* * *
Desperate, Lowell gathered both hands to grip his shaft tightly.
It was strange—Felix was the one being pleasured, yet Lowell felt like his own brain was melting from the heat.
“You can squeeze even harder.”
But even that wasn’t enough.
Felix still wasn’t cumming.
The sustained knotting was making him suffer, beads of sweat rolling down his body like rain.
Lowell hated just watching him struggle.
“Felix… what should I do?”
Lowell’s voice was hoarse from moaning as he whispered the question.
“Let me see your face.”
The moment he lifted his gaze, Felix grinned—a blissful, intoxicated smile, pure as a child’s.
The sight of it made Lowell’s heart skip, and before he realized it, he was stroking Felix’s cheek.
Felix leaned into the touch like an eager pup, rubbing against his palm with closed eyes.
After taking a brief respite in the eye of the storm, they began moving again.
Felix’s thrusts became rougher, and Lowell matched his rhythm with his hands.
He wanted to end Felix’s torment quickly, but another desire had begun to grow—he wanted to see him lose himself completely.
“I love it.”
Whether he meant the act itself or Lowell, the words were ambiguous.
But either way, Lowell’s skin burned red.
He had received no other stimulation, yet the sight of Felix in ecstasy made his cock harden all over again.
“Felix, I love it too.”
At those words, Felix’s cock twitched violently.
Having held back for too long, he finally erupted, spilling thick ropes of cum.
It wasn’t just a release—it was pure, primal instinct, as though his body existed solely to fill his mate.
His seed splattered across Lowell’s hands, then dripped onto the sheets in heavy drops.
“Haa… haah…”
Lowell exhaled shakily, his fingers still tingling as he slowly released his grip.
Felix, exhausted, wrapped Lowell tightly in his arms, as if making up for lost time.
Entwined like a single being, they sank into a peaceful rest.
Two fragmented souls, now made whole.
Outside the window, the raging snowstorm finally began to quiet, allowing the night to settle into a warm, tranquil embrace.
The castle should have been calm now that its master had returned, but chaos had persisted all day.
Lowell, weakened as he was, had succumbed to exhaustion after their night of pleasure.
“Hurry, bring cold water.”
Wearing a deeply guilty expression, Felix scowled as he gave the order to the servants.
The sound of hurried footsteps filled the room, stirring Lowell from his heavy slumber.
“I’m fine. I think I just relaxed too much and caught a bit of a cold.”
It was true—he wasn’t gravely ill.
The symptoms were nothing more than mild fever and muscle aches.
But that didn’t ease Felix’s guilt in the slightest.
He had already been fragile, and yet Felix had pushed him to the point of collapse.
Worse, his memory of the night before was patchy at best.
“Did everything go well with your work?”
Lowell’s voice, asking so naturally, was rough—like parched earth cracked by a severe drought.
“If you get up, I’ll tell you.”
It was meant as a gentle way of saying he should rest instead of straining to speak, but Lowell pursed his lips slightly, looking a little disappointed.
“Then tell me another story instead. Even an old tale would be fine.”
“An old tale?”
“Yes. When I was sick as a child, I used to beg my parents to read to me. It was usually fairy tales where everyone lived happily ever after. I like stories that end happily.”
Drifting in and out of fevered haze, Lowell was reaching back into his childhood.
It was a story he normally wouldn’t bring up—memories always came with longing, and longing hurt—but right now, for some reason, it felt okay.
“I don’t know many stories.”
“If you’re the one telling it, I’ll like whatever it is.”
Felix dipped a cloth into the fresh, cold water and placed it on Lowell’s forehead, his lips pressing into a firm line as if in thought.
Xenia wanted to say she’d take over the caretaking, but seeing the seriousness in Felix’s expression, she stepped back without a word.
“Then, I’ll tell you a story I heard when I was young.”
His voice, which always softened when speaking to Lowell, filled the room.
With his eyes closed, Lowell focused on the story that was about to unfold.
