Free Web NovelMatt opened his eyes and the first thing he felt was heat.
A lot of heat.
A heat that wrapped around him completely, covering his chest, his arms, his legs, his back.
A heat that didn't come from a sheet or a blanket or any fabric.
It came from a body.
Matt blinked. The room was dark. Moonlight came in through a tall, narrow window on the left, but it didn't light much. Just enough to make out shapes, and the shape on top of him was the queen.
Elyra had him in her arms.
Both of her arms wrapped around his torso. Her hands crossed behind his back, and her legs were tangled with his.
Elyra's head rested on Matt's chest, her long hair spilling across the sheets.
Elyra was asleep, her breathing slow, deep, and rhythmic.
Matt didn't move.
Not right away.
He stayed there, still, looking at the ceiling with his eyes open, processing the situation.
'So I'm in her room...'
That was the first thing.
The second was the smell.
The queen's smell.
It was sweet. Too sweet, but not pleasant to Matt. The smell filled his nose. Coated his tongue. He could feel it in his throat.
Matt's face twisted.
'I need to get out of here...'
He tried to move his right arm.
It didn't move.
The queen's grip was firm. Her arms were crossed behind his back, her forearms pressing into his sides.
It wasn't a soft embrace.
It wasn't an affectionate embrace.
It was an embrace with no intention of letting go.
Matt tried the left arm.
Same thing.
His legs.
Same thing.
The queen's entire body was pressed against his. Every part of her touched some part of him. There was no space between them. No gap. No way to move anything without moving her too.
'If I struggle, this bitch is going to wake up...'
Matt didn't want that.
Didn't want the queen to wake up.
Didn't want to have a conversation with her.
Didn't want to be in this room.
And especially didn't want to be embraced by her like this.
Matt breathed through his mouth so he wouldn't smell the sweetness as much. Then, carefully, he began sliding his body downward. If he could get low enough, maybe he could slip out from under her arms.
The grip was at chest height. If he went down until her arms ended up over his shoulders instead of his back, he could duck his head under and get out.
Matt moved a centimeter.
The queen's arms adjusted.
Matt stopped.
It wasn't a deliberate adjustment.
It was a reflex.
The queen's arms tightened slightly, closing the gap Matt had gained.
Matt gritted his teeth.
He tried again.
He slid two centimeters down, but her arms readjusted again. freewebnσvel.cѳm
'It's impossible.'
The queen's grip was absolute.
Even asleep, her body responded to the smallest change in position.
Every attempt Matt made was undone by an unconscious reflex that didn't even wake her.
Matt let his head fall back against the pillow and looked at the ceiling.
'Now what do I do?'
And then he heard the laugh.
It was soft. Low. A sound that came from the queen's chest, vibrated against Matt's body, and crawled up his skin.
"Hehehe…"
Matt went still.
He felt the queen's nose against his neck. The cold tip slid from the base of his ear down to his collarbone.
Slowly.
Without hurry.
The queen was smelling his neck.
"My favorite sleepyhead is finally awake."
Her voice came out soft, husky, loaded with something Matt didn't want to identify.
Matt clicked his tongue.
"Let go of me."
Matt's body tensed and tried to pull away, but the queen's arms didn't move. They stayed exactly where they were. Firm. Closed. Without the slightest tremor.
"I need to go to the bathroom."
The queen didn't let go. Her face was still buried in Matt's neck. Her nose still pressed to his skin, hot breath hitting his collarbone with every exhale.
"How do you say it?"
Matt pressed his lips together.
"Let go of me."
"That's not what I asked." The queen's voice was calm. Patient. The tone of someone who had all the time in the world and knew it. "I asked how you say it."
Matt knew what she wanted.
He wasn't going to say it.
"Let go of me. I need to go to the bathroom."
"I won't let go until you say what's proper."
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"You're not my mother."
Silence.
The queen laughed.
"Hehehe."
And tightened her grip.
Her arms closed around Matt's torso with a force that knocked the air out of his lungs.
It wasn't painful.
It didn't break anything.
But it was strong enough that Matt felt his rib cage compress by two centimeters, and the space he had to breathe shrank by half.
"You're so full of energy."
Matt didn't respond.
He was trying to breathe.
But at the same time, he was feeling something else.
Pressure.
Not in his chest.
Lower.
In his bladder.
Matt realized he needed to urinate.
Not a normal need.
An urgent one.
"Stop."
"Mm?"
"Stop. Stop squeezing. I'm going to wet myself."
The queen lifted her head and Matt saw her.
In the darkness, the queen's red eyes glowed. Two soft red points, looking down at him with an expression Matt knew too well.
