The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 412

Chapter 412: Bolder

Luca’s body was trembling.

Not from fear.

Not from uncertainty.

But from heat.

From need.

His fingers were still tangled in Xavier’s hair, the other curled against his shoulder. But now, now his eyes had drifted down lower to where the undeniable shape of his husband’s arousal pressed against him, hard and unrelenting.

His breath hitched.

And his cheeks went scarlet.

He didn’t look away.

Not immediately.

His golden eyes widened just a little, lips parting as if his breath had forgotten how to come naturally. And then he looked up again, to Xavier, as if seeking confirmation for something his body already knew.

Because this time, after the prince had taught him about it, he knew what that was and what it usually meant.

It was a wordless conversation.

And Xavier, who had been doing so well with his restraint, felt it falter as he stared into those startled but resolute eyes.

Ah.

He knows.

Xavier’s jaw tensed. His gaze dropped to the lips he had just been kissing, then up again to the flushed face that had never looked more dangerously angelic.

But instead of leaning back in—like every instinct screamed at him to—he gently raised a hand and tucked one short, black lock of hair behind Luca’s ear. Then, with soft reverence, he pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Slow.

Tender.

Final.

Then he moved.

With deliberate care, Xavier shifted, adjusting their bodies as he prepared to set Luca down properly on the bed. The blankets had slipped during their heated exchange, and he began to draw them over Luca’s side again, like it was time to say goodnight.

Like he was going to leave.

But the moment his hand left Luca’s waist—

A tug.

A sharp pull at his coat lapel.

Xavier froze.

Luca had grabbed him.

Instinctively.

Not hard, but firm enough to make him pause.

The prince looked down, startled, only to find his little chipmunk panting softly beneath him, eyes flicking with wild sparks of something heady and new.

They were too far apart.

Too far.

Luca didn’t like that.

He tugged again, more urgently this time, his hand twisting in Xavier’s shirt like he was bracing himself.

"Luca?" Xavier asked, the word barely above a breath.

The little guide swallowed hard.

His gaze never left him.

"Are you..." He whispered, voice thin and shaky. "Are you going to leave again tonight?"

Xavier hesitated.

Only for a second.

"I should," he said, though it sounded like a lie even to himself.

But then—

"You can’t."

That soft plea.

A voice barely stronger than a whisper, but firm with want.

"I don’t want you to."

Xavier’s pulse thudded so loudly it hurt.

Not from guilt.

But from the sheer weight of that small sentence.

He could walk away. He’d promised himself that he would.

But Luca was looking at him like he’d just put a knife in his chest. And still, he wasn’t pushing him away.

He was pulling him closer.

And Xavier was breaking.

One hand slowly returned to the bed, bracing himself near Luca’s shoulder as he stared down at him.

"Luca..."

There was a warning in his voice.

A tremor in his restraint.

But the golden-eyed guide didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand moved from Xavier’s lapel to the side of his face. He cupped his cheek gently—barely a touch—but it was enough to drag Xavier’s breath from his lungs.

"Stay."

His voice was soft.

But his eyes were clear.

"Please...I want you to stay."

Luca didn’t just want him to stay.

He needed him to.

And maybe it was how the little guide tugged at him or how he looked at him with such clear eyes but somehow it got Xavier thinking.

That if he left now, something in that precious face might collapse. Something tender and trusting would fold in on itself, and the prince couldn’t bear to think about it.

So he didn’t leave.

He lowered himself again, slowly.

His fire met Xavier’s cool skin with a soft hiss that felt like their bodies were waking up the air around them. He watched Xavier’s skin twitch, watched the way the coldness responded to his heat. And in that response, something flared in his chest. _{freewёbnoνel.com}