“Once upon a time, there was a dark sorcerer.”
At that opening, the knights standing guard outside flinched.
Everyone knew the story, yet in the Grand Duke’s castle, it was something no one ever spoke of aloud.
After all, it was one of the tales used to slander Felix.
But Lowell, unaware of this, simply nodded earnestly.
“The darkness surrounding him was so deep and strong that it devoured everything around him. People feared him and kept their distance.”
“That’s terrible.”
Even in his drowsy state, Lowell responded dutifully. Felix patted him gently before continuing.
“He hated being alone. He longed for a friend. So, he tried breathing a soul into a doll he always carried. He never even imagined that it was black magic.”
The thought of someone so lonely they had to talk to a doll made Lowell’s chest ache.
He couldn’t help but think that Felix’s loneliness might not have been so different.
If only he had been there in Felix’s childhood—maybe he could have been more comfort than some silent doll.
It was a foolish, impossible thought, but he couldn’t help it.
“The doll faithfully played its role. At first, it could only say a few words, but over time, it learned to speak more and more, like a child learning language.”
“And then?”
“Then the misfortune began. The doll started wandering outside on its own. People found it eerie—an unnatural thing walking around—so they shunned the sorcerer even more.”
It was ironic. In his attempt to escape loneliness, he had only made himself lonelier.
“The doll gradually darkened, and people began to call it ominous. Then one day, a great flood struck the village. Desperate for something to blame, the villagers turned on the sorcerer and his doll. And to be fair, black magic always comes with a price.”
Felix’s voice grew quieter.
Lowell blinked slowly, his fevered mind trying to understand why Felix had chosen this particular story.
“The enraged villagers couldn’t bring themselves to attack the sorcerer directly, so they devised a plan to destroy the doll instead. The problem was that the sorcerer cherished the doll too much to let it out of his sight. That’s when someone in the village suggested a way to separate them—by sending in an omega baker, a kindhearted man who had no partner due to a limp.”
Felix paused, taking a measured breath before continuing.
Lowell, now deeply engrossed, only gave a small nod of acknowledgment.
“The omega had no idea about the villagers’ scheme. He simply wanted to befriend the lonely sorcerer. And before long, the two, both so desperate for connection, fell in love. For the first time, the sorcerer left his home to travel with someone. The moment they departed, the villagers stormed his house and destroyed the doll.”
“Oh no…”
Lowell let out a hot sigh, genuinely heartbroken.
“When the sorcerer returned and saw the shattered doll, he believed his beloved had betrayed him. Enraged, he decided to unleash all his black magic to destroy the village.”
“And…? Did he?”
“No. He couldn’t.”
Lowell’s breath caught as Felix continued.
“The sorcerer stood before the abyss, prepared to summon the Demon King and become one with him. But before he could, the baker appeared. Furious, the sorcerer tried to kill him… but in the end, he couldn’t even lift a finger against him.”
Felix saw himself in that sorcerer. Distrustful, wary—yet ultimately, unable to harm the one he loved.
“And then the baker kissed him. That’s when the sorcerer realized he had misunderstood everything. He came to his senses, and peace returned to the village. After that, he never used black magic again.”
Felix’s fingers traced gently over Lowell’s cheek as he spoke.
“It’s a happy story,” Lowell murmured.
“My mother believed that love has the power to save people.”
“Was this… a story she told you?”
Blinking heavily from exhaustion, Lowell barely managed to get the words out.
“Yeah. Though the original version ends with the Demon King being slain by a hero, who then unites the continent and builds an empire.”
Felix gave a wry smile as he ran his fingers through Lowell’s damp hair.
“I… prefer stories full of love.”
“I figured you would.”
“Then… what did the sorcerer and the baker do… after they found peace?”
“I never heard that part.”
“I want to hear more… but I’m so sleepy…”
With those final words, Lowell drifted off into slumber.
Felix placed a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Sleep well.”
* * *
