"Mmm... ah... this feeling..."
"...How could it be... this... comfortable..."
"...Mr. Sandor... mm... you can... use a little more force..."
"...There... yes... right there..."
"Oh..."
At that moment, Yrel's soft, sweet voice drifted through the dark, icy prison cell.
Yrel was lying on her back across Ye Ting's lap, enjoying his massage.
Golden Holy Light shimmered in Ye Ting's hands. This once incomparably sacred energy had now become a massage tool. The warm Holy Light nourished her body while his skilled hands worked over the Draenei's exhausted muscles, making Yrel cry out in comfort with every stroke.
Only after trying it himself did he realize that Draenei skin was much smoother than human skin, no less so than that of the High Elves—at least, in Ye Ting's opinion, it was smoother than Sylvanas and Alleria's.
Besides that, there was another thing Ye Ting appreciated about the Draenei: they had very little body hair. Other than their tails, hair, eyebrows, and similar places, the main areas of their bodies rarely bore any hair. Their skin was as smooth as silk, wonderful to touch, and highly sensitive—whenever Ye Ting's hand brushed across it, he could feel the uneasy tremors beneath it.
Sure enough, this little flirt was still a complete newbie.
However, as the massage continued, Yrel seemed to grow accustomed to Ye Ting's touch. Her entire body relaxed, going limp in his arms without moving, quietly enjoying this fleeting peace.
After quite some time, Ye Ting had finished the massage. The strain and soreness from battle had completely faded, yet the girl remained in the same position without moving.
Looking closer, he realized that Yrel had fallen asleep on his thigh during the massage. Only her tail twitched from time to time, as though she were dreaming about something.
Watching the