Cael barely had time to breathe before Rowan's lips slammed into his—hot, demanding, like he was claiming what had always been his. The force of the kiss made Cael stumble back, his spine pressing against the wall as Rowan followed, closing every inch of space between them.
"Mmh—!"
Cael gasped against his mouth, but Rowan didn't stop. His kiss was messy and raw, all heat and desperation. Wet, hungry sounds echoed in the quiet room—slick, needy, obscene.
"Please... don't reject me," Rowan murmured, pain lacing his voice. The raw vulnerability in his words made Cael's resolve falter—his heart ached. Slowly, silently, he gave in and allowed him.
Rowan kissed like a man starved—tongue pushing past Cael's lips, exploring every inch with feverish greed. His hand gripped the back of Cael's neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss until their breaths tangled and mouths moved as one.
"Nnh... ha..." Cael moaned softly, lips red and swollen, trying to catch a breath—but Rowan chased him. Every time he pulled back, Rowan dragged him right back in, their mouths crashing together in a dance of need.
"You taste so good,Cael.My Cael..." Rowan whispered hoarsely between kisses, voice thick with desire. His teeth grazed Cael's bottom lip before biting down lightly—drawing a soft gasp.
Cael shivered, his hands trembling against Rowan's chest, unsure whether to push or pull.
Rowan's other hand slid down, grabbing Cael by the waist and grinding their bodies together. The sound of lips parting, reconnecting, the wet suction and low groans—it filled the air, thick and charged.
"You don't know what you do to me," Rowan breathed, his mouth trailing hotly down Cael's jaw, licking into the space beneath his ear. "You make me insane."
Cael bit his lip, face flushed, eyes dazed. The heat between them was unbearable, intoxicating. The way Rowan kissed him—like he was trying to consume him whole—made his knees weak. Suddenly, Cael heard footsteps below the balcony. His breath caught.
"It's the patrol... they'll see us," he whispered, panic creeping into his voice.
Rowan didn't stop—his mouth still hot against Cael's skin, possessive and relentless—until Cael shoved him back in alarm. With hurried hands, Cael straightened himself and ducked low, pressing into the shadows to avoid being seen.
Below, one of the knights happened to glance up.
For a moment, all he saw was Duke Rowan standing motionless on the balcony, gazing down with a cold, unreadable expression. But then their eyes met.
Rowan's violet gaze gleamed ominously in the moonlight—sharp, annoyed, and radiating danger. The knight's heart dropped. Instinct took over. He immediately bowed in panic and retreated down the path, sweat beading at his brow.
He didn't know what he had done wrong, but one thing was certain: the duke was angry—and he had looked right at him.
Back on the balcony, Cael finally exhaled, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he clutched the railing. His heart pounded, still shaken by how close they'd come to being discovered.
Then he looked up—straight into Rowan's eyes.
They were narrowed, his displeasure unmistakable. A flicker of frustration lingered in his gaze, mixed with something darker.
Cael felt a chill slide down his spine.
"I'm so screwed," he thought.
Without warning, Rowan scooped Cael into his arms and carried him across the room, ignoring the sharp pain in his injured leg. Cael let out a startled breath, reaching for his shoulder.
"Rowan—your leg, don't—!"
But before he could finish, his back met the soft surface of the bed. The world tilted. Cael blinked up, breath caught in his throat, as Rowan loomed over him like a shadow.
"R-Rowan?"
___________
He tried to push himself up, but the look in Rowan's eyes rooted him in place. There was something feral in those violet depths—something unhinged, dark, and drowning in desire. His fever-flushed face, disheveled black hair, and trembling breath made him look less like a man and more like a beast starved too long.
Cael's heart pounded.
He had been worried about Rowan's wound—about his fever, his health. But now he realized, too late, that he should have been worried about himself.
Rowan wasn't just burning up from the fever.
He was burning with something far more dangerous.
And Cael... was trapped beneath him.
Then, without warning, Rowan's grip tightened—and rip.
The sound of tearing fabric split the air as he yanked Cael's shirt open with brute force, buttons scattering across the floor. Cael gasped, his body arching as the cool air rushed over his newly exposed skin.
"Rowan—!" he breathed, voice trembling with shock and shame.
His porcelain skin, usually hidden beneath layers, was now bare—soft, flawless, and dusted with a faint blush that bloomed across his chest and neck. His nipples hardened under the cold air and Rowan's unrelenting gaze.
Cael's entire body flushed in humiliation, arms instinctively moving to cover himself—but Rowan caught his wrists again, holding them firm.
"Don't hide from me," Rowan growled, his voice thick with desire. "You're so beautiful."
He leaned down, lips brushing over Cael's flushed collarbone before trailing lower—pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of his chest. Wet sucking sounds mixed with Cael's soft moans, each kiss leaving a mark—bitten and red, proof of possession.
"Ah... ha..." Cael panted, squirming under the attention, his mind spinning. His embarrassment only deepened as Rowan's mouth latched onto one of his nipples, sucking hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.
Schlck... mmh... pop.
The obscene noises echoed in the room, mixing with Cael's whimpers and ragged breaths. His thighs trembled, body betraying him with every passing second.
Rowan pulled back just enough to look at him—hair tousled, lips wet and slightly parted, eyes blazing. "Look at you," he whispered. "Already trembling, and I've barely started."
