When Cael finally stirred awake, the sun was already high—noon had arrived. His entire body throbbed with pain, a deep, numbing ache rooted in every inch of his skin. His wrists bore the imprint of restraint—dark, purplish bruises marking where Rowan had held him down. His thighs were sore, especially where they'd been forced apart and lifted, and his chest... his nipples were red, tender, and swollen. Bite marks, love bites, and bruises painted him like a canvas of the previous night's madness.
A soft whimper escaped him as a sharp pain radiated from his back. He shifted slowly, wincing—and froze when he realized Rowan's cock was still buried deep inside him.
"...Insane..." he whispered, fear flickering in his eyes as he glanced down at the thick thing refusing to leave him. He turned his head toward Rowan, who was still in deep sleep, his breathing steady. Not wanting to wake the beast beside him, Cael bit his lip hard to muffle any sound. Gently, carefully, he tried to slip away—easing himself out from under Rowan's possessive grip, pushing against the hardness still lodged inside him.
Finally, the length slid free, and a gush of warm, sticky cum spilled from his stretched hole, making him jolt from the unpleasant sensation. A strained moan escaped his lips at the feeling of it oozing down his thighs.
He glanced at the mess between his legs, his cheeks burning with shame and pain as vivid flashes from the night before replayed in his mind.
Fortunately, Rowan remained asleep, allowing Cael a brief moment of freedom.
________
Cael tried to slide off the bed, but the moment his feet touched the ground, his knees buckled. Thud! He collapsed with a soft cry, back aching from the brutal night. Gritting his teeth, he glanced toward Rowan—still fast asleep, unfazed.
"Shit..." Cael hissed under his breath, clutching the edge of the table. He used it, along with the wall, to hoist himself up, his movements shaky and uneven. Tap... tap... His bare feet made soft sounds against the cold floor, but that wasn't the only thing echoing—squelch... drip... squelch...—with every step, thick, warm liquid leaked from between his legs, trailing in glistening streaks down his thighs and ankles.
His belly still looked swollen, cramping sharply as if something inside refused to stay. He groaned, pressing his hand to it, stumbling toward the bathroom. Each step left behind sticky evidence—plop... drip... drip...
But just as he reached the entrance, his body gave out. Thump! He fell to his knees, trembling.
"A-ah—!" Cael gasped, shame washing over him as a sudden gush forced its way out of him with a humiliating squelch... splatter... The obscene sound of fluid hitting the floor echoed in the silent space, followed by more—drip... plop... squish...
His stomach, finally relieved, flattened slightly. Breathing heavily, Cael leaned his head against the cold bathroom wall, sweat clinging to his skin.
"Fuck..." he muttered hoarsely, eyes half-lidded in exhaustion and disgrace.
________
After cleaning himself up, Cael dressed slowly in fresh clothes, carefully choosing garments that could cover the bruises scattered across his pale skin. He buttoned the last piece and stepped in front of the mirror. The reflection that stared back was pitiful—eyes swollen and rimmed red from the night's silent sobbing, lips pale, expression hollow.
He looked like someone he didn't recognize.
How am I supposed to face the future like this...?
The thought clawed at his chest.
He had crossed a line—done things with Rowan that couldn't be undone. Things no amount of time or regret could fix. A sharp wave of guilt and helplessness tightened in his chest, suffocating. He turned away, breath caught, gaze drifting toward the open window.
Beyond it, the world was serene—bathed in golden light. Green fields swayed beneath the gentle kiss of sunlight, peaceful and warm. That... that was the freedom he once longed for. A simple life, untouched by chains or shadows. The only thing he ever truly wanted.
But dreams were cruel.
He swallowed that longing down, burying it deep within himself. He knew it was a future forever out of reach.
Silently, he stepped back, allowing the darkness of the room to swallow him again. As he approached the bed, his eyes fell on Rowan—still asleep, his face flushed unnaturally. Cael reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingers against Rowan's forehead.
"...You're burning up," he whispered, voice barely audible.
A fever.
________
Morning light had long since brightened the skies, but the atmosphere within Rowan's chamber remained dim and quiet. A faint scent of iron lingered in the air—Rowan's leg wound had reopened again, fresh blood staining the bandages from the night before. His fever had returned, burning beneath his skin like a slow fire.
Cael sat at his bedside, a bowl of cool water and clean cloths in his lap. His fingers moved gently, dabbing the sweat from Rowan's brow and carefully changing the soaked bandages. The sight of the blood made Cael's heart clench, frustration and guilt mixing in his chest.
"You reckless idiot," he muttered under his breath, though his touch was impossibly gentle.
Rowan, half-awake in his fevered daze, barely flinched. His violet eyes fluttered open just enough to see the blurry outline of the boy beside him—his entire world wrapped in quiet worry and soft hands.
"...You're here..." Rowan whispered, a faint smile curling his lips.
Before Cael could say anything, Rowan lifted Cael's hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. Then, as if comforted by that small gesture, he closed his eyes again and slipped back into sleep—still holding Cael's hand tightly, refusing to let go even in his dreams. His breathing calmed, and though his face was pale, there was a rare softness in his expression. It was the look of someone who, despite the pain and fever, had everything he'd ever wanted.
Cael sighed, brushing a few damp strands of hair from Rowan's forehead. "What should I do with you,Rowan.I dont know what to do with you anymore if you are being like this."
He sat like that for a while, letting Rowan rest.
Then came a quiet knock at the door.
Relian stepped inside with a hesitant expression. "My Lord Cael... The Crown Prince has arrived. He's asking for you."
Cael blinked, then stood slowly, carefully extracting his hand from Rowan's grip.
"...I'll go," he said, voice low but steady. He glanced back at the sleeping duke—Rowan's lashes resting peacefully against flushed cheeks, one arm still half-reaching toward where Cael had been.
Cael's expression softened. He brushed a hand along Rowan's shoulder before turning away.
As he followed Relian down the corridor, he couldn't help but smile faintly. It had been a long time since he'd seen his one and only friend. And after everything that had happened—Rowan's breakdown, the twins' intrusion, the near-violence—he knew exactly what the Crown Prince would say.
"How should I explain these to him? ," Cael thought with a small sigh.
Still... it would be good to see him again.