Chapter 45: A Cage Behind the Wall

Although Owen had wanted the consort to admit his wrongdoing, when Fria actually did so, he found himself at a loss for words. He had confined Byron simply because he wanted him far away from his consort, never to approach again.

As for punishing the consort himself, he had not even thought that far. All the way here, his thoughts had only boiled with rage; he had no plan beyond that.

Owen’s gaze, robbed of words, swept over Fria from head to toe. Perhaps it was for disguise, but the man wore plain, modest clothes that would never catch the eye. Yet to Owen, this appearance in ordinary attire looked far better than when he wore dresses.

His eyes rose again and stopped at the pale face of his consort. Golden lashes cast shadows over tear-filled eyes, and delicate brows, arching like the flutter of bird wings, rested against his white forehead. That forehead, Byron had kissed that white forehead.

Before he knew it, Owen’s hand had reached out and touched Fria’s brow. As though trying to erase the spot another man’s lips had touched, his thumb rubbed harshly back and forth across it. The pale skin reddened quickly beneath the force, soft as a peach.

His hand slid down to Fria’s cheek, brushing over the fine hairs on his skin. Thinking he was about to be struck again, Fria squeezed his eyes shut, only to reopen them when he felt the unfamiliar sensation against his bare skin.

‘What is he doing?’

The emperor, wearing an unreadable expression, was caressing his face with one hand. Fingers tracing over his lips pressed down on the lower one, parting them slightly. Then a thumb slipped into his mouth.

Wrapped in the warm, wet softness of his tongue and inner flesh, the finger slowly stroked the inside of his mouth.

“…”

Fria’s eyes wandered helplessly in confusion. His ears began to burn red.

Even a fool would notice it, the desire hidden in those slow movements, the heated longing burning within the dark eyes fixed upon him.

This was the third time the emperor had looked at him like this. The first had been that stormy night when Owen, drugged and feverish, had behaved like a stubborn child. The second had been before the fireplace in the cabin where they had gone to dry their rain-soaked bodies.

Fria trembled beneath Owen as the sound of a bottle uncorking broke the silence. Liquid spilled from it and ran down between his legs, pooling on the wooden floor.

Oil-slick fingers moved smoothly down the line of his body. Every time those slippery fingers stirred inside him, broken m*ans escaped his lips.

Fria stared dazedly at the mounted deer head hanging on the wall beyond Owen’s shoulder. Shelves were lined with preserved foods dried for the summer stores. The cramped cabin filled with heat and wet gasps.

Who could have imagined the emperor and his consort sharing such intimacy in a place like this?

At last, something hard pressed against the loosened opening. Owen gripped Fria’s trembling thigh with crushing strength. His lower body felt pressed down like mud beneath a weight. A hot breath burst from him and vanished into the summer air.

At some point, his crossed ankles had locked around Owen’s waist, refusing to let him go. It hurt, it still hurt, but Fria realized that some kinds of pain were so hot and sweet that they made one crave more.

A sticky hand touched Fria’s shoulder as he lay limp and panting. As though teasing him, Owen’s fingers traced circles over his skin before pressing downward, searching for something hidden beneath the flesh.

Wondering what he was doing, Fria turned his head and let out a short gasp at the tingling sensation running down his spine. Like a seal pressed into melted wax, Owen’s lips marked his skin with red traces. The firewood in the hearth crackled fiercely.

Just like then, sparks snapped inside the fireplace. Seized by uncontrollable impulse, Owen grabbed the back of Fria’s head and kissed him.

In an instant, Owen’s tongue invaded his mouth, tasting every place his thumb had touched, his lips, tongue, white teeth, palate, the soft flesh inside.

‘I want to st*ip him to the bone and devour him whole.’

A hunger whose beginning he could no longer trace rose hot from beneath his waist. Breathing harshly, Owen began greedily consuming his consort.

So much for imperial etiquette lessons.

