Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 243 - 238: Victory and Spite (2)

Damian moved over him fully now, kissing a trail down his torso, one hand steady on Gabriel’s hip while the other mapped every inch of newly exposed skin. His mouth was hot, wet, unhurried. He lingered where Gabriel was most sensitive—under his ribs, just above the bone of his hip, along the faint line of a scar only a few had ever seen.

Gabriel’s back arched as Damian reached the waistband of his pants, unfastening them with maddening patience.

"Lift," Damian said, and Gabriel did, breath heavy.

The fabric slid down, leaving him fully bare, his arousal flushed and already slick. Damian paused—just for a heartbeat—his eyes devouring the sight like it undid him.

Then his mouth descended.

Gabriel swore, one hand flying to the sheets, the other still in Damian’s hair. The heat, the wet glide of tongue, the way Damian knew the rhythm he liked—it was overwhelming. No court mask, no measured tone, no distance.

Only desire.

Damian took his time, working him open with mouth and fingers, drawing gasps and half-choked curses from Gabriel’s lips. He teased, then soothed, then pushed deeper—not just physically, but emotionally. Like every touch said, I see you, and every kiss answered, You’re mine.

When Gabriel was gasping, legs shaking, close but not there, Damian pulled back just enough to press their foreheads together.

"I need you," he said, voice raw.

"Then take me," Gabriel whispered.

Damian didn’t hesitate. He slicked himself quickly, efficiently, and pressed forward—slow, careful, letting Gabriel adjust to the stretch, to the connection that always felt like too much and not enough.

Gabriel moaned low in his throat, his legs wrapping instinctively around Damian’s waist.

The pace started slow. Intimate. Deep. freёweɓnovel.com

Every thrust was deliberate, syncing to the beat of their hearts. Damian’s forehead rested against Gabriel’s, their breaths tangled, their hands locked.

"You drive me insane," Damian murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You destroy rooms and build nations in the same breath."

Gabriel’s nails bit into his shoulders. "Then shut up and—"

Damian rolled his hips just right.

"Gods—like that—"

"I know."

He picked up the pace, the slap of skin against skin growing louder in the quiet room, broken only by the soft creak of the bed and the sounds Gabriel couldn’t hold in anymore.

The pleasure built fast—white-hot, electric. Damian hit that spot inside him over and over, pushing Gabriel higher with each thrust, each growl, each whispered mine.

Gabriel broke first.

His orgasm hit hard, stars behind his eyes, his body tightening around Damian with a cry that wasn’t elegant, wasn’t composed—just real.

Damian followed moments later, burying himself deep, his own release drawn out by the way Gabriel clenched around him, the way his name sounded on Gabriel’s lips like a prayer.

They stayed like that for a long time.

Breathless. Spent. Twined together in a way that made politics and titles feel laughably small.

Damian didn’t pull out right away. He kissed Gabriel’s jaw, his shoulder, the edge of his collarbone. Whispered something too soft to catch.

Gabriel’s hand stroked lazily down his back, half-asleep already, lips curved in a rare, secret smile.

"I don’t want to go to the ball tomorrow," he mumbled.

"You won’t have to do anything," Damian murmured back. "Just stand next to me and scowl."

Gabriel snorted. "Romantic."

Damian kissed his hair. "Only for you."

The silence that followed was warm. Not empty—never empty with Damian—but filled with the slow exhale of tension, the quiet thrum of connection that needed no words.

Damian didn’t move, still buried deep, his weight resting comfortably over Gabriel without crushing him. His hand lazily traced circles along Gabriel’s side, almost absentminded, like his body still needed to touch, even when his mind had gone quiet.

For once, Gabriel didn’t push him away.

Didn’t retreat into sarcasm or shift to grab the nearest report.

He just... breathed. Felt the afterglow hum low in his belly. Let his fingers trail along Damian’s spine, down to the sharp ridge of his lower back.

But the calm didn’t last long.

Not because of discomfort. Not because of duty.

Because something inside him stirred—and this time, it wasn’t just about need.

He wanted more.

Gabriel shifted slightly under him, testing the lingering stretch, the ache that was no longer too much—but tempting. Teasing. He rolled his hips, slow and subtle, and felt Damian twitch in response.

Still hard.

Still inside him.

Damian’s breath caught. "Gabriel—"

"Don’t stop," Gabriel whispered, lips brushing his jaw. "Not yet."

Damian pulled back enough to look at him.

There was a question in his eyes—but no resistance. Just a flicker of something dark and molten underneath the gold.

"Again?" he murmured, voice low with heat.

Gabriel curled his legs tighter around him. "I’m not done with you," he said, his voice rich with intent. "And you’re not done with me."

Damian’s growl was soft but dangerous—like a storm about to roll in. He braced himself over Gabriel, muscles flexing, desire reigniting with a vengeance.

"You want to ride the edge again?" he asked, brushing his lips against Gabriel’s. "Or do you want to be ruined?"

Gabriel met his gaze with a wicked smile. "Yes."

Damian surged forward, hips grinding deep, and this time there was no slow buildup. No teasing. Just raw rhythm and heat, their bodies colliding with hungry precision.

Gabriel moaned, louder than before, fingers clawing at Damian’s back. His body welcomed him now—slick, ready, greedy for more.

"Fuck," Damian rasped, thrusting harder, faster, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing between them. "You’re so tight like this—still."

Gabriel arched under him, meeting each thrust with wild abandon, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure mounted fast again. The stimulation—too much, too perfect—bordered on unbearable, and he loved it.

"Harder," he gasped, nails dragging down Damian’s arms. "Don’t stop—gods—"

Damian obeyed. He angled his hips just right, grinding against that spot that made Gabriel cry out, made his legs tremble, and made the pressure coil white-hot behind his eyes.

It didn’t take long this time.

Gabriel came again with a shudder, back arched off the bed, the world splintering around him in flashes of heat and pulse and Damian.

And Damian followed, buried deep, holding him tight, groaning low in his throat as he spilled inside again—like it was the first time, every time.

They collapsed together, breath ragged, limbs tangled.

Gabriel’s body was shaking, oversensitive, and spent, but his smile was real now—soft, secret, sated.

Damian pressed a kiss to his shoulder, then his neck. "You never ask for more," he murmured, his voice hoarse. "Not like that."

Gabriel didn’t open his eyes. "Doesn’t mean I didn’t want it."

Damian wrapped his arms around him. Held him like something rare.

"You can have anything," he whispered.

Gabriel finally looked at him then—eyes darker than usual, but no less clear.

"I already do."