A Gorgeous White

Emlen furrowed his brows. Although he was reluctant to speak about the man, he could not derive Moulin from his curiosity, and hopelessly, happiness. Furthermore, it felt strange to hear his little brother address the lord... informally.

It felt as if he'd be accepting the other as a brother-in-law soon. Emlen swallowed. His face darkened. Honesty, he was too reluctant to accept.

Returning the thick book within his hands, he sighed and replied. "The Kron has reached the island, and within three days, the swarm will return. There are still two soul fragments left to find for the Great Tree's recovery. But it is unlikely that the mages will be able to find their locations before the Swarm invades. Lord Hercullio... has neither returned to his quarters nor the maeruthan's courtyard. Perhaps, the King dragged him away to aid in fixing the rising concerns within the island. After the invasion, he-"

Emlen paused, finding it difficult to describe the spine-chilling memory in his mind. That daunting gaze, oozing with every bit of danger. Wielding a sword, gleaming like a black diamond and dripping with the blood of his enemies. Intentionally, exposing his dominant mana to lure the malibreed beneath the glinting edge of his sword. He dyed the earth and the air black, swinging his forbidding blade ruthlessly. The scene spooked everyone who saw him. Even Emlen wasn't an exception.

"He?" Moulin pressed, tilting his head.

Emlen blinked. He smiled and shook his head. "He... He's fine. There is nothing that you should worry about. Eat and Rest." He rose from his seat. "Let's have a meal together when I come back."

"Okay..." Moulin nodded as he lowered his gaze. He watched his fingers dig into the hard cover of the book—nails creating slight dents on the surface.

The bedroom doors closed, and an oppressive silence slowly crept into the canopy bed. The rustling leaves and the whistling breeze beyond his windows could not reach his ears. It seems like nothing could. Slowly, slender fingers caressed his right forearm, stroking the part where the bone broke. Although the healer had mended it, the pain lingered like needles prickling holes all over his skin. A slow sigh unhurriedly left his lips.

Moulin leaned back against the pillows, clutching his arm in the silence. Long wavy hair settled gently against the soft fabric. His lashes cast shadows as his eyelids lowered slightly. Eyes focused on nothing. All he had were his thoughts. They were all that seemed noisy within the room.

When he recalled those blood-red eyes, frightfully gazing at him as though leering at his soul, he could not help but shudder. Slowly, he started to piece the visions he had before and those that came to him recently. Those demons who sought him and mentions of a sacrifice of a world renewed.

A sacrifice...

Silver eyes slightly opened. No matter how much he thought about it, it was too unconvincing... However, what wasn't odd in this strange world? Even he came back from the dead. Revival wasn't impossible, but there is always... a cost. He believed there was a reason why he was brought to this world, but it was so well hidden that he couldn't determine it. But slowly... there were traces and hints.

Alha... that demon's name. He was there, chasing him until his death. He was also there when his family's estate fell. He's like a shadow, hunting him down. However, Moulin hasn't seen him ever since his revival. Before Moulin realized, he was always traced easily. But now...

Moulin's eyes slightly narrowed. Perhaps, he'd forgotten me and changed targets? However, is eight years too long for a demon?... I don't even know anything about those kinds of creatures.

All of a sudden, Moulin stopped. A familiar presence entered the room.

Moulin abruptly rose from the bed. The first thing those expectant silver eyes saw was the tall stance of the man opening the door and stepping into the room. Lord Hercullio lifted his cool gaze. When Moulin's eyes met Hadrian's, his heart jumped within the cage of his chest. Hadrian loosened the tie around his neck, removing the suffocating thing and tossing it on the large chest at the foot of the canopy bed.

Moulin swallowed. He forced himself to remain calm and spoke slowly as the man approached. "Hadrian... you're here."

The man's heavy footsteps stopped. With an unreadable face, Hadrian looked at Moulin. His eyes intently stared at the white bandages beneath the youth's translucent silky sleeve. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Does it still hurt?"

'Ah.' Moulin blinked and glanced at his arm, "No. It... doesn't hurt anymore."

Deep golden eyes narrowed slightly. They gleamed like a sunset's golden touch on a daisy's innocent petal. His eyes held the fragility of a youth's soul as well as the menacing glare of a warrior honed from a thousand battles. After a minute of silence and deep staring, a sigh left the lord's lips.

Moulin furrowed his brows, "Are... you tired?"

Hadrian lifted his gaze, and slowly, his feet moved, shortening the distance between him and the youth worriedly gazing at him with those captivating silver eyes. He sat on the bed, the mattress dipping heavily, and Hadrian reached out, tucking the strand of white hair behind the delicate curve of the youth's ear. Moulin leaned against his touch, missing the feel of it. There was the scent of soap from the man's clothes. A freshness, evident from his frame despite the darkness surrounding the man.

It seemed he washed before coming here...

"They've worn you out." Moulin mumbled, sensing the weariness emanating from the man in front of him. "Did they give you too much work?"

At last, a corner of the lord's lips lifted. "No one can tire me as much as you do."

