When the Villains Unite - Chapter 17: Promise (2) (M)

Last night, I clearly remembered falling asleep peacefully in his arms after a long, heartfelt conversation.

So why, first thing in the morning, was Damian lying beside me, pulling up my thin indoor dress beneath the covers and slipping his hands underneath?

If that was all it was, I might have dismissed it as some strange sleep habit. But no—his warm, wet tongue was carefully and persistently teasing my most sensitive area.

And it wasn’t the first time. This was the fourth morning in a row.

When I groggily woke up and looked down at him in shock, his expression was always the same: the guilty look of a child who knew he’d done something wrong but continued anyway. He didn’t stop, instead doubling down, diligently kissing and sucking that spot as if trying to atone for his sins in the most ridiculous way possible.

“Ahh… Why, so early in the morning… ngh!”

“…Because I’ve done a lot of things wrong?” Damian replied, his voice muffled.

“Don’t talk while you’re down there!”

The warm breath accompanying his words directly hit my most sensitive spot, sending a shiver up my spine as goosebumps rose across my skin. Despite my protest, his tongue persistently teased my clitoris, making my toes curl involuntarily.

As I gripped the blanket beside me, Damian glanced up briefly, then took both of my hands and gently placed them on his hair.

What… does he want me to pull his hair?

Before I could process the absurdity of the situation, the overwhelming sensation of pleasure coursing through my body drowned out any lingering confusion or embarrassment.

I froze, my hands resting on his soft hair but unmoving. I didn’t want to hurt him—his head didn’t deserve punishment, after all. Instead, I let myself succumb to the sticky, unrelenting pleasure spreading from where his tongue worked tirelessly against me.

The warmth of Damian’s breath against my skin only made my entire body feel hotter, as though I were being consumed by flames. The obscene, wet sounds coming from below were unmistakably from Damian’s relentless mouth.

Even without looking down, I could feel the slickness of my arousal pooling, spilling over with every teasing movement of his tongue.

Each time it happened, Damian glanced up at me with a sly, mischievous smile, his golden eyes locking with mine. Then, with deliberate slowness, he dragged his tongue up along my outer lips, making me shudder uncontrollably.

“Ahh… Damian!”

“Haa…”

As Damian’s warm breath brushed against my most sensitive spot, my body instinctively tensed, and I tried to close my legs. Of course, he didn’t let that happen.

With firm, calloused hands—evidence of his years of swordsmanship training—he kept my thighs apart. His tongue trailed teasingly along the inner skin of my leg, while his fingers, slick with a mix of saliva and arousal, began rubbing my swollen clitoris with maddening precision.

“Nngh… Damian, stop… please…” I whimpered, my voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and desperation.

“We’re not done yet, sis,” he murmured, his tone low and utterly unapologetic.

Has he completely lost his mind?

It wasn’t hard to understand what Damian meant by “we’re not done yet.”

For the past week, he had been sneaking under the covers early in the morning to lavish me with relentless attention, teasing and pleasuring me with maddening precision.

As the days passed, the number of times he brought me to the peak only increased. Having already climaxed once this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder: was he planning to push me two more times? Or perhaps three, given it was the fourth day of this routine?

Why is he so desperate to keep doing this?!

And yet, despite his obsessive focus on pleasuring me, he didn’t seem to have any intention of seeking release for himself. It was utterly baffling. Even now, the unmistakable bulge in his loose pajama pants strained against the fabric, yet he remained wholly fixated on me, ignoring his own arousal entirely.

What is going on in his head? Has he taken some vow of abstinence or something?!

“Ahhn! D-Demi… your hand, it’s too fast…!” I cried out, my voice breaking as his skilled fingers moved with increasing intensity.

“Hm…?” he hummed in response, as if feigning innocence.

“Haah… ahh! S-slower… just a bit… nghh, please!”

Damian completely ignored my plea for him to slow down, instead increasing the pace at which he rubbed against my sensitive spot.

His fingers, which had previously been moving widely to spread the slickness of my arousal, now focused entirely on my clitoris, applying unrelenting pressure.

The wet, obscene sounds grew louder and faster, and with every movement, my head tilted further back, my hips arching uncontrollably as if they had a mind of their own. My back arched so sharply it felt like I might break apart.

Finally, when the rough pads of his calloused fingers dragged over my clitoris with pinpoint precision, a violent shudder coursed through my body. My hips bucked wildly, and my chest, still hidden beneath the thin slip of my nightgown, trembled visibly from the force of my climax.

As my body tensed and my strength ebbed away, Damian grabbed my trembling hands.

“Ugh… ah…”

Even though my body was already overly sensitive, the warmth of his lips brushing against my palms sent another wave of heat surging through me. My oversensitive nerves reignited, making me feel as though my entire body was ablaze once more.

After Damian’s odd behavior over the past week, a new frustration had started building within me: he would never take things further. While his relentless attention left me utterly drained, he always stopped short of actual intercourse, leaving me feeling teased and unsatisfied.

Was this because of what happened a week ago? His body had already healed, and the tension between us had lessened—there was no longer any reason for him to hold back!

