Chapter 470: The Usual Distraction

Inside the Crown Prince’s private study, the closed doors kept the noise of the palace corridor at bay. Morning light came through the tall arched windows, illuminating the spacious room and the curtains framing them.

Yet the atmosphere felt intensely charged, heavy with three days’ worth of built-up longing, unspoken words, and dangerous secrets that neither of them dared to lay bare.

Yerel didn’t waste a single second. The moment the brass latch clicked shut with a sharp, final sound, he wrapped his arms tightly around Philia’s waist, pulling him toward the long velvet couch situated near the hearth. Philia let himself be drawn in, his heart beating a frantic, uneven rhythm against his ribs as Yerel sank onto the plush cushions, attempting to pull Philia down beside him.

Yerel reached up, his fingers trailing upward toward Philia’s hair to pull him into a deeper, cradling embrace, his hand moving dangerously close to Philia’s temple.

Philia’s pulse spiked. He could feel the cool air against the tender skin beneath his bangs, the small scab hidden just out of sight. Recognizing the immediate danger of Yerel’s hands wandering anywhere near his hairline or neck, Philia took complete, decisive control of the moment before Yerel could finish the movement.

He shifted his weight rapidly, sliding onto Yerel’s lap and straddling his knees. He placed both of his gloved hands firmly against Yerel’s broad shoulders, pinning the Crown Prince back against the soft velvet cushions. The sudden, assertive move caught Yerel off guard, stopping his hand mid-air before it could reach Philia’s face.

Before Yerel could even register the sudden shift in power, Philia leaned down and pressed his lips directly against Yerel’s.

Yerel let out a soft, surprised hum against his mouth, his dark eyes widening for a fraction of a secon before he melted completely into the kiss. His hands, denied their original path, instinctively dropped down from Philia’s head and settled tightly around Philia’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest.

The kiss was deep, warm, and urgent. Philia guided the pace, pressing closer as he kissed Yerel more insistently, leaving him completely overwhelmed and breathless beneath him.

Inside Philia’s chest, his feelings pulled in two violent, opposing directions. Every time Yerel held him with such desperate, precious adoration, a genuine, undeniable warmth bloomed in his heart, a sweet, intoxicating flutter he couldn’t entirely suppress no matter how hard he tried.

He cared for Yerel. He genuinely did. The affection in Yerel’s touch was real, and in moments like this, Philia wanted nothing more than to lose himself in it.

Yet underneath that warmth, sheer survival instinct kept every nerve in his body on high alert. He was playing a dangerous game in this palace. Philia subtly adjusted his posture, keeping his hands anchored tightly on Yerel’s shoulders and upper chest, gently steering Yerel’s hands away whenever the prince tried to move them toward his chest. Every touch was careful, every movement meant to keep the faint marks of his secret encounters hidden.

When Philia finally pulled back, his lips were flushed and swollen, his breath coming in shallow, heavy hitches as he looked down at the Crown Prince. A thin strand of hair fell over Philia’s brow, and he quickly brushed it aside himself before Yerel could reach for it.

Yerel stared up at him, his eyes slightly dazed, heavy with affection, his hands gripping Philia’s waist like he was afraid Philia might vanish into thin air if he loosened his hold even a little. A breathless, completely enamored smile spread slowly across Yerel’s handsome face.

"You’re full of surprises today," Yerel whispered, his voice low, thick, and raspy with emotion. "I thought you were tired after coming back from the orphanage."

Philia allowed himself a quiet moment to catch his breath, resting his cheek briefly against the sturdy broadness of Yerel’s chest. He listened to the steady, strong thud of the prince’s heart before lifting his head once more. His mind, ever active beneath the smooth surface, pulled him back toward the subtle political moves happening across the imperial palace.

"Your Highness," Philia murmured, keeping his tone soft, casual, and intimate as he traced the golden embroidery along Yerel’s collar. "What about Lord Cherion?"

Yerel’s eyes blinked, the dazed warmth in his expression dimming slightly at the sudden sound of the name. "What about him?"

Philia looked up at Yerel, studying his expression for a moment before his fingers began tracing a small, gentle pattern over Yerel’s shoulder. "He came by the other day," he said. "Right around the time I was leaving for the orphanage."

The sudden shift in topic caused Yerel’s posture to stiffen slightly beneath him. The dazed, affectionate gaze cooled rapidly into something flat and dismissive, his jaw setting into that hard, stern line usually reserved for troublesome court councilors and unwanted petitioners in the grand hall.

Yerel let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening as he looked up at Philia. The warmth in his expression faded, replaced by a quiet displeasure as he studied the other man’s face.

"What about him?" Yerel repeated, his voice taking on a cold, flat edge that sent a tiny chill through the quiet room. He reached up, his large hands settling firmly back onto Philia’s hips, anchoring him in place on his lap. "Why are you asking about him right now?"

Philia kept his expression innocent, tilting his head slightly as though he had asked nothing more than a harmless question. He relaxed his shoulders, showing no sign of being bothered by Yerel’s sudden shift in mood. "I just wondered. Is it wrong?"

Yerel scoffed softly, a low, irritated sound in the back of his throat. He shifted on the couch, pulling Philia closer until there was no space left between them.

"I would appreciate it so much if, when it is just the two of us, we don’t talk about irrelevant third parties," Yerel said coldly, his voice dropping into a stern, possessive tone. He looked up into Philia’s eyes, his expression uncompromising. "He came with Duke Valtrane to discuss our treaty with Solaric. That has nothing to do with you or what we’re doing here. That’s all."

Philia paused, reading the sharp wall Yerel had instantly thrown up at the mere mention of Cherion’s name. There was a deeper tension there, something Yerel wasn’t saying, but Philia knew better than to push it further right now. Not when Yerel was this defensive, and certainly not when they were in such an intimate position.

"I see," Philia murmured softly, yielding without a single fight. He slid his fingers up to smooth down the front of Yerel’s collar, giving him a small, placating smile. "I was only curious."

Yerel’s expression softened again as he stared at Philia’s face, his dark eyes dropping back down to Philia’s flushed lips. The sharpness and irritation dissolved back into that dark, possessive warmth that always seemed to consume him whenever Philia was near.

"Come here," Yerel murmured, his voice thick and rough as his grip on Philia’s waist tightened, pulling him down an inch closer. "Gods, you have no idea how much I missed this over the last three days. Don’t waste our time on Cherion or anyone else."

Before Philia could offer another word, Yerel leaned up and captured his mouth again, cutting off any further questions about Cherion, the palace, or other affairs.

Philia let out a quiet, soft sigh against Yerel’s lips, letting his head tilt back as he yielded entirely to the motion. Well, Philia thought as Yerel’s hands tightened around him, feeling the heavy, steady thud of Yerel’s heart beating against his chest while the kiss deepened, it keeps going like that.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Yerel’s neck, leaning into the intoxicating warmth of the touch, burying his dangerous secrets beneath another long, silent embrace.

Philia wished, just for a moment, that things could stay this way. Just the two of them, without Cherion appearing in their conversations, their lives, or anywhere between them.