The chill of the northern winds was a familiar caress against Felm's pale skin, a stark contrast to the simmering heat that had begun to bloom within him whenever Kuro Kishi was near. Felm, the gifted healer whose magic had once been his sole focus, found his concentration wavering, his thoughts drifting from intricate spellwork to the obsidian armor that encased the enigmatic knight. Kuro Kishi, the Black Knight, was a figure of legend, a guardian whose presence commanded respect and, in Felm’s case, a potent, bewildering attraction. Tonight, the fortress was quiet, the usual clang of steel and hurried commands replaced by the soft hoot of an owl and the rhythmic drip of melting ice from the parapets. Felm found himself alone in his chambers, the scent of medicinal herbs and worn parchment filling the air, but it was the phantom scent of ozone and tempered steel, the signature of Kuro Kishi, that truly captivated his senses.

He traced the intricate stitching on his healer's robes, his fingers trembling slightly. The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic, they had called his unique abilities, but lately, the magic that stirred within him felt far less about mending flesh and more about igniting a fire in his soul. And that fire, he knew with a certainty that both thrilled and terrified him, was ignited by Kuro Kishi. The Black Knight had saved him more times than Felm could count, not just from physical peril, but from the crushing weight of despair that had threatened to engulf him in his darker moments. Each time, Kuro Kishi’s silent, unwavering strength had been a beacon. And each time, Felm’s admiration had deepened, blooming into something far more intimate, something he dared not voice.

A soft, almost imperceptible rap echoed through the chambers. Felm’s heart leaped. He knew that sound, that deliberate, restrained knock. He rose, his movements fluid despite the nervous energy coursing through him, and moved towards the heavy wooden door. As he opened it, the sight of Kuro Kishi, bathed in the dim torchlight, stole his breath. The Black Knight was as imposing as ever, his obsidian armor gleaming, the stark contrast of his pale skin visible at the collar. But tonight, his usual stoic expression seemed softened, his dark eyes holding a depth of emotion that Felm had never witnessed before. The air between them crackled, thick with unspoken desires, a palpable tension that made Felm’s knees feel weak.

“Felm,” Kuro Kishi’s voice was a low rumble, like distant thunder, and it sent a shiver down Felm’s spine. It was a voice that promised strength, protection, and a ferocity that now, in this private moment, felt aimed entirely at him. “I… I needed to see you.”

Felm could only nod, his throat too tight to speak. He stepped back, offering Kuro Kishi entry into his sanctuary of healing and study. The Black Knight entered, his presence seeming to fill the entire room, the scent of his armor, a subtle mix of leather, metal, and something uniquely him, overwhelming Felm’s senses. Kuro Kishi’s gaze swept over Felm, lingering on the healer’s flushed cheeks and the almost desperate plea in his eyes. It was a look that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the magnetic pull that had been drawing them together, a dance of hesitant glances and lingering touches on the battlefield.

“I have been… troubled, Felm,” Kuro Kishi admitted, his voice even lower now, a confession whispered into the charged silence. “By thoughts that have no place in a knight’s mind. Thoughts of you.”

Felm’s heart hammered against his ribs. He had hoped, prayed even, for this moment, for Kuro Kishi to finally acknowledge the unspoken current that flowed between them. “Troubled, my lord?” Felm managed to ask, his voice barely a whisper, though he knew that "my lord" was a formality that was fast losing its meaning. The Black Knight was becoming so much more.

Kuro Kishi took a step closer, his hand, encased in its gauntlet, reaching out to gently cup Felm’s cheek. The cool metal against Felm's warm skin was a delightful paradox, mirroring the icy exterior and burning core of the man before him. “Not by your healing, Felm. Never by your healing. But by… the vulnerability I see in your eyes when you look at me. By the innocence you carry, so at odds with the harshness of this world. And by the way my own thoughts turn to you when the battles are over, when the armor is shed, even if only metaphorically.”

Felm leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief, ecstatic moment. He felt a profound sense of relief, of finally being seen. “I… I have thought of you too, Kuro Kishi,” Felm confessed, his own confession tumbling out, emboldened by the knight’s sincerity. “More than I should. More than is proper for a healer.” The words hung in the air, heavy with implication, and Felm braced himself, unsure of what the Black Knight’s reaction would be. He had already felt the sharp sting of judgment from others in The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic, but with Kuro Kishi, it was different. There was no judgment in those dark eyes, only a deepening intensity.

Kuro Kishi’s gauntlet slid from Felm’s cheek to trace the line of his jaw, his touch surprisingly gentle. “Proper is a cage, Felm. And tonight, I have no desire for cages. Only for truth. And the truth is,” Kuro Kishi’s voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, his gaze locking onto Felm’s, “I desire you, Felm. More than I have ever desired anything in my life.”