Swept away helplessly in the emperor’s storm, Fria found himself thinking absurdly, ‘The bed is right there, so why are we doing this on the floor?’

The fibers of the rug were crushed flat beneath their weight, unable to recover their shape. Owen’s hand slipped beneath Fria’s clothes, stroking over his back, waist, and sides without order.

The buttons fastening the front of his shirt snapped loose and scattered across the floor. When Owen’s fingers slid over his exposed stomach, Fria sucked in a tense breath.

Owen caressed the soft skin rising and falling with each breath before lowering his lips above his navel. Like sweet rain falling into a dry well.

“Ah, that tick- ngh…”

A wet tongue soaked his navel and painted over Fria’s pale skin like a brush. The rough way Owen bit down made his waist tremble uncontrollably, his toes curling.

“Ah- ahh, ha!”

Tracing a finger over the hardened n*b before him, Owen lowered his lips once more.

“Ah, it hurts!”

As if soothing the skin marked by his teeth, he showered it with little kisses. Every time Fria arched away trying to escape, Owen’s lips chased after him relentlessly.

Lying on the floor and breathing raggedly, Fria felt his head settle into Owen’s palm. Soft strands of hair slipped between the emperor’s fingers.

When Owen tightened his grip, the fine silk tangled there and brushed against the back of his hand. Still flushed with ar*usal, Owen finally spoke.

“What did you do when you spent time with Byron?”

“…With him…”

Fria answered in a languid voice.

“We took walks…”

“Took walks?”

Repeating his words, Owen slowly pressed more weight down onto the body trapped beneath him. Bare legs, slick with sweat, spread apart once more under the pressure.

“Drank tea…”

“Drank tea, and?”

“…Read books together.”

Walks, tea, books. The usual stories Owen heard about Byron involved banquets and salons, not libraries. He had heard Byron had recently been searching everywhere for rare medical texts.

Owen had thought he had simply met an unusual person. Realizing now that it had all been because of Fria’s deception made him laugh bitterly.

“If that’s all, you could have done those things with anyone. Why Byron?”

“Because he said he would be my friend…”

Fria added drowsily, believing these words would clear up the emperor’s misunderstanding.

“I have no intention of becoming that sort of person with another man, the sort Your Majesty imagines.”

Nor with women, either. Becoming someone’s lover would only leave unbearable pain behind for the one left alone.

“With another man, you say?”

Not noticing the chill in Owen’s voice, Fria nodded.

“Yes. We can be friends, but not lovers.”

“I see.”

Owen pulled himself away from Fria and rose from the floor. Without a word, he began dressing himself. Following his example, Fria reached for the shirt lying on the ground.

Owen snatched it away first and strode toward the fireplace. Before Fria’s bewildered eyes, he tossed the clothes into the flames.

“Your Majesty? What are you doing?”

Looking down at Fria’s stunned expression, Owen spoke.

“I’m no longer certain whether it’s safe to send you back to the consorts’ palace.”

“…What?”

“If men cannot become that sort of thing to you, women can, can’t they? Who knows if next time you’ll decide you want to be friends with some noble lady instead.”

“…What?”

‘You’re locking me up to protect the court ladies from me?’

Fria stared in disbelief at the absurd accusation.

“Y-Your Majesty!”

As though irritated by the sound of his voice, Owen strode quickly toward the wall.

“Your Majesty!”

Surely he wasn’t just going to leave him here?

Feeling Fria’s pleading gaze on his back, Owen turned around again, gathered up the discarded trousers from the floor, and threw them into the fireplace as well. The crackle of flames filled Fria’s ears.

“You are not to take a single step without my permission. If you leave this place against my orders, you will never see sunlight again. That is your punishment.”

Fria rushed forward, pounding against the wall after it closed behind the emperor.

“This is a joke… right?”

📚 Also on NHV Novels

The Imperial Evening

AngstFantasy RomanceImperial Palace

Read Now →
Not interested