Quietly Hiding that I am a Man chapter 150- Fake Peace (Mature)

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What began as a teasing gesture toward Jeanne gradually stretched into something deeper, and Jerome found himself profoundly realizing what the emotion called love truly was.

His nanny had once said to him, “Young master, love is the feeling of cherishing and caring for someone. When you meet a girl you like one day, treat her kindly.”

At the time, Jerome had nodded with an innocent expression, hoping to gain her favor, but had smirked to himself as soon as her back was turned.

What nonsense.

Love is wanting to torment someone.

It had always been that way.

Jerome would deliberately put those who claimed to love him in distressing situations.

He would mock lovers who wept, claiming that if they truly loved him, they should even embrace such torment.

When they eventually left, unable to endure his cruelty, he felt a strange sense of relief.

The scornful gazes they cast at him as they left proved, in his mind, that he was not wrong.

“Fascinating, isn’t it? How some characteristics simply refuse to change—innate tendencies, they call it.”

Jerome chuckled bitterly as he watched Jeanne trembling in fear.

Pushing Jeanne to his limits on the bed was another part of this need for proof.

His mind was consumed with swirling thoughts.

‘You said you loved me, didn’t you? Then love even this base and vile part of me. Tell me you can’t live without me. Don’t reject me—accept everything. Because I can’t live without you, so you can’t live without me either. And if you betray me, I won’t forgive you. I’ll tear you apart alive.’

Jerome swallowed the words that had risen to his throat.

Even to himself, they sounded like the childish, twisted tantrum of a petulant child.

He knew deep down that no one would ever accept such murky, oppressive emotions.

Yet, “Maybe Jeanne, maybe he could even love me in moments like this,” he found himself hoping.

Jeanne’s face, swollen with tears after an hour of relentless torment, bore the evidence of his suffering.

“Well? Speak up, before we spend the entire day like this.”

If Jeanne refused to speak, Jerome was prepared to brainwash him into saying it, just as he had before.

He chose only the cruelest words, knowing Jeanne’s inexperience with intimacy.

He ruthlessly pressed into Jeanne, making him wet himself, without a shred of gentleness.

All of it was Jerome’s way of seeking reassurance, a perverse attempt to confirm Jeanne’s love.

At times, he wanted to keep Jeanne forever.

At others, he wished Jeanne would flee far away, somewhere he couldn’t see him.

Of course, if Jeanne ever ran, Jerome would release a hound in the middle of the capital to drag him back.

Jerome’s grip on Jeanne’s wrist tightened.

His thin, pale neck quivered as he swallowed nervously.

Tears streamed down Jeanne’s face as he finally lowered his gaze and whispered.

“I… I love you.”

Contrary to Jerome’s expectation of a curse, Jeanne once again spoke of love with gentleness.

He seemed unaware of the torment he was being put through.

The strength in Jerome’s hand, which had been clutching Jeanne’s wrist so tightly it turned white, began to loosen.

Jeanne’s next words made Jerome laugh in disbelief.

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry.”

Jerome raised an eyebrow.

It felt like a freshly born mutt wagging its drooping ears and rubbing its wet nose against his shin.

When he pushed it away with a foot, telling it to stay home, it would trot right back, yelping to protect him from the neighbor’s big dog during its walk.

“Unbelievable.”

Jerome swallowed the retort on the tip of his tongue: “Protect me? Take care of yourself first.”

He wanted to let loose and torment Jeanne, yet he couldn’t bring himself to say something so harsh.

He felt a mix of pity and frustration, leaving him overwhelmed with emotions he’d never experienced before.

Jeanne’s trembling belly pressed against Jerome’s, quaking with spasms.

Jerome smiled and whispered, “You sound like you’re asking me to make a baby with you.”

Sliding his arm beneath Jeanne’s back, Jerome pulled him into a tight embrace and buried his face in Jeanne’s nape.

Jeanne squirmed in pain as Jerome mercilessly pressed deeper into him.

“Ugh… Ah… Huh…”

Jeanne’s legs, splayed like a frog, had lost all strength.

His only option was to tremble intermittently, enduring Jerome’s penetration.

Jerome licked the trail of saliva that dripped down Jeanne’s chin.

Perhaps due to the fruit wine, even Jeanne’s saliva tasted sweet.

“This feels strange…” Jeanne murmured, tilting his head back, exhaling a shaky breath.

It was a stark contrast to his earlier struggles to escape.

Whether it was because of the time Jerome spent preparing him or because Jeanne had come to realize his love, Jerome couldn’t say.

But seeing Jeanne react this way filled Jerome with an almost painful arousal, his neck veins straining visibly.

“That’s not strange; that’s pleasure, my love.”

With a deep sigh, Jerome groped along the sheets until he found Jeanne’s ankle.

Like a child seeking comfort from a mother, he caressed Jeanne’s protruding anklebone.

Perhaps because Jeanne hadn’t fully grown, even his ankle felt small.

A pang of aching tenderness pierced Jerome’s chest.

“Jeanne, you’re small here too.”