The admission sent a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure through Felm. He reached up, his bare hand meeting the cold steel of Kuro Kishi’s gauntlet, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the knight's body. “And I, you, Kuro Kishi,” Felm whispered back, his own desire finally finding voice. The Black Knight’s helmet was still on, a symbol of his stoic resolve, but Felm could feel the raw emotion emanating from him, a tempest held barely in check. He wanted to see the man beneath the armor, the man whose intensity now promised to consume him.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Kuro Kishi reached up and unfastened his helmet. As it was lifted away, revealing the stern lines of his face, the dark, tousled hair, and the captivating intensity of his eyes, Felm felt his breath catch. The sight was both familiar and utterly new, a revelation that sent his already racing heart into a frenzy. Kuro Kishi’s gaze was fixed on Felm, a primal hunger now undisguised. He leaned in, his movements unhurried, giving Felm ample time to pull away, but Felm did not. He couldn't. He wanted this more than he had ever wanted anything. And then, their lips met.

It was a kiss that spoke of restraint finally broken, of long-held desires unleashed. Kuro Kishi’s kiss was deep, passionate, and possessive. His arms, strong and powerful, wrapped around Felm, pulling him flush against the unyielding warmth of his body, the obsidian armor a strange, erotic barrier between them. Felm responded with an equal fervor, his hands finding their way to Kuro Kishi’s broad shoulders, pressing into the cool, smooth metal. He could feel the rumble of a groan deep in Kuro Kishi’s chest as their kiss deepened, tongues tangling in a frantic exploration that left Felm breathless and aching.

Kuro Kishi broke the kiss, his forehead resting against Felm’s, their breaths mingling in the confined space. “Felm,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I have dreamt of this.”

“And I of you,” Felm replied, his voice trembling. The romantic tension had reached its peak, and now, the explicit was about to unfold. Kuro Kishi’s hands began to move, his gauntlets clanking softly as he unbuckled them, then shed them, revealing hands that, while calloused from battle, moved with a surprising tenderness. He reached for Felm’s robes, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric, then slipping beneath it to caress the warmth of his skin. Felm shivered at the touch, a delicious wave of heat washing over him.

The Black Knight’s touch was both demanding and exquisite. He peeled Felm’s robes away with practiced ease, revealing his pale, slender body to the dim light. Kuro Kishi’s gaze roamed over Felm, a silent appreciation that made Felm’s cheeks burn with a mixture of shyness and pride. “You are beautiful, Felm,” Kuro Kishi stated, his voice a low vow. He then began to unfasten his own armor, piece by piece. The heavy plate gave way to supple leather and chainmail, each layer removed revealing more of the powerful, muscular physique beneath. Felm’s eyes traced the lines of Kuro Kishi’s body, the strong planes of his chest, the taut muscles of his abdomen, and a deep, primal yearning stirred within him. This was not just the famed Black Knight; this was a man, exposed and vulnerable, offering himself to Felm.

As the last vestiges of armor were shed, Kuro Kishi stood before Felm, a magnificent, bronze-skinned warrior. His body was a testament to strength and endurance, yet his eyes, when they met Felm’s, were filled with a raw, tender need. He reached out, his bare hands now a stark contrast to the cool metal of his armor, and cupped Felm’s face again, his thumbs stroking gently along his cheekbones. “I have waited for this,” Kuro Kishi confessed, his gaze intense. “Waited for you to see me, truly see me, beyond the legend of the Black Knight.”

Felm’s hands, emboldened by the intimacy, moved to Kuro Kishi’s chest, feeling the steady, powerful beat of his heart beneath his palm. He marveled at the contrast between the rough texture of Kuro Kishi’s skin and the soft sensitivity of his own. “I see you, Kuro Kishi,” Felm whispered, his voice husky with desire. “I see the man who has protected me, who has stirred something within me that no one else ever has.” He then looked down, his gaze lingering on the growing evidence of Kuro Kishi’s arousal, a mirrored response that mirrored his own burgeoning need.

Kuro Kishi responded by pulling Felm into his arms again, their naked bodies pressing together, the heat radiating between them an undeniable testament to their mutual desire. Felm reveled in the feeling of Kuro Kishi’s hard body against his own, the friction of skin against skin sending shivers of ecstasy through him. Kuro Kishi’s lips found Felm’s neck, trailing soft kisses along his sensitive skin, eliciting gasps of pleasure from the healer. His hands roamed Felm’s back, then moved lower, caressing his hips and thighs with a possessive tenderness that made Felm arch into his touch. He could feel the insistent throb of Kuro Kishi’s erection against his belly, a promise of the pleasure that was yet to come.

