Unspoken confession:)
The quiet sobs were a symphony of pain that Arion couldn't contain. He felt weak, shattered, and betrayed by his own heart. But beneath the profound sorrow, a flicker of defiance ignited. He couldn't stay a crumpled mess on the bed, a monument to his own brokenness. He had to stand.
With a monumental effort, Arion pushed himself up. His legs trembled, and he stumbled as he tried to find his footing, the phantom ache between his thighs a humiliating reminder of the night's violation. He ignored Kyon's concerned step forward and shuffled toward the wardrobe, his body aching with every movement. He reached inside and grabbed a tunic, one of Kyon's, slightly too large for his frame. It was a pathetic act of reclaiming some semblance of himself.
Kyon watched him, a strange mixture of possessiveness and something akin to a cruel tenderness on his face. As Arion fumbled with the garment, trying to pull it over his head, a damp patch on the bedsheets caught the prince's eye. A flush crept up Kyon's neck, a stark contrast to his usual composure. He saw the way Arion's body still responded, the way his muscles quivered and the sweet, musky scent of their coupling still clung to the air. The sight was a potent aphrodisiac, tightening the possessive knot in his gut and the hard line of his trousers.
He stepped closer, his voice a low, husky purr. "Running away from what your body is so eager to admit, Arion? It's been hours, and you're still… reacting to me. Still wet."
Arion's face burned with a shame so deep it was almost a physical pain. He pulled the oversized tunic over his head, the soft fabric a cold comfort against his heated skin. "Don't... don't talk like that," he stammered, his voice muffled by the cloth.
Kyon closed the distance between them, his hands reaching for the hem of the tunic. He gently pulled it back from Arion's face, forcing him to look into those dark, predatory eyes. "Why not? It's the truth. We shared something beautiful, something powerful. And your body hasn't forgotten it. It craves more."
Arion shook his head, a silent, desperate denial.
Kyon's smirk returned, more confident and cruel than before. "You may despise me for what I did, but you can't deny the pleasure it brought you. I heard your whimpers, Arion. I felt your climax. You were mine, completely and utterly. There was no pretense, no resistance. Just raw, primal submission." He leaned in, his lips brushing against Arion's ear. "And the moment I touch you again, your body will forget every word of anger you've spoken. It will remember only the feeling of being taken, of being filled."
Arion's breath hitched, a fragile sob escaping his lips. He was trapped, not just by the walls of the room, but by the undeniable, shameful betrayal of his own body. He was a warrior who had been brought to his knees by a man's touch, and the worst part was, some small, terrifying part of him wanted it again. The beautiful lies were gone, but the undeniable, agonizing truth remained. He was his. And Kyon knew it.