“In his own way, he appreciates you.”

“…”

“Although… I don’t understand.”

Cyrene blinked in surprise. She had never thought of Areos as someone who valued or appreciated her. To her she was just an object.

Lovely, beautiful and nothing more than an ornament.

If that were true, he wouldn’t have forced her to give herself to other men, no matter how much she cried or begged him not to. He wouldn’t have drugged her and given her away to countless others. Cyrene shook her head.

“…Maybe even His Highness himself doesn’t believe he loves you.”

Of course not. He doesn’t love me at all.

Cyrene pushed Ilion’s hand away. The very idea of being loved was absurd. And his words about being kind didn’t make sense to her either.

“I will treat you kindly.”

“What does ‘kind’ even mean?”

Does it mean stroking her hair? A gentle caress on her cheek? Run a hand down her back?

Cyrene leaned forward and stared at him intently.

“It means making you smile.”

“How?”

The more she talked to him, the more questions she had. No one in her life had ever satisfied her curiosity, so she was fascinated by everything. She wanted to know about Ilion, about the meaning behind every word he said.

“I’m not sure. How would I make you smile?”

Smiling was easy. Areos always managed to make her smile.

“Just give an order.”

“…”

Cyrene smiled at him, but instead of the reaction she had hoped for, Ilion’s face contorted in discomfort. Feeling uncomfortable, she let her smile fade. What a difficult man he was. Everything Areos seemed to enjoy, Ilion reacted to in exactly the opposite way.

“Does His Highness always do this?”

“Yes.”

When told to smile, she smiled. When told to cry, she cried. At Cyrene’s simple answer, Ilion’s expression changed again into something strange. Without warning, he stood abruptly.

“Are you leaving?”

“Let us meet again, Cyrene.”

When she grabbed his sleeve, he leaned down and kissed her forehead lightly before pulling away quickly. The spot where his lips had touched felt ticklish and Cyrene wondered what it would feel like when he touched her during s*x. Every place he touched left a lingering sensation that made her even more curious.

A subtle excitement settled in her stomach. Ilion released her hand gently and took a step back. She rubbed her forehead vigorously, as if to wipe away the lingering sensation. But the tickling sensation seemed to spread, reaching her chest.

***

“Cyrene.”

Cyrene looked up at the sound of Areos’ voice. His hand reached out and gently lifted her chin. His thumb trailed slowly over her lips before sliding between them, gently parting them. 

“What happened today?”

Cyrene shook her head, trying to remember if anything unusual had happened that day. Areos pulled her closer and sat her on his lap as he usually did. Cyrene tilted her head curiously, wondering why he was asking about her day.

When it came to her everyday life, Areos often knew more than she did. So why did he ask?

“You met the Marquis of Laska today, didn’t you?”

The Marquis of Laska?

Cyrene thought for a moment and suddenly remembered the word ‘Marquis’ from something Ilion had mentioned in passing.

“Ilion?”

“…The Marquis of Laska.”

Areos corrected her. His face darkened. His grip on her jaw tightened, sending a sharp pain through her chin. 

“L-Laska Marquis.”

Was that what she was supposed to call him? 

Her voice trembled slightly. Areos’ eyebrows twitched, his displeasure clear on his face. 

“What did he say to you?”

“…”

She couldn’t even guess what kind of answer he was expecting. Sometimes he questioned her relentlessly about the positions she had been in or the acts she had performed with other men. But there had been no s*x with Ilion, not even a kiss. She had no idea how to answer. 

“Did meeting the Marquis make you happy?” 

His grip tightened as he pulled her hair roughly. At that moment, the memory of Ilion gently twirling her hair around his fingers and planting a soft kiss on it flashed through her mind. 

“Ugh.”

Areo’s lips parted as he leaned in for a deep kiss. His teeth bit down hard on her trembling tongue, sending shivers through her body. Her entire frame shook under his intense movements.

“Hnnngh, ah…”

The sound of ripping fabric echoed through the room. The dress Ilion had taken such care to keep clean was now useless, its tattered remains sliding to the floor. Her hardened n*pples protruded through the thin chemise.

