Dancing is not allowed on the grave

Lancelot licked his lips, leaned over to stick to the side of Searle's neck, and moved his big hands to his waist, moving down along the thin and smooth waistline.

Syl felt that he took a deep breath and exhaled a mouthful of extremely cold air.

The temperature dropped sharply behind him, as if he was in the cold winter. Only then did Searle realize that Mr. Butler just ate the dark fruit, and he probably used some magic to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

The cold lips first pressed against the side of his neck, making Syl tremble a little. He raised his face subconsciously and put his arms around Lancelot, trying to draw some warmth from him.

However, the man in front of him was cold all over, and took advantage of the danger to cover the protruding Adam's apple on his white neck, and sucked it gently.

"Hiss—" Searle gasped, and with his fingers, he pulled out a large wrinkle from the shirt behind Lancelot.

The hand on the waist was tightened, and the soft and cold lips moved up, nibbling lightly on the boy's chin, before biting the lower lip, and kissing it slowly.

Syl was so cold that he was about to lose consciousness, he only passively hugged Lancelot tightly, his eyelashes tremblingly sweeping across the man's face.

"Your Highness." Lancelot put his arms around Syl's waist, pinched his chin with one hand, and rubbed his thumb against his lips.

"Ok?"

"Very soft...like rose petals." A champagne-colored rose that is just about to bloom.

Realizing that Lancelot was evaluating his lips, Seale's mind went blank for a moment.

At this moment, the devil found an opportunity.With a slight force of his thumb, Lancelot parted Searle's lips.

The cold was so cold that Syl's senses were numb, and Lancelot seemed to know this too. The kiss was extremely rough, with an undisguised possessive desire to conquer the city.

Syl frowned uncomfortably, and felt that the hand around his waist picked him up and put it on the handrail of the stairs.

He hugged Lancelot tightly, ready to face the storm, but he did not expect the man in front of him to be gentle. He only gently supported his waist, and pecked his lips repeatedly. , Loving and patient.

This contrast made Searle, who had just been used to rough treatment, a little uncomfortable. He slowly opened his eyes, and saw the handsome and focused eyes close at hand.

So gentle that Syl wanted to sigh.

He closed his eyes again and licked Lancelot's lips lightly.

His Highness's proactive response made Lancelot stop immediately.

Syl blinked, and his voice was hoarse: "What's wrong?"

His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his eyes were also flushed, as if he had just cried.

This look of being bullied miserably fell in Lancelot's eyes, and the pitch black color was so dark that there was no bottom to it.

The man lowered his head and unbuttoned the boy's shirt one by one with his slender fingers.

When Melotti passed by, she saw this scene——

Sill, disheveled, was sitting on the banister of the stairs, with Lancelot stuck between his legs, kissing the boy's lean and beautiful collarbone.

"...Oh my God." Melotti raised her hand to cover her nose, "Is it just so exciting to come up?"

She pointed at Lancelot, her fingers trembling uncontrollably, "Searle, he, he, he is still a child!"

Hearing the sound, Lancelot raised his face, took Syl into his arms, and carried him upstairs, with his hands tightly covering the boy's collar, as if he didn't want others to see an inch of his Highness's skin.

Melotti: "???"

At this time, shouldn't you show the panic that the intimacy was broken?What do you mean by carrying people upstairs directly?Are you going to move on to another place?

"Lancelot, you beast! Put little Seale down for me—"

"Bang." The other party refused to respond and closed the door.

There are three rooms on the second floor of the red house. Lancelot carried Searle into the stairs and turned right to the first room.

The style of this room is exactly the same as that of the hall downstairs, with a white painted wooden door, walls painted in a beautiful red, and a red brick fireplace surrounded by black iron grilles in the corner of the room.

A wooden table was placed in front of the latticed window, and a black wardrobe was erected against the wall. The pendulum of the square wall clock on the wall swayed from side to side regularly, and the hour hand pointed to nine o'clock in the afternoon.

As soon as the door was closed, Lancelot carried Searle to the bed, took off his Martin boots and put them on the bed, got up and closed the brown curtains.

The room was dark, Syl was dangling her thin white legs, and she turned her head to watch Mr. Housekeeper go to the table and light the kerosene lamp. The warm yellow light did not illuminate much, and only reflected the small corner of the bed in an ambiguous tone. .

Lancelot opened the wooden door of the closet, and Searle saw that it was already full of clothes.

What's even more amazing is that Mr. Butler also dragged out a rectangular black wooden suitcase from under the bed.

He opened the box, took out a shirt from the closet, asked Searle's opinion, folded it neatly and stuffed it in.After picking out the clothes, they took out small items like bronze mirrors and brooches from the drawers in the room until they filled the entire suitcase—they were leaving for Nathaniel tomorrow morning.

Searle watched Lancelot pack his luggage with ease, and suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

It was as if he had lived in this room before, and watched Mr. Housekeeper pack his luggage for him and send him on a long journey under such a warm and dim light...

The halo gradually blurred, and everything in front of my eyes was covered with a layer of warm yellow tulle, darkening without warning.

