* * *
Nael shifted slightly, trying to re-center himself around the tight pressure of the chastity device under his trousers.
Winter hadn’t completely left yet; the wind was still cold. His exposed earlobes had turned pink like flower petals.
Afraid they’d think he was acting spoiled, he quickly added:
He only wanted to get into the carriage early so the knights wouldn’t have to suffer the cold—but being denied so flatly was a bit embarrassing.
“It’s just that… I thought the knights might be having a hard time because of me. I’m fine, really.”
The knight’s dark brown eyes scanned him as if trying to peel back his layers.
Nael bit down hard on his lower lip.
“We’re fine, truly. By order of His Grace, we must ask for your patience just a while lon—”
“Nael.”
“Master.”
The call sliced cleanly through the knight’s explanation.
Nael pushed past him and ran to Killian.
“You were standing out here in the cold.”
“I wasn’t cold.”
He’d woken from sleep to find the space beside him empty.
Though Philip had promised Killian would come if he waited, he’d ended up whining like a lost pup and coming outside.
Today was the day they would go south.
He knew Killian would never leave without him, yet excitement and nerves had kept him awake all night until he finally dozed off.
“Shall we board?”
Unlike the enclosed carriage they used when first arriving in the north, this one was much larger and more ornate.
And this time, Killian got in with him.
“Yes, Master.”
Nael took his hand and climbed inside.
“Philip.”
Noticing the butler running from a distance, Nael leaned halfway out the carriage.
Philip’s eyes were red as he met Nael’s gaze.
No one had treated him with the respectful care Philip had.
Like a true adult, he offered advice, noticed when Nael needed something, and even when Nael wept secretly over Ren’s death, Philip had silently handed him a handkerchief.
“Nael—no, Baron Baker. Please return safely.”
“Philip, you too.”
Behind him, Killian clicked his tongue in irritation.
Tsk, tsk.
“You’re acting like we’ll never come back. Like he’s family or something.”
Philip gave a deep bow.
“Next time, please come with Lady Lily as well.”
“Yes, of course. I will.”
The warmth of their farewell was brief.
The Grand Duke’s servants had come out to the front of the castle to see them off.
Their silent hopes for safety on the journey ahead were clear.
Nael gazed out the window at the towering northern castle fading into the distance.
That grand fortress grew smaller and smaller.
“It’s cold—close the window. Your nose is turning red.”
“Just a little longer. I want to look a bit more.”
It might be months, or even years, before he returned. Killian tapped his thigh.
With a pout, Nael sat down heavily on Killian’s lap.
“You’ll get sick of seeing it for the rest of your life.”
“The northern castle?”
“We’ll be going back and forth between the north and south plenty.”
“It might be good to inspect the four northern territories as well.”
The languid voice drifted slowly into his ears.
Nael thought for a moment that he must have misheard.
“My territories?”
His bewildered reply was met with Killian gently stroking his cheek.
The cold wind had left Nael’s face flushed like ripened fruit.
The northern air was dry and biting, harsh enough to chap skin quickly, yet Nael remained as translucent as when he had first arrived from the south, untouched by the climate.
“Mm.”
Nael blinked his round eyes, tilting his head as he tried to decipher Killian’s intentions.
First jewels and riches, and now even lands—he stared blankly at the man who seemed intent on giving him everything.
When his gaze finally circled back to Killian, the other’s arrogantly arched brows lifted slightly.
“By the way, I’m looking forward to it. You haven’t forgotten your promise to show me where you lived in the south, have you?”
“No, of course not.”
Nael smiled brightly, his earlier awkwardness completely erased, replaced by a refreshing cheer.
Wherever he was, it felt like spring.
“My lord, you might be disappointed.”
“Hmm.”
Killian had already received reports and had a rough idea, but he feigned ignorance.
He didn’t want to crush Nael’s expectations.
Whenever Nael spoke of his humble past, his jewel-like eyes would glimmer—sometimes clouded with sorrow, other times brimming with joy.
Killian cupped his chin and kissed him softly, as if cradling his unspoken emotions.
The rest of Nael’s murmurs dissolved into nothingness.
Inside the carriage, only the sound of their breathing intertwined.
Killian’s hand trailed down Nael’s back, rounding the curve before slipping lower.
Ah, my lord…
“You’re already hard. Didn’t I take care of you thoroughly this morning?”
Killian chuckled lowly, resting his forehead against Nael’s shoulder.
This insatiable creature—just the slightest touch had him moaning and hardening instantly.
Even when he denied it, a mere brush of fingers had him rutting like a filly in heat, smearing slick everywhere.
Not that Killian’s own arousal was any better.
With Nael beside him, he grew drunk on his floral scent, his blood boiling with the urge to warm that lower body temperature.
And yet, despite the heat not even being that intense, this wicked thing had him constantly on edge, as if he were the one losing control.
Killian’s fingers traced carefully, making Nael shiver.
The sensation through his clothes drew a helpless moan from his lips.
Click, click. The belt—toy-like compared to Killian’s large hands—easily came undone.
With a single kiss, Nael’s damp underwear was flicked aside.
His lips were already parted, breathing heavily.
The way his chest heaved, far more intensely than the act warranted, only fueled Killian’s excitement.
“Nael, I think you need to warm my cock.”
“Here…? Ah!”
“You’ll get to see the scenery plenty later.”
Killian turned Nael to face him.
The younger man squirmed, reluctant to surrender so easily—if pleasure overtook him, his face would twist obscenely, and what if someone saw?
Just as he thought to push Killian away, the man was faster.
Snick.
With a playful grin, Killian drew the carriage curtains shut.
“That’s unfair.”
“Who said I’d let anyone see you? Hmm? I’ve half a mind to lock you in a gilded cage where only I can look at you. Speaking of, I should have one made—along with a matching collar and shackles.”
The teasing tone made Nael want to hide under his cloak in embarrassment.
He knew all too well that Killian’s words had a way of becoming reality.
The mere thought of being caged made his face burn.
Killian’s hand slipped beneath Nael’s underwear.
His fingers, snug against flushed skin, danced downward, tracing the length of his erection.
After playfully tapping his balls, Killian’s touch wandered past the perineum, circling the twitching rim.
The hole that had taken him day and night without fail was already glistening with slick.
“I thought I milked you dry last night. What’s this?”
Killian whispered against Nael’s ear, tracing the wet folds with his fingers.
* * *
