Side Story 1.4

The kiss, which began with a tentative lick, didn’t last long. Still embracing Danielle, Cyril checked the terrace outside, sighed, and leaned against the railing.

“Sometimes… no, often, I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

“The one who’s truly incomprehensible is you, Sir Cyril Frey.”

“I…”

“If we grab about a hundred passersby and ask them, I’d wager they’d say I’m easier to understand than you, Cyril Frey.”

Well, even so, I think I’d win… 

Cyril thought but didn’t say it. Instead, he slowly ran his hand down Danielle’s back to her waist.

Whenever the desire to hold her surged, Cyril suffered alone in self-reproach. When she casually mentioned whether such an engagement was natural, Cyril felt wounded but couldn’t immediately refute her. It was ironic that this remark came after they kissed and touched each other. Danielle was always proactive in their intimate moments, but looking back, it was clear that he was the one who demanded more.

Was it because they were engaged, or because they were about to marry, that it felt natural to intertwine their bodies?

Every time he desired Danielle’s lips, arms, and the deepest parts of her, doubt about his own feelings arose. Marquis Odillon, who had served for years in the family court, once said that the most commonly accepted evidence of “irreparable love” was pregnancy. Then, on what grounds could Cyril Frey’s “irreparable love,” which wasn’t aimed at producing heirs, stand?

But as Danielle clung to him again, there was no time for such useless thoughts. Cyril accepted Danielle, who was intent on overpowering him, and asked:

“What do you even like about me?”

“I don’t know.”

Danielle kissed him, drawing a line from his chin to the corner of his lips. At the end of the kiss, she whispered:

“Is it because I make you anxious?”

This was too much. There couldn’t be a worse taste than this. Unable to suppress his rising resentment, Cyril accepted Danielle and kissed her again. Her slightly chapped lips, perhaps from working late into the night, scratched him gently. As their lips met repeatedly, inside and out, Cyril eventually let out a faint m*an first. Danielle bit his lip and urged him.

“I can see it in your eyes—you’re overthinking. Just hold me.”

“Danielle, I…”

“You said you love me enough to want to marry me, didn’t you?”

Danielle looked a little anxious. She urged him again, her lips, now glossy from the brief kiss, parting as she tightly gripped Cyril’s collar with both hands.

“I love you. Kiss me.”

Ah.

Danielle Odillon, so incredibly dishonest.

What she wanted to say right now wasn’t “I love you.” Whether or not it was sincere didn’t matter at this moment.

Danielle Odillon was feeling anxious because of Cyril Frey.

It felt as though his mind was being scorched. He couldn’t hesitate any longer. Cyril lifted Danielle into his arms and kissed her. She threw herself into him with a m*an, clinging to him completely. When she opened her lips and entwined her tongue with his first, Cyril teased her delicately. When he licked and bit the most sensitive spots he knew of, Danielle swallowed her breath hurriedly inside his mouth. Cyril adjusted the angle and kissed her even deeper.

“Mm, Cyril…”

“Should we… go to a room?”

“No, just a little more… ah…”

Danielle grabbed his collar, then cupped his cheek, pulling him downward until Cyril leaned into her. Her soft chest pressed against him through her dress.

She’s doing this on purpose… 

Cyril let out a troubled sigh as his disheveled clothing began to bother him. Danielle, who eagerly caught his sigh, finally smiled brightly. It was a smile befitting the young lady cherished as the spring of the capital in this mansion. Cyril blinked, momentarily forgetting the season. It felt as though spring had arrived early, just on this terrace.

And at that moment, Danielle had a mischievous thought.

“Should I lift my skirt?”

“What?”

The truly worst thought was:

“Right here.”

This year’s ball gown trend featured dresses with minimal petticoats and moderate widths. It was an unexpected trend born from the southern preferences of Annemarie Ingram, who had taken last year’s social season by storm, combined with the practical tastes of Cléran Roigar, who preferred comfort above all else.

Some grumbled that there was no longer much difference between ball gowns and casual wear, but once simplified, the attire hardly reverted to its previous opulence. With spring’s arrival, young women draped in thinner fabrics fluttered gracefully across the ballroom.

Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the terrace, hidden behind tightly drawn curtains, a pair of mischievous individuals were taking advantage of the situation in their own way.

“Ah, mm, uh, Cyril,”

“Take off your shoes, Danielle.”

Cyril, who had wrapped his arms around Danielle’s waist from behind, lifted her feet one by one with the hand that had crept beneath her skirt. Though the dress was now relatively comfortable compared to traditional attire, her delicate shoes, still far from the sturdiness of her usual boots, fell to the floor with soft thuds, rolling aside.

Danielle, now standing barefoot on the cold ground in her stockings, clutched the railing with both hands, breathing heavily. Her stomach tightened as it pressed against the railing once and her forearms twice. Cyril brushed her hair aside, teasing the nape of her neck near her ear.

“Be careful. You can’t fall…”

“You… mm, where did you… ah, learn this… ah!”

“Do you want to know?”

“No, mm, ah, uh, wait, my voice… mm!”