"Your Highness...you must come back safely."

The familiar voice reappeared in the dream. In front of the magnificent palace, many pairs of eyes looked at him earnestly.

There are also... the pack of wolves on the distant mountains, the huge black shadow flying in the sky, and a small silver fox with blue eyes staring at him in the snow at the foot of the mountain.

Syl's back felt faintly hot, as if something was agitating, ready to come out.

His temples ached, everything fell into darkness, and the wind sounded in his ears. He seemed to be walking through the blue sky and clouds, and standing on the back of the dragon.

"Wow--" the dragon's wings swooped across the lake, causing splashes of water ten feet high.

He lowered his head and saw himself projected in the sky.

Glossy and soft curly hair, clean cheeks, radiant eyes, full of vitality like the rising sun.

At first glance, it looks like you have never experienced setbacks and failures.

However, the blood in the lake water gradually faded away, submerging that bright face, and there were scarlet ripples.

The blood color became more and more intense, condensing into a thick and dark black red, swallowing Searle's entire field of vision, as if he had fallen into an abyss, with a sense of weightlessness, endless darkness, and the sound of the wind falling rapidly.

"Your Highness." His forehead was covered with a cold hand, and Syl shuddered, waking up from the nightmare.

He opened his eyes and saw the faint light of the sky filtering through the brown curtains—it was already morning.

Searle grabbed the hand covering his forehead, put it on his cheek and rubbed it gently, and said softly, "Mr. Lancelot."

"Have a nightmare?"

Lancelot sat on the edge of the bed and tucked Searle up with the other hand.

"I've been dreaming for the past few days... dreaming of a magnificent palace, and many, many people who looked at me eagerly and said to me: 'Your Highness, you must come back safely.', and the giant dragon, I rode on the back of a giant dragon and crossed a icy lake. In the reflection in the lake, I was wearing a white dress—" Syl raised his hand on his shoulders and compared, "The one with shoulder pads is a very crisp style. There are also intricate medals and tassels on the chest."

It looked like the attire of some kind of court aristocrat, completely different from the heroic dreams he had had before.

"But soon...everything turned blood red, I seemed to have fallen from somewhere, and kept falling."

Lancelot's eyes flashed, "What happened next?"

"And then I woke up."

"Hello—" Hades's loud voice came from downstairs, "Are you all right?"

Seale and Lancelot looked at each other, but no one paid attention.

The sound of footsteps "dong dong dong" rushed up the stairs, and Hades pushed open the door with a "bang": "Those dead spirits outside are about to gnaw through the wall, you still haven't come out."

Searle was refreshed now, and regardless of the thin clothes she was still wearing, she got off the bed and stepped on her Martin boots, wanting to run outside, but Lancelot hugged her and pushed her back on the bed.

He went to the window and opened the curtain, and the bright morning light came in, and Syl saw the undead swarming outside the gate of the cemetery.

Lancelot's fingertips shimmered, and a dark blue hexagram array spread out under the feet of the undead. Dots of ice elements rose from the array and gathered into dark clouds in the sky.

The clouds were getting thicker and thicker, and a huge ice wheel expanded from it, spinning and falling down the snowstorm.

The ice and snow gradually covered the limbs and shoulders of the undead... Only one head was left outside, so as to prevent the death of those infected who had not yet died.

"Okay." Lancelot walked to the door and shut Hades out with a blank expression.

He took out a white dress from the closet and returned to the bed, squatting halfway in front of Searle.

Searle found that the suit looked suspiciously like the one he wore in his dream, except that there was no badge on the chest, but Lancelot's cold fingers had already touched it, making him shiver from the cold, and he subconsciously hid under the blanket.

The man leaned forward and leaned forward, his long legs half-bent against the edge of the bed, and the black and blue hair fell on Syl's forehead.

Searle opened his eyes and looked at him for two seconds, "Mr. Lancelot, we are no longer masters and servants."

"You don't have to help me get dressed."

Lancelot lowered himself a little more, his cold nose touched him, and the dark colors in his black pupils flowed, reflecting the lake of stars in Searle's eyes: "Then as a lover, there is nothing inappropriate for me to change your Highness's clothes."

The word "lover" twitched Searle's heartstrings, causing him to bend his eyes into beautiful crescent moons unconsciously.

Syl coughed softly, and frowned in distress: "The problem is, if you help me get dressed..."

He struggled for a while, and pressed the hand of someone who was slowly unbuttoning his clothes, "It seems that the time travels less and less?"

The face of Mr. Housekeeper who was questioned darkened, and his tone was a little disappointed, "Your Highness doesn't trust me."

"Huh? No." Syl couldn't stand Lancelot's resentful tone at all, and immediately reached out to hug him and kissed him. "I have 12 points of trust in Mr. Lancelot."

However, in the next second, Mr. Lancelot, who was endowed with 12 points of trust, pressed the boy under the quilt and kissed him deeply and long.

"I really can't be trusted." - Self-evaluation of an incompetent butler.