Jerome muttered like a man possessed, gripping Jeanne’s ankle tightly.

He lifted it onto his shoulder and thrust deeper.

“Ah! No! Don’t do it like that!”

Jeanne’s cries echoed as Jerome’s relentless movements pounded into him, creating wet, slapping sounds as their sweat and fluids mixed.

The refined young master of the Ephelia family was gone, replaced by a lewd figure, his stomach bulging as though carrying eggs.

It was a grotesquely arousing sight.

“Jerome… this is weird… something weird’s coming…” Jeanne stammered, trembling as if struck by lightning.

His knees buckled as raw, primal sensations climbed his spine.

Jeanne shook violently before spilling himself.

As he lay collapsed, overwhelmed by the aftershocks of his release, Jerome casually wiped his face with the back of his hand and chuckled faintly.

“Imagine wetting your husband’s face like that.”

Jeanne, whose face was flushed all the way to his neck, buried his face into the pillow.

Unlike Jerome’s broad and sturdy chest, Jeanne’s narrow and shallow chest heaved rapidly.

Jerome felt an overwhelming urge to dissect this fragile body and lay out every component for examination.

He wanted to deconstruct everything that made up Jeanne and then put him back together again.

How did he breathe, walk, or blink so adorably?

Jerome wanted to trespass into the forbidden realms that only God should know.

And after uncovering those secrets, he’d make two or three more Jeannes.

One he’d brainwash to suck his cock, another to lick his ass, and the last one to watch it all with clear consciousness.

Just imagining it made him feel as satisfied as if he’d eaten a feast.

“Ugh, hic…”

Jerome snapped out of his daydream when Jeanne let out a sobbing sound.

Startled by the overwhelming sensations, Jeanne trembled with his face buried in the pillow.

Watching him quiver, Jerome gently rubbed Jeanne’s reddened earlobe and spoke in a soft voice.

“It’s tough, isn’t it? Making babies is no small task.”

Jeanne, having endured what was essentially an hour of torture disguised as foreplay, looked like he’d already reached his physical limits after climaxing.

While Jerome hadn’t finished yet and couldn’t deny feeling unsatisfied, he was willing to step back if Jeanne was truly distressed.

Because Jeanne loved him.

And as long as Jeanne loved him, there was no need to rush—Jeanne would spread his legs for him any time.

As long as Jeanne stayed by his side for life, Jerome could keep up the act of being a good husband for as long as necessary.

“Should we stop?”

At Jerome’s question, Jeanne wrapped his legs tightly around Jerome’s waist.

The action, as if begging him not to stop, made Jerome pause, a smile spreading across his face.

Even amidst his daze, Jeanne’s adorable behavior was astounding.

Pressing himself completely against Jeanne, Jerome plunged deeply once more.

“What? You want me to just keep ruining that baby-maker of yours?”

“Y-yeah…”

“You’re totally out of it. You don’t even have a baby-maker, do you?”

Jerome chuckled as he hugged Jeanne close.

Despite his teasing, Jeanne merely kept his eyes shut tightly as if dead to the world.

Finding this amusing, Jerome’s laughter suddenly faded, his expression turning cold.

He leaned down and pressed his ear to Jeanne’s chest.

Thump, thump…

Thankfully, his heart was still beating. Hearing the rapid rhythm, Jerome’s tense expression eased.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he murmured with hollow eyes.

“I almost turned into a psychopath again…”

He couldn’t imagine a life without Jeanne anymore.

If Jeanne were to die, Jerome would slaughter everyone in the empire and then take his own life.

After all, a world without Jeanne held no meaning.

Everyone returning to the dirt seemed like a natural and poetic conclusion.

Lifting his head from Jeanne’s chest, Jerome muttered to himself.

“I’m such a romantic, even I think so. If Chloe inherits my sensibility, she’ll definitely become a famous poet. No one will understand Chloe’s lyrical and unique world except for me.”

Satisfied with this thought, Jerome pulled Jeanne’s arm, capturing his half-open lips in a kiss, sucking gently on the tip of his small tongue.

The peculiar sensation of Jerome’s tongue grazing his palate made Jeanne open his eyes slowly.

Jerome, gazing at Jeanne with adoration, brushed back his sweat-soaked hair.

“Darling, I’ve been thinking—what if we make our daughter a poet?”

“I… I can’t… I really can’t do this anymore…”

“You don’t like the idea? Why? Is it because poets don’t make money? But… I think it’s best to let children do what they want. Of course, you’re in charge of their education, but just consider it.”

“I really can’t. Just… just kill me instead. Did you get an enlargement surgery, you bastard…”

The conversation made no sense as the utterly exhausted Jeanne blurted out whatever came to mind.

His lower half was so thoroughly filled that he couldn’t even think of moving.

Chuckling at Jeanne’s outburst, Jerome slid his arm under Jeanne’s knees, effortlessly lifting him.

The sudden weightlessness made Jeanne cling to Jerome’s neck in panic.

Jerome whispered in a sinister tone.

“Calling your loving husband a bastard… Looks like I need to fix that foul mouth of yours.”

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