* * *
Before he could even sink into the haze of exhaustion, a wave of heat surged through him, making his head tilt back involuntarily.
Tears trickled down his temples, his body feeling as though all its moisture had been replaced by sweat, saliva, and something more.
Killian’s movements consumed every ounce of his senses.
Gripping Nael’s legs, which hung limply, he hoisted them over his shoulders and continued relentlessly.
“Master! Ahng… Ah… Hngh!”
Having taken every part of Nael for himself, Killian was satisfied.
Those red-rimmed eyes sought only him, willingly embracing the relentless rhythm.
Even shame seemed forgotten, and in fleeting moments, Nael even smiled—something delicate and almost beautiful.
With each wave of release, the flush on Nael’s sensitive skin deepened, his lower lip trembling as he cast a downward glance at himself, looking close to tears.
It was unbearably endearing.
Even his fragile hesitance, the way he worried that he might break at any moment, only made Killian crave him more.
The more delicate something was, the more one longed to possess it completely.
With a short, ragged breath, Killian gave in to his instincts, losing himself entirely as he poured everything into Nael.
Nael’s body looked more debauched than a brothel’s plaything, smeared with thick layers of semen and glistening fluids.
From his twitching hole, milky-white seed leaked out in slow, unrelenting streams.
His disheveled body trembled, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
Killian gathered Nael’s limp body in his arms and stepped into the bathtub.
Immersing them both in comfortably warm water, he carefully cleaned out the remnants of his release from Nael’s insides.
Nael leaned back against Killian’s broad chest, letting him do as he pleased.
He lacked even the strength to lift a finger, much less the will to wash himself.
He was too exhausted, too drained to manage it alone.
Though he said nothing, he was quietly grateful that Killian tended to him without being asked.
The steady rise and fall of Killian’s chest against his back felt soothing.
He let himself relax into it.
“You could just keep it inside,” Killian murmured.
“I’d like to plug it up and keep it there.”
“M-Master! Th-That’s… That’s not possible,” Nael stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You release too much… way too much.”
Killian chuckled. “I suppose so.”
“My stomach might burst…”
Killian pressed a kiss to Nael’s pale shoulder, then trailed his lips down to his nape, his chin, and finally his lips, leaving gentle, lingering kisses.
“Do you find my body that special?” Nael suddenly asked.
His eyes, shining with curiosity, flickered as he looked up at Killian.
Killian poured warm water over Nael’s shoulder before taking a soft, soapy brush and thoroughly scrubbing his body, wiping away the evidence of their night together.
“It seems so,” Killian mused.
“This is the first time I’ve taken a one-night partner to the North.”
Nael often forgot that Killian was a Grand Duke.
When he remembered that Killian was a man who could take anyone he pleased, a hollow chill passed through his chest.
He told himself not to expect anything, but the way Killian indulged him made it easy to forget.
It was foolish—pathetic, even.
Killian said he had no wife, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have lovers in the North.
He could have countless bed partners there.
He should have been relieved to know he wasn’t the only one, but instead, an inexplicable sadness crept in.
Once they arrived in the North, John and Edward would return to the South.
That meant the only person he could rely on would be Killian.
No matter how well Ren treated him, he was still just one of the Duke’s retainers.
Would things change in the North?
Would their relentless affairs come to an end?
Or would Killian simply stop seeking him out?
Neither option was appealing.
Killian had to keep wanting him—had to keep him close—so he wouldn’t be abandoned.
If Killian ever stopped seeking him out, one morning, Nael might wake up to find Killian had gone to war, leaving him behind.
The thought alone was terrifying.
He clenched his fists, imagining himself trapped in a cold, desolate castle with nothing but ice surrounding him.
He wanted to hold onto the warmth of this bath for as long as possible.
“Is the winter in the North harsh?” Nael asked.
“It’s brutal,” Killian replied.
“But if you stay inside the manor, you’ll be warm. I’ve given orders to prepare your chambers with special care.”
“My… chambers?”
Nael turned to look at him.
Giving him a separate room likely meant no more being taken to bed at any time, no more nights spent tangled together.
It was an unexpected blessing.
His pale face flushed with sudden warmth at the thought.
“What color do you like? I’ll have it decorated however you wish.”
“I… I’ve never decorated a room before.”
“Aiden.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Nael sucked in a breath.
The knight standing at the open door would hear everything.
He would remember everything.
The embarrassment was Nael’s alone to bear.
As someone born into privilege, Killian naturally commanded those beneath him with effortless arrogance.
“Prepare my chambers for Nael,” Killian ordered.
“He wants to learn how to read, so ensure everything he needs is in place.”
“…Your Grace.”
Nael blinked.
Aiden, who always responded with an immediate “Yes, Your Grace,” hesitated.
Sharing Killian’s chambers…
That was far too extravagant for someone like him.
“Master, please just give me a servant’s room. I only need a place to rest. If there are no rooms available, the attic will do.”
Killian let out a quiet, amused huff.
He reached out and pinched Nael’s flushed cheek, careful not to hurt him.
But with his large hands and firm grip, a faint mark appeared before quickly fading.
There was no shortage of rooms in Killian’s estate.
If he could take a peek inside Nael’s mind, he wondered what he would find.
Sometimes, the things Nael said were so absurd, it felt like dealing with a naive child.
“Nael,” Killian said, his voice both indulgent and firm, “I don’t treat my precious possessions carelessly. I need you close—where I can always find you.”
“…Ah.”
Precious possession.
That was what Nael was to him.
A reminder of his position.
A thing that had been purchased with a mountain of gold.
Even though he already knew, the words still left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Nael lowered his head slightly. “Yes, Master.”
“Understood, Your Grace. I will make the necessary arrangements,” Aiden responded.
Nael wrapped Killian’s arms around himself, burying his face in the warmth of his chest.
Against his shoulder, he felt Killian’s low chuckle and the soft brush of his breath.
Closing his eyes, Nael hid the turmoil behind his eyelids, his heartbeat lost in the steady rhythm of Killian’s embrace.
* * *
