Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 291 - 286: I win.

"This is the perfect time to be bullied. In bed. By you."

Gabriel let out a breath of quiet laughter, amused despite himself. "You think flattery will distract me?"

"No," Damian murmured, dipping forward to brush his lips against the corner of Gabriel’s jaw, "but I think touching you will."

Gabriel turned his head, slowly, until they were nose to nose. His breath fanned across Damian’s cheek, sharp and familiar.

"You’re sore."

"I can still move."

"Your ether channels are burned."

"And my instincts are intact," Damian replied, thumb brushing under the hem of Gabriel’s shirt. "Especially when my mate’s in bed, warm, and bossy."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You’re going to regret this when your back seizes and Marin finds out you tried to seduce me while technically under medical supervision."

Damian’s voice dipped lower. "Then help me forget the pain before that happens."

Gabriel rolled his eyes. "You are the worst patient I’ve ever had."

"I’m also your only one," Damian whispered, leaning in until their lips nearly touched. "And you love me."

Gabriel growled once—quiet, indulgent—and finally closed the distance, pressing a kiss to Damian’s mouth with all the warning of a lightning strike.

It didn’t matter that they were bruised. Or exhausted. Or covered in the aftermath of too much power and not enough peace.

The kiss deepened before either of them could pretend it hadn’t.

Damian’s mouth moved slowly, every inch of him ached, and he wanted to feel every second of Gabriel pressing back. His hands, still lined with raw, thunder-scored scars, trembled slightly at Gabriel’s waist as he gripped him tighter, thumbs stroking over bare skin with reverence more than heat.

Instead, he leaned in, one hand rising to cup the side of Damian’s face, thumb brushing just beneath his eye like he was committing every detail to memory. His breath hitched once, caught between affection and fury, the kind born of watching someone you love willingly burn.

"You’re an idiot," he whispered against Damian’s lips. "A beautiful, arrogant, ether-scorched idiot."

"I try," Damian murmured, voice roughened by pain and something far more vulnerable.

Their foreheads touched, the air between them charged.

Gabriel’s fingers slid into Damian’s hair, slow and careful, as if anchoring them both. "Next time you try to sacrifice your soul, you ask me first."

Damian’s mouth curved into a tired smile. "Would you have said yes?"

"No," Gabriel breathed, brushing their lips together again. "I would have seduced you; it seems the only thing that can take away your mind from doing something reckless."

Damian huffed a low laugh, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes but curled warm at the corners of his mouth. "Then I’m doomed. You’re too good at that."

Gabriel pulled back just enough to look at him—really look at him. The glow in Damian’s skin had dulled, but the damage lingered: the faint shimmer of ether burns lacing his forearms, the lingering tremble in his hands, and the exhaustion bleeding through the proud set of his shoulders.

Gabriel shifted his position and straddled Damian with grace. Damian put his hands on his hips, slowly dragging them along the still flat belly of Gabriel.

Damian’s touch was reverent—like prayer whispered in a language only they spoke. His scarred thumbs traced slow, anchoring circles just below Gabriel’s navel, as if reminding himself that this was why he’d done it. They were why.

"I’ll be fine," Damian said, quieter now. "I’ve survived worse, but I can use some distraction." His touch hardened, pulling Gabriel closer to his chest, he could feel the hard member under him.

"You..."

"Yes?" Damian asked, tracing Gabriel’s jaw with his lips. His breathing sent shivers down Gabriel’s spine. The alpha pheromones started to fill the room.

"You—" Gabriel started again, but the word dissolved into a breath when Damian’s teeth grazed his jawline, slow and careful, like a man relearning a territory he already owned. "You’re supposed to be resting."

"I am," Damian murmured, voice low, hot against his skin. "This is just... assisted recovery."

Gabriel groaned, not from pleasure—yet—but from sheer disbelief as he braced his hands on Damian’s shoulders. "You burned through your ether channels. You glowed. There were sparks in the walls."

"There are still sparks in the walls," Damian whispered, pressing a kiss behind Gabriel’s ear. "But that’s not important right now."

His hands moved again, fingers dragging over the dip of Gabriel’s spine and lower, heat and possessiveness rolling off him in slow, potent waves. The pheromones weren’t demanding—yet—but they were rich, layered with the familiar pull of mating heat and something darker. Need. Not rut, not this time—but still primal.

Gabriel’s breath caught, his body already reacting, warmth pooling low and fast in his stomach. "Damian, if you so much as pass out halfway through—"

"I won’t," Damian promised, his voice dipped in that calm, devastating certainty. "Because I’m not letting you off of me long enough to try."

Gabriel stared down at him, flushed and furious and already melting. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re in my lap." Damian’s smirk returned—slow, sinful, and far too smug for someone who still had ether-scored scars climbing his arms. "So by definition, I win."

Gabriel shifted deliberately, rolling his hips in a slow, teasing grind that pulled a sharp inhale from Damian’s throat. The friction alone—warm and measured, too calm to be innocent—sent a jolt of white-hot pleasure through Damian’s spine, his body still too raw, too wired from the aftermath of the ether burn.

Gabriel felt it—the way Damian’s grip on his waist tightened, how his head tipped back slightly, jaw clenching to keep from groaning aloud. Good. Let him try to keep control.

"You alright?" Gabriel asked, feigning sweetness, fingers trailing lightly over Damian’s shoulder, over the scars that hadn’t yet faded.

Damian’s eyes snapped back to him, golden and darkening, already breathless. "You’re a menace."

"You did say you needed distraction."

And Gabriel gave it to him.

He rocked again—slow, deliberate, grinding down against Damian with infuriating rhythm, unhurried and purposeful. Each motion sent heat coiling tighter in Damian’s gut, his fingers trembling against Gabriel’s skin as he fought the urge to thrust up, to take control.

But Gabriel wasn’t giving it. Not this time.

His hands found Damian’s chest, nails raking gently, lips brushing over his neck with a maddening combination of reverence and cruelty. Every roll of his hips dragged another curse from Damian’s throat—less composed now, more desperate.

"Still think I can’t seduce you out of martyrdom?" Gabriel whispered, biting softly just beneath Damian’s ear.

Damian groaned—deep, guttural—his control crumbling as Gabriel rode him slow and steady, forcing him to feel every inch, every second, every shiver of overstimulated nerve endings.

"Gabriel—" Damian warned, breath shaky, eyes squeezed shut. "I—"

"I know," Gabriel murmured, and didn’t stop. His pace never changed. He wanted it like this—slow, personal, with Damian undone first for once, wrecked and ruined before he could recover enough to play the Emperor again.

And then it happened.

Damian’s whole body tensed beneath him, hands gripping too tight, head buried against Gabriel’s shoulder as the pleasure crested—overwhelming, unrestrained—and he came, sharp and messy and involuntary. His hips jerked up with the force of it, a broken sound tore from his throat as he clung to Gabriel like a lifeline.

Gabriel smiled, smug, dangerous, and beautiful, whispering against his skin:

"I win."