everything I have."
âThe silence of the chessboard filled the space between them once more.
Outside, the cathedral bells began to toll.
Late at night, in Claudioâs private chambers tucked away in one corner of the cathedral.
As if to cool the lingering heat of what they had just shared, Claudio finished straightening himself first and turned toward the closet, intending to prepare a fresh change of clothes for Victor.
âVictor, there is a spare gown prepared for visiting guests. If you wouldââ
He stopped mid-sentence, the words falling away.
Victor, having turned around, had already found something to wear on his own.
It was a perfectly ordinary communal gown, made of thick cotton. The sort used interchangeably by members of the order in shared bathhouses and dormitories.
A modest embroidery of the orderâs crest adorned the back.
What was meant to be casually thrown over the shoulders of young monks, Victor wore with unshakable confidence, cinching the sash tight at his waist as though it were a bespoke robe from a high-end maison.
ââŠVictor. Where did you even find that?â
Claudio asked, half exasperated, still holding the fine silk gown he had prepared.
âHm? It was set aside near the baths. The length isnât bad.â
Unbothered by Claudioâs bewilderment, Victor poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table and took a slow drink.
Every movement fit the room far too naturally.
âIf you had said something, I would have prepared something more appropriate. That is⊠merely a shared, utilitarian item.â
âI am no âguest.â This is sufficient.â
ââŠ.â
Claudio immediately caught the insolent implication beneath the words.
That Victor did not see this place as a guest room, but as somewhere he belonged.
With a single remark, the cathedral, once Claudioâs own territory, was quietly rewritten into Victorâs personal retreat.
âHaa⊠(At this point, it might be simpler if you just settled in and called it homeâŠ)â
âDid you say something?â
Victor asked lowly as he set the glass down. That sharp gaze missed nothing, not even a muttered aside.
âNo. I was merely thinking that the fabric might be a little too rough against your skin.â
âThis is the one I want.â
âYou sound like a childâŠâ
âDo I? âŠVery well. Then have one tailored âjust for meâ by the next time I visit.â
With that, Victor gave a daring smile and sank deep into the sofa, as if the next visit were already a foregone conclusion.
Claudio lowered himself into a nearby chair and stared at the orderâs crest embroidered on Victorâs chest.
Their sacred symbol, resting against this manâs body.
The sight was irreverent, and yet inexplicably reassuring. A gentle heat bloomed deep in Claudioâs chest.
(Selfish manâŠ)
By tomorrow, Victor would don his attire meant for battle once more, discard this gown, and fly off again.
Claudio could neither follow that broad back nor stop him.
At the very least, until the scent he left behind fades from this shared garmentâ
even the purifying herbs gathered for rites would fail to restore Claudioâs peace.
Letting out a quiet sigh, Claudio surrendered himself once more, resignation in tow, to the continuation of that night Victor had opened.