These words made Moulin flinch, but Hadrian continued. His voice is slow, as if he was confessing his sins. A sudden tightness abruptly grasps Moulin's chest.

"It was a mistake allowing you to join the search away from the island." Hadrian's gaze dimmed. A bit of regret glazed his pupils. "If I had been late for even a minute, I could've lost you. And now you've returned injured. It was my error..."

"None of this is your fault." Moulin's forehead creased. He couldn't bear to have Hadrian regretting the events that had happened. He slowly lowered his head and rested on the man's firm chest. "The invasion was unexpected. It was a coincidence that they came while we were out to complete the task. And perhaps... I was a bit reckless."

"You are brave..." Moulin heard Hadrian say.

"I am indeed careless... don't deny it. Even I, myself, am admitting it." Moulin spoke in a low tone.

"Mn..."

Mn? Moulin paused.

"But no one would have stayed behind like what you've done." Hadrian's eyes softened as he brought his hand to stroke the smooth, silky hair of the young man leaning on him. "It was courageous of you... but it was also dangerous..."

Moulin buried his head. His voice is muffled. "I've worried you..."

"You always do. However, nothing is more beautiful than to have you run free without the restraints of the world." Hadrian's eyes deepened. "What I desire is nothing but your happiness."

There was a taste of sweetness on Moulin's tongue. He couldn't help but smile. He never thought such cheezy words would make his heart melt with warmth. Oh, honestly...

Hadrian could feel the joy emitted by the aphrodite in his embrace. He could not resist feeling happy too. However, a thought flitted within his mind, and his expression dimmed slightly.

"That creature... do you know him?"

Moulin froze. 'Creature...'

In a second, the youth immediately realized who Hadrian was referring to.

Slowly, Moulin raised his gaze, but he did not move away from the man's embrace. The once bright gleam within his eyes dimmed, and a wave of cautiousness came to overwhelm him. "He is... Uldehr. I don't know anything else."

Hadrian glanced at Moulin's injured arm, and his voice darkened. "He's using a creature as his vessel and deliver his words."

"I've heard him once." Moulin furrowed his brows. His fingers fisted the clean white sheets. "... in my sleep."

"The nightmares."

Moulin nodded, sighing. "Yes..."

A dark glint flashed in Hadrian's eyes. Moulin could hardly discern Hadrian's thoughts anymore. The more his expression darkened, the more Moulin was worried. Ah, why was he troubling Hadrian with this? Clearly, the man was already exhausted. Both of them haven't had even a wink of sleep.

"We'll discuss this later. You need rest. I refuse to talk until you do." Moulin chided, gently patting the man's muscular chest. He could feel the heated muscles beneath the layer of cloth.

Hadrian's tight face loosened from the man's words. Moulin heaved a sigh, feeling the tension ease beneath his palms.

He lowered his head to meet Moulin's gaze. Their eyes clashed, arousing fiery fire within their hearts. Moulin didn't even need to wait as the lord's mouth descended to claim his parted lips.

"Mnh..."

A faint whimper slipped out from Moulin's mouth as he angled his head, receiving the tongue tentatively sliding against his own. He parted his lips even more as the gentle stroking hand behind his head turned rougher, pulling him closer with a fist of silvery-white strands. Their souls thrummed deliciously, and Moulin felt as if he could rest within the bubble of their heat forever.

Moulin's hand snaked around Hadrian's nape, pulling him closer. The kiss was rough and deep as though he could feel his soul being sucked out and his heart drumming enthusiastically, on the verge of exploding. He closed his squirming thighs and yelped when a strong arm suddenly grabbed his waist, lifting him slightly to sit atop the man's firm lap.

"Hadrian-"

Barely couldn't even utter a single word, Moulin was silenced once more, separating his thighs as to straddle Hadrian's lap. His flesh tingled with the strength beneath him, fueling the flame of arousal burning under his navel. Moulin panted between the kiss. He bent his head, taking the man's head between his hands as he became more and more proactive.

He loved every moment with Hadrian. His mouth was addicting, and Moulin felt nothing more would complete him.

As Hadrian bit, pulling the flesh of his lower lip enticingly, his eyes burned with arousal. Moulin's thigh trembled when his large hand crept down the curve of the youth's perky bottom, pressing against the bundle of muscle against the loose fabric. Elven clothing against his lover's skin looked so soft and tempting. However, Hadrian couldn't care less if they'd be ripped into pieces.

A soft moan slipped out from Moulin's lips.

Crash!

Moulin froze, and his eyes widened. He tore away from Hadrian and turned his head towards the doorway where a certain brother was standing, eyes burning with restrained fury and shock.

On the floor was a glass pitcher. Emlen looked as if he'd faint at the next second.

"B-Brother!" Moulin abruptly removed himself from Hadrian's lap.

Disappointed from the emptiness against his body Hadrian lazily shifted his attention to the man intruding the room.

Emlen seethed. He raised a hand and pointed at the indifferent golden-eyed man taking advantage of his precious unwell brother. His thoughts roared in his brain, and his voice sounded as if he would kill the first person near him.

"You.. OUT."