Feeling his hand loosening slightly around her waist, Danielle turned her head. What appeared before her was a handkerchief, one she recognized all too well. 

This can’t be…

“…Isn’t this the one I gave you during the first tournament sparring match?”

“Bite it.”

“You… still kept this… mmph!”

The crumpled handkerchief was half-pushed into her open mouth. Danielle, unable to protest, bit down on it to stifle her m*ans. Cyril, kissing her ear, lifted her skirt further and began to press himself against her. His voice, already tinged with heat, whispered lowly. One arm held her waist even more tightly than before, while the other pushed aside her undergarments, pressing against her most sensitive spot.

“I still have the one you gave me at the knighting ceremony, too.”

“Mm, mmph… mm, mmph!”

There was nothing tying her down. She was the one who had suggested this mischievous act on the terrace. Yet, with her mouth covered and her body embraced from behind, she felt utterly restrained, unable to move as she pleased. Danielle couldn’t shake the sense that she was utterly losing this battle. Of course, that thought was soon swept away by the sensations that overwhelmed her.

“Mm, ah, mm, mmph…”

“Ha, Danielle, Danielle, mm, mmph.”

Cyril pulled her waist closer, lifting her heels off the ground as he entered her at once. Danielle gripped the railing tightly, her toes curling with the effort. Her calves trembled as if they were floating.

It was her first time embracing someone outdoors without a roof overhead, and her first time being embraced from behind. Despite the lack of much f*replay, her body accepted Cyril without resistance. His fingers continued to torment her sensitive spots between her thighs, pressing and teasing areas that would normally rub together when they faced each other.

The hastily gathered fabric of her dress tangled between their bodies, hindering their movements. Cyril let out a frustrated groan and lifted Danielle’s skirt nearly to her waist. The sudden rush of cold air made Danielle scream into the handkerchief.

“Mm, mmph, s-stop, mmph!”

“Mm, Danielle, just a little more…”

The sensation of the man pressed against her backside was unfamiliar. The feeling of him invading and delving deeper from behind was strange. Danielle focused all her strength on her waist to avoid falling, enduring Cyril’s relentless movements. Her tightened inner walls seemed to trap him, as if refusing to let go, making Cyril groan behind her.

“Mm, Danielle, I didn’t… use anything this time, so… mm…”

“Mm, mmph, ah… Cyril, it’s fine, just… to the end… ah!”

If we’re going to talk, shouldn’t you remove what’s covering my mouth? 

Danielle, unable to bear it, removed the handkerchief herself and screamed again as Cyril thr*st deeply. 

This is insane! 

Even as she told herself to stop, her body moved earnestly to meet his. She grabbed his arm, trying to pull it away, but Cyril’s hot breath spilled down her neck as he suppressed his release. Their trembling bodies remained entwined. Ah, mm. Biting her lip to stifle her m*ans, Danielle spoke, her words coming out in fragments.

“Today… I took… mm, took the pill…”

“…Danielle?”

Danielle turned in his loosened embrace. Looking directly into his gray eyes, clouded with passion, she brushed aside his disheveled hair. Stroking his sweat-dampened cheek, she confessed.

“I thought… something like this might happen today… mm!”

Cyril couldn’t hold back any longer. Instead of the handkerchief, his lips now silenced her m*ans directly. He pushed Danielle onto the railing and drove his nearly uncontrollable desire back into her. Under the dark sky, dark-colored fabric rustled noisily. 

Ah, mm, mmph, mmph. 

Amidst it all, the wet sounds of their union spread intimately.

The man’s arms tightened around the woman as if to swallow her whole. Beneath the crumpled hem of her dress, the woman’s legs stretched out and trembled. Even when the two hastily moved to the bedroom and finally stopped holding back, the lingering waves of their cl*max did not fade.

***

“Lawrence once told me something before.”

“Senior Weiss did?”

Danielle traced her fingers lazily over Cyril’s bare chest, still damp with sweat, as she smiled languidly. 

What exactly had my senior said? Let’s see…

“Something about how people should live with proper restraint depending on the time and place.”

She omitted the inappropriate part about being n*ked with one’s wife, but the main point was clear enough. As Cyril burst into laughter, his chest heaved noticeably a couple of times. Grasping her teasing fingers, he pulled her hand elsewhere as he whispered softly.

“Then we’ve completely failed.”

“You’re not even human, really.”

“This is all your fault, Danielle.”

The hand he had pulled was placed somewhere rather peculiar. 

Oh, is that how it’s going to be? 

As she began to playfully torment him, Cyril let out another groan. Yet, the smile on his face remained.

“But if anyone asks, I’ll let them think it was my fault.”

“Do you think anyone will come looking for us?”

“They’ll just assume things like this happen on terraces.”

“Would they have imagined anything to this extent?”

The two exchanged glances before bursting into laughter, their bodies drawing close again. Even if they were teased for being obnoxious or criticized for lacking restraint, as long as they were in each other’s arms, none of it mattered. Likely today, and undoubtedly in the days to come.

Their once long and tumultuous engagement was finally at peace.