The Reborn Sovereign of Ruin, Bound by His Star

Chapter 222: Chapter 222: Wrinkles

It was late in the night when Liam and Arik could finally retreat to their car and go home.

Home, Liam thought, and did not know what to do with the word.

The engagement reception had stretched for hours beneath garden lights, applause, careful smiles, selected speeches, dangerous relatives, hopeful civilians, and Rex looking more and more like a man who intended to survive the night purely so he could begin arrests in the morning.

Liam had survived too.

Barely.

His suit was still correct. His hair was still down. His ring sat warm on his finger, catching the low ether-light inside the car every time he moved his hand.

Arik had planned to be decent.

Restrained.

Possibly even demure, if one were generous and willing to lie on behalf of imperial princes.

Unfortunately for his intentions, Liam had declared war on his restraint and was now straddling him in the back seat of the car.

"What about the suit?" Arik asked with a wide grin, placing his hands on Liam’s waist beneath the unbuttoned coat, right over the crisp white shirt.

Liam looked down at him.

The car’s privacy wards had already been sealed, tinting the windows into dark reflective glass. Outside, Wrohan’s palace lights slid past in distant streaks of gold and white. Inside, everything was close: dark leather, low ether light, Arik’s heat, and the unbearable satisfaction on his face.

"You promised ether," Liam said.

"For wrinkles."

"Yes."

"Not for deliberate assault on tailoring."

"You burned an entire garment today. Do not pretend to respect fabric now."

Arik laughed, the sound low enough to settle beneath Liam’s skin. "That was boundary enforcement."

"This is also boundary enforcement."

"Against whom?"

"Your self-control."

Arik’s grin softened into something darker.

"That," he said, "is a dangerous enemy to provoke."

Liam should have had a clever answer.

He had several, in theory.

Unfortunately, Arik looked almost unfair under him: black hair slightly loose from the reception, dark red evening shirt open at the throat, a dark-gold ring visible where one hand held Liam steady, and eyes warm with suppressed rut and ridiculous tenderness.

Liam leaned down and kissed him instead.

Arik did not take over.

That was becoming one of his most devastating habits.

He let Liam set the first