“Felm,” Kuro Kishi breathed against his skin, his voice laced with urgency, “I want to claim you. Completely.” His hands moved to Felm’s most sensitive regions, his touch both bold and worshipful. Felm whimpered at the exquisite sensations, his body responding instinctively, his own arousal reaching a fever pitch. He guided Kuro Kishi’s hands, his own desire a palpable force urging them forward. “Yes, Kuro Kishi,” Felm whispered, his voice barely audible, “Please.”

With a groan of pure, unadulterated need, Kuro Kishi lifted Felm into his arms, carrying him towards the large, comfortable bed that dominated the chamber. He laid Felm down gently, his dark eyes never leaving Felm’s face. The Black Knight’s passion was a force of nature, and Felm was its willing recipient. Kuro Kishi then lowered himself onto the bed, positioning himself between Felm’s spread legs. Felm could feel the heat emanating from Kuro Kishi’s erect penis, a promise of deep, fulfilling penetration. He reached out, his fingers trembling slightly, and stroked the firm flesh, marveling at its size and hardness.

“You are so soft, Felm,” Kuro Kishi murmured, his voice a low growl of desire. He then guided himself towards Felm, his movements slow and deliberate, allowing Felm to adjust. There was a moment of slight resistance, a stretching sensation that was intense but not painful, and then, with a deep thrust, Kuro Kishi entered Felm. Felm cried out, a mixture of pleasure and surprise, as the Black Knight filled him completely. Kuro Kishi paused, allowing Felm to acclimatize to the feeling, his gaze filled with concern and unwavering adoration. Felm met his gaze, his own eyes wide with a passion he had never known. He wrapped his legs around Kuro Kishi’s waist, pulling him closer.

“More,” Felm urged, his voice hoarse. “Please, Kuro Kishi.”

The Black Knight needed no further invitation. He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, filling Felm with each powerful surge. The rhythm they established was primal, ancient, a dance of two souls finally united in the most intimate way. Felm moaned, his body arching into Kuro Kishi’s, his hands clenching in the knight’s dark hair. He whispered Kuro Kishi’s name over and over, each utterance a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he was experiencing. The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic had never prepared him for this intensity, this profound connection that transcended physical desire.

Kuro Kishi’s lips found Felm’s again, his kisses growing more frantic, mirroring the increasing pace of their movements. He whispered words of adoration and possession against Felm’s skin, each word a burning ember igniting Felm’s soul. “Mine, Felm. You are mine.” Felm responded with his own whispered declarations, his body already on the precipice of an explosive release. The sensation of Kuro Kishi’s hard cock sliding in and out of him was intoxicating, a relentless wave of pleasure that threatened to shatter his senses. He could feel the muscles in his core clenching, a prelude to the inevitable climax. Kuro Kishi’s thrusts became more urgent, his groans of pleasure deeper, his movements more desperate. Felm felt the first tremors of his own orgasm, a tidal wave building within him. As Kuro Kishi’s climax neared, he thrust deeper, pushing Felm over the edge. Felm cried out, his body convulsing around Kuro Kishi as waves of ecstatic pleasure washed over him. Moments later, Kuro Kishi let out a guttural roar, his own release surging through Felm, a profound, life-affirming sensation. They collapsed against each other, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

In the aftermath, as the intensity slowly subsided, Kuro Kishi remained deep within Felm, their bodies still intertwined. He held Felm close, his lips pressing soft kisses to Felm’s forehead, his chest, his throat. Felm felt a profound sense of peace settle over him, a warmth that had nothing to do with the lingering heat of their passion and everything to do with the unconditional acceptance he felt from the Black Knight. Kuro Kishi, the formidable warrior, the legend, had laid bare his heart and his body, and Felm had reciprocated with his own nascent desires. The romantic buildup had culminated in an explicit encounter that had forged an unbreakable bond between them, a testament to the true meaning of devotion, far beyond the battlefield or the confines of the academy in The Wrong Way To Use Healing Magic.

“Felm,” Kuro Kishi whispered, his voice still raspy with emotion, his gaze soft as he looked down at the healer nestled in his arms. “I will protect you. Always.”

Felm looked up at him, his heart overflowing with love and a deep, abiding gratitude. He smiled, a soft, contented smile. “And I, you, Kuro Kishi,” he replied, his voice filled with a newfound strength. The Black Knight had claimed him, body and soul, and in that profound connection, Felm had found a healing more potent than any magic he possessed. He knew, with absolute certainty, that their story, the story of the Black Knight and his devoted healer, had just begun.