“Mmm, ugh…”

Cyrene gasped heavily as Areos, who had bitten her little tongue until it hurt, spread her legs. Without his usual habit of inspecting between her thighs, he thrust his hardened p*nis directly into her.

“Ahh!”

Her slightly wet walls tightened abruptly around the sudden intrusion. When Areos finally pulled his lips away, a faint taste of blood remained. Her tongue was numb and sore.

“You like the Marquis that much?”

“Ugh, ah…!”

The movements were harsher than ever. Her back hit the table directly, the pens and decorative objects scattered across its surface digging painfully into her skin.

The sound of flesh against flesh echoed sharply, louder and more violent than the usual wet, sticky sounds. The creaking of the table joined the cacophony.

“Your Highness, ugh, ugh…!”

“Cyrene.”

The sensation of him forcing her insides open so roughly caused a moan to escape her lips, even as her entire body ached from the intensity.

“Hmmm, ahh…”

She couldn’t understand why he was so angry. He never seemed to mind when she slept with other men, but now he was furious because she hadn’t.

“It hurts, ahh, ugh…!”

Cyrene gasped and struggled, her body writhing under the abrasive sensation of her back scraping against the table. Her skin throbbed with pain and Areos’ expression changed to something unreadable. Suddenly, he pulled her arms roughly, forcing her to straddle him.

“Ugh…!”

Her trembling body was lifted onto his, shaking as he gripped her neck tightly and kissed her again, fiercely. The overwhelming sensations from above and below confused her mind. The roughest s*x she’d ever experienced made her whole body ache.

“Ughh, hmm, ah…”

Cyrene’s hands clung desperately to Areo’s clothing. Every time her body was thrust up and down it felt like fireworks exploding in her mind. The deep, penetrating sensation caused her inner walls to tighten instinctively.

Despite the harshness of it all, the mere fact that it was Areos made her body react without hesitation. The area that had been raw and burning began to make wet, sticky sounds as it became slicker.

“Haah, ahh… hmm…”

The hands that had been gripping her back roughly began to move more leisurely, stroking her skin with a gentler touch. Areos, who had been holding her neck tightly, loosened his grip and stroked it lightly, his kiss growing tender but persistent.

Cyrene shivered involuntarily with every movement of her body. As her slick walls welcomed him more easily, the burning heat inside her grew, a deep pain spreading through her lower abdomen. Panting heavily, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“Ugh, hmm…”

Pleasure seeped into every part of her. Every time her hips rocked against Areo’s chest, the wet, sticky sounds of her movements filled the air.

He stroked her hair repeatedly and planted countless kisses on her cheeks, forehead and nose. In between these gestures, he whispered roughly, his voice deep and possessive.

“I’m the only one you’re allowed to love.”

“Ahh…!”

The sensation of him pressing hard against her hypersensitive inner walls sent tremors through her entire body. The pleasure radiated down to her toes, engulfing her completely. Whatever he had just said was instantly lost in the overwhelming sensations that took over her mind.

“Hmm, ugh…!”

The relentless thrusts of his hardened p*nis against her tightening hole brought waves of both familiar and unfamiliar pleasure. Cyrene’s hands clawed at his back repeatedly, leaving red marks on his skin.

“Haah…”

He pulled her into an embrace so tight it felt like her body might break. Even the breaths she took felt like they belonged to Areos, as did every corner of her body, deep inside and out. As always.

Cyrene clung to him with everything she had. Her world still revolved around Areos.

***

“Are you hurt?”

Ilios’ restrained voice brushed against her ear. As he carefully brushed her hair aside, exposing her shoulder, his hand rested lightly on her bare back.

The areas that had been scraped against the table throbbed with pain. She couldn’t remember if the scratches had come from a pen or something else – everything had been thrown to the floor in the chaos.

“It hurts.”

“…”

Ilion said nothing, but his gaze lingered on the marks as his fingers hovered cautiously near her skin.

At her admission of pain, Ilion sighed instead of answering. His fingers stroked gently down her back, circling the edges of her wounds with a tenderness that made her skin tingle.