Rowan's lips circled Cael's nipple again—warm, wet, relentless. Cael's breath hitched as the soft suckling turned sharper, needier. Then—bite.
"A-ahh—!"
Cael cried out, his back arching as Rowan bit down, teeth sinking just enough to sting. A sharp jolt of pain shot through him, but it was laced with a twisted pleasure that made his knees buckle.
Rowan didn't let go. He held the sensitive nub between his teeth, tugging lightly, then soothing it with a hot swirl of his tongue. Wet sounds—slurp, suck, pop— filled the room as Cael trembled in his arms, gasping for air.
His fingers clutched at Rowan's shoulders, nails digging in, unsure if he was trying to push him away or hold on for dear life.
Rowam stared at the fresh bite mark, a hint of blood rising to the surface, and grinned with satisfaction—as if branding Cael as his own.
Cael's voice trembled.
"Rowan... please stop."
"Stop?" Rowan's smile turned dark. "I've only just started."
Cael's soft moans spilled into the silence, mingling with the lewd, wet sounds of Rowan's mouth against his skin. His pale body was littered with red bite marks—nipples swollen, chest glistening with spit. Rowan's lips moved lower, slower, like a predator savoring the path to his prey.
When he reached the inside of Cael's thigh, he paused—just long enough for the tension to coil tighter in Cael's gut. Hot breath fanned over the sensitive skin, making Cael shudder.
"Wait—Rowan—" Cael's voice shook, but his body betrayed him, trembling not from fear alone, but from raw, aching need.
But Rowan didn't wait.
A sudden rush of heat and wetness made Cael cry out—Rowan's mouth wrapped around his most vulnerable part, swallowing him whole defendless member without mercy. Schlk... mmh... slrp... The sounds were obscene, echoing in the room like a filthy rhythm.
Cael's hands shot out, grabbing at the sheets, at Rowan's hair—anything—gasping as his hardening length was devoured inch by inch. His hips bucked, helplessly, but Rowan only held him tighter, tongue working with maddening precision.
Rowan sucked with slow, deliberate hunger—lips tight around him, tongue swirling, pulling moans straight from Cael's throat. The shame burned in his face, but the pleasure... the pleasure was blinding.
"Ha—ahh... mmn... Rowan...!" Cael cried, voice high and breaking, each sound sweeter than the last.
Rowan didn't stop. He wanted everything—every twitch, every whimper, every drop of Cael's surrender.
Cael's body tensed—and then shattered.
A choked moan escaped his lips as he released, hot spurts of cum spilling into Rowan's mouth. His head fell back, eyes rolling, breath hitching in waves of overwhelming pleasure. His thighs trembled, his body utterly undone.
For a brief moment, he floated—lost in the heat of it all. But the weight of reality hit him just as fast.
His flushed gaze dropped—and what he saw made his heart lurch.
__________
Rowan was looking up at him, face stained with desire... and Cael's release. White streaks glistened on his cheek, his lips, even across his fingers. His tongue slid out, slow and sinful, licking the remnants from his hand like it was the finest thing he'd ever tasted.
Then—he swallowed.
Cael's eyes widened in horror.
"R-Rowan! Don't—don't swallow that!" he shouted, voice rising in panicked disbelief.
But Rowan only laughed lowly, the sound rich and satisfied, like a devil basking in the sin he'd just committed. His violet eyes gleamed, half-lidded and dark with lust as he leaned back slightly, licking the corner of his mouth, deliberately slow.
"You taste too good to waste," he purred, voice husky and wicked. "How could I not?"
Cael's entire face turned scarlet. He buried his face in his hands, legs trembling beneath him. But Rowan's gaze never left him—hungry, amused, and utterly entranced.
So vulnerable. So humiliated.
And yet... to Rowan, he had never looked more erotic.
With the remnants of Cael's release still warm on his skin, Rowan's slick fingers trailed lower—down the curve of Cael's trembling body, until they hovered at his most intimate place. Cael flinched the moment he felt a finger press against his entrance—sticky, slow, and deliberate.
"N-No... not there," he gasped, panic flashing in his eyes. He reached out, trying to push Rowan away in a desperate plea.
But Rowan was faster. Stronger.
With one firm motion, he flipped Cael onto his stomach and pressed him down into the bed. Cael's breath caught as his bare hips were exposed, lifted slightly by Rowan's grip. One of Rowan's large hands pinned both of Cael's wrists to the sheets, while the other continued its sinful work—fingers slipping in and out, steady and deep.
"Stop—ah... please, stop..." Cael cried out, voice cracking from fear and shame. But Rowan's touch didn't falter.
One finger became two. Then three.
Each thrust stretched him open with slow, deliberate pressure—preparing him, breaking him in with unrelenting control. The slick, wet sounds between them were obscene, and Cael's moans, laced with pain and helpless pleasure, filled the air.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he trembled beneath Rowan's weight, dread curling in his gut. He could feel it—Rowan's hard length pressed against the back of his thigh, hot and heavy. He knew what was coming.
"No... Rowan, don't... please..."
But instead of stopping, Rowan leaned down, his lips brushing against Cael's burning red ear. His voice was deep, low, almost a growl.
"Be a good boy."