With hazy eyes, still clouded by arousal, I looked down at Damian, who was lightly kissing my palm. He seemed so composed, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

I made up my mind. Sitting upright, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him toward me, capturing his lips in a kiss.

“Mmh…!”

Damian’s eyes widened in surprise, clearly not expecting my sudden boldness. I tried to slip my tongue into his parted lips, but he gently pushed me back, breaking the kiss with a soft, teasing smack.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, his tone light and casual, as if nothing had just happened.

“What? Y-yeah, I did, but… more importantly—”

“It’s time for breakfast, sis. Should I bring something up for you?” he interrupted, his voice annoyingly calm.

“No, you don’t need to do that! Just… let’s finish what we were doing—”

“Great. Then go ahead and freshen up. I’ll have breakfast ready soon.”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Not only did Damian ignore my words, but he left the room before I could even finish speaking.

What is he trying to do here?

The realization hit me—there was an incredibly high chance that he was doing this every morning out of guilt for the injuries he caused me a week ago. Even though Belhark’s healing magic had already mended everything, Damian seemed stuck on the idea of making amends in this odd and frustrating way.

He lavished me with endless attention but refused to fulfill his own desires or take things further.

It was bafflingly predictable behavior, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of irony. The Damian from two weeks ago, the one I thought I couldn’t read, now seemed all too easy to understand.

But how long was I supposed to put up with this?

Something about his actions felt stubborn, like a wall that wouldn’t crumble on its own. Deep down, I had the unsettling feeling that time alone wasn’t going to fix this.

After finishing breakfast with a head full of thoughts, I found myself in Belhark’s office that afternoon.

Officially, he was still under suspension, but as the Empire’s financial minister, the Duke of Orca couldn’t simply stop managing state affairs without causing chaos. That said, the decision for him to work from home was likely influenced by the fact that whenever the Orca brothers weren’t on good terms, the palace tended to bear the brunt of their tension.

It seemed Cain’s message to resolve things within two months had been taken seriously.

From past experience, I knew my presence in Belhark’s office often distracted him from work. Still, I had sought him out for one reason: I had a proposal to make.

If not for recent events, we would have leisurely visited the Vidos estate for a vacation by now. But life rarely goes as planned, and our trip had all but fallen apart due to the complications that had arisen.

That said, canceling the trip entirely wasn’t an option. Considering the strained relationship between Belhark and Damian, a change of scenery seemed more necessary than ever. So I intended to suggest resuming our plans for the trip.

“Things are busy right now with the preparations for the royal wedding…” Belhark began, glancing at me.

“Oh, I see. Then I guess it can’t be helped,” I replied, disappointed.

“I might be able to go in a week, though. Would that work for you?”

Wait—he can go?

I had fully expected him to turn me down, so I was stunned to hear that he could squeeze a trip into his schedule. And the idea of preparing for the royal wedding in just one week was nothing short of astonishing.

Even for someone as competent as Belhark, the crown prince’s wedding was a monumental affair. Surely one week wasn’t enough time to handle it?

“Um… really?”

“I couldn’t care less about someone else’s wedding, but since it’s a royal wedding, I suppose I’ll pay some attention to it,” he said, brushing it off as though it were no big deal.

Only the Orca brothers would speak so casually about the crown prince’s marriage.

Despite his assurances, my expression must have betrayed some concern, as Belhark shot me a faint smirk and said, “If they’ve suspended me but still expect me to overwork, they’re the ones without a conscience.”

His perfectionism, however, gave me confidence that he would manage everything seamlessly, especially for the wedding of his close friend.

“Oh, one more thing,” I added cautiously.

“What is it?”

“I’m sleeping in Damian’s room tonight.”

At my words, Belhark set down the papers he was holding and stared at me intently. Without a word, he tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, amused smile that unmistakably said, Do you really think that’s going to happen?

“Why would you think that’s a good idea?” he asked, his voice calm but probing.

No matter how bold I tried to act, Belhark’s scrutiny had a way of rendering me speechless. But what could I possibly say? That Damian, as part of his so-called “atonement,” had been sneaking into my bed every morning and burying his head between my legs?

There was no way I could admit that.

Sweating under his gaze, I averted my eyes and awkwardly stood up, turning toward the door in a poor attempt to escape.

“It’s not fair that Damian gets special treatment when we’re all starving…”

Belhark’s voice, laced with irritation, echoed behind me as I gave him a playful smile and countered his remark.

“You can’t always be satisfied, can you, Your Grace?” I teased, the corners of my lips curling mischievously.

“Rose, are you really going to do this?”

He stood abruptly, as though intending to stop me, but I was quicker, slipping out of the room before he could catch me.

I didn’t hear him follow, likely because he knew better than to try and dissuade me when I was this determined. Or maybe—just maybe—he was plotting something more elaborate.

No, I reassured myself. Belhark wasn’t the type to stoop to such pettiness. Still, the faint unease creeping up my spine was hard to ignore.

It’s just my imagination, I told myself, shaking the feeling away.

*