Amusement.
"And?"
"What do you mean 'and'?"
"And what if you wet yourself?"
Matt glared at her, annoyed.
The queen looked at him, smiling.
"It wouldn't be the first time."
Matt's stomach clenched.
Not from pain.
From disgust.
A deep disgust that climbed from his abdomen up to his throat and left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Matt remembered.
He didn't want to remember. He had tried not to remember. He had buried that memory in the darkest place in his head and piled layers of other thoughts on top of it.
He had entombed it. Ignored it. Pretended it didn't exist.
But the queen had just dug it up with five words.
"It wouldn't be the first time."
That time.
That damned time.
When he had first arrived at the capital. When he still didn't understand anything. When the queen had locked him in this very room and treated him like an object. Like a thing. Like something that belonged to her.
And he had wet himself.
Not because he wanted to.
Not because he could have avoided it.
Because the queen wouldn't let him go. Because she didn't care. Because to her, a vessel that wet itself was no different from a vessel that didn't. Both were hers. Both were under her control. And the humiliation Matt felt in that moment had meant nothing to her.
Nothing.
Matt gritted his teeth.
The disgust turned into rage.
And the rage turned into movement.
Matt hit the queen.
His right fist closed and slammed into the queen's shoulder. Then into her side. Then into her arm.
Quick, short strikes, with all the force his body could generate from that position.
The hits landed.
All of them.
But they did nothing.
The queen's body didn't move.
Her arms didn't loosen.
Her expression didn't change.
Matt's blows against her skin were like raindrops against a rock.
They made sound.
They could be felt.
But they produced no result.
The queen laughed.
"You're quite energetic today."
Matt hit harder. Fist against her shoulder. Forearm against her arm. Elbow against her side.
Each strike more desperate than the last.
But each impact more useless.
He wasn't hurting her.
He wasn't doing anything to her.
Matt knew it. He'd known it from the moment he threw the first punch.
But the rage wouldn't let him stop.
The memory of that humiliation was too fresh.
Too alive.
Matt kept hitting.
And the queen kept laughing.
Matt stopped — not because he wanted to, but because his body had nothing left.
His arms fell to his sides. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps. His chest rose and fell. His muscles burned. His whole body felt heavier than it should.
'What…?'
Matt was weak.
He had rested. He was supposed to have slept for a long time. His body should be recovered. Should have strength. Should be able to move without every strike costing him so much.
But no.
His body felt like it hadn't been used in a long time.
Matt frowned.
The confusion must have shown on his face, because the queen spoke.
"You've been in bed for a long time, son." Her voice came out calm. Natural. "Your body has been asleep for weeks. Muscles lose strength when they're not used for that long. It's normal."
Matt looked at her.
"But it's nothing serious," the queen continued. The smile stayed on her face. The red eyes kept glowing with that amusement that made Matt sick. "A little training and you'll be back in full shape soon. I can guarantee it. Your body has everything it needs to recover quickly. Especially after all the blood that—"
"I didn't ask for an explanation."
Matt's voice came out dry and sharp.
The queen wasn't offended.
Wasn't bothered.
Her expression didn't change.
She just looked at him with those red eyes and smiled a bit more.
"I can't resist answering when you make that face."
"What face?"
"That one. The one you're making right now. With your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pressed together and your eyes confused. It's a very beautiful face."
Matt felt the disgust climb up his throat again.
"Why are you treating me like a son now?"
The question came out before Matt could think it through.
The queen tilted her head.
"Before, you didn't even acknowledge me as a man. You treated me like a thing. Like a vessel. And now you call me 'sleepyhead' and 'son' and talk to me like—"
"I won't answer that."
Matt stopped.
"I won't answer," the queen repeated, "until you call me what you know you're supposed to call me."
Matt stared at her.
The queen stared back.
The silence lasted three seconds.
Matt wanted to hit her.
Wanted to hit her with everything he had.
Wanted to summon the bow-spear and shatter that smile off her face.
Wanted those red eyes to stop looking at him with that sickening amusement.
But he knew it was useless.
He knew it.
His blows didn't hurt her.
His body was weak.
And the bow-spear…
Matt thought about the bow-spear. The blonde girl. If he summoned her, she would appear in her weapon form and Matt could—
No.
Matt discarded the idea.
Not because he didn't want to. But because summoning the bow-spear in front of the queen meant revealing he had a third ego weapon.
One the queen didn't know about.
One that had awakened in the cave.
And that was information Matt couldn't let go of.
Not now.
Not here.
Not like this.
The guns.
Matt shifted his eyes without moving his head. In the darkness of the room, to the left, he made out the shape of a nightstand. And on the nightstand, two elongated forms he recognized instantly.
Noxx's guns.
They were there. Less than two meters away.
But they might as well have been two kilometers away. With the queen's embrace immobilizing him, Matt couldn't reach them. Couldn't extend his arm. Couldn't move. Couldn't do anything.
The queen's voice reached him from above.
"Call me what I asked."
Matt closed his eyes.
The pressure in his bladder was getting worse.
Every second that passed, the urgency grew. What had been an uncomfortable nuisance was becoming something that required his full concentration to hold back.
The muscles in his abdomen tensed.
His legs pressed together.
Matt couldn't let himself wet himself again.
Not in front of her.
He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction.
"You're a psychopath."
The queen didn't flinch.
"Maybe."
Elyra brought her face closer. Matt saw the red eyes approaching. Bright. Enormous. The smile beneath them. Lips curved upward. White hair falling at the sides of her face.
And the queen's lips touched his forehead.
A kiss.
Soft, brief, and precise.
Matt turned his head.
"Stop!"
The queen's lips touched his right cheek.
Another kiss.
"I said stop!"
Matt raised his hands. He put them between his face and the queen's. Fingers spread, palms forward, trying to create a barrier.
The queen's lips passed between his fingers and touched his other cheek.
Another kiss.
"Stop!"
Matt pushed with both hands. With all the strength he had left. Against the queen's face, against her shoulders, against any part of her he could reach.
The queen didn't move.
It was like pushing against a wall.
The queen's lips touched his forehead again.
Kiss.
Elyra kissed his cheek.
Kiss.
The other cheek.
Kiss.
Matt moved his head from side to side. Trying to dodge her. But the queen was faster, more precise, and her lips found his skin no matter how much he moved.
"What is wrong with you?! Why are you doing this?!"
The queen didn't answer. She just kept kissing his face with a calm that made no sense at all.
A kiss on the forehead. A kiss on the cheek. A kiss near the ear. A kiss on the temple.
Matt didn't understand.
He didn't understand what was happening with this woman.
Before, the queen had been cold. Distant. She treated him like an object. Like a vessel that existed to fulfill a function.
There had been no affection.
No tenderness.
Nothing that even remotely resembled this.
And now she was kissing him?
Now she held him while he slept?
Now she called him "favorite sleepyhead"?
What had changed?
What had happened while he slept?
Matt had no answers. And he wasn't going to get any while the queen kept kissing his face nonstop.
"Stop! Stop it! Stop—!"
A kiss on the nose.
"—doing that!"
A kiss on the forehead.
Matt felt overwhelmed.
Completely overwhelmed.
He couldn't hit her because it didn't hurt her.
He couldn't push her because she was stronger.
He couldn't dodge her because she was faster.
He couldn't summon his weapons because he couldn't reach them.
And he couldn't hold on much longer because his bladder was about to give out.
He was trapped.
Immobilized.
Humiliated.
And the queen kept smiling.
Matt stopped fighting.
His arms fell to his sides. His head stopped moving. He lay still, looking at the ceiling, breathing hard, his face damp from the kisses the queen had left all over his skin.
"Stop," Matt said. His voice came out low. No rage. No sarcasm. No strength. Just a request. Simple and direct. "Stop, please."
The queen didn't stop.
One more kiss on the forehead.
"Please."
Another on the cheek.
Matt closed his eyes.
The pressure in his bladder was unbearable.
Every muscle in his abdomen was tense.
His legs trembled with the effort of holding back what his body wanted to release.
He felt heat in his face, in his neck, all over his body.
The disgust, the rage, the frustration, and the urgency mixed together in his head until he could no longer tell which was which.
He couldn't take it anymore.
Couldn't keep going like this.
He had no options.
Matt opened his mouth.
"Mother."
The word came out of his mouth as if a tooth were being pulled without anesthesia.
"Stop. Please, mother. Stop."
The queen stopped.
The lips that were halfway to his cheek froze in the air. The arms squeezing him didn't loosen, but they stopped moving. The red eyes looking down at him glowed with an intensity they hadn't had before.
The smile on the queen's face widened.
Not by much.
Just enough.
It was the smile of someone who had gotten exactly what they wanted.
Matt looked at her and held her gaze for two seconds.
Then looked away to one side.
"Let me go."
The queen didn't respond.
"Please. I'm really wetting myself."
The queen looked at him. The smile stayed there. The red eyes kept glowing. The arms stayed closed around his torso.
"No."
Matt looked at her.
"I won't let go," said the queen. Her voice was soft. Sweet. Patient. "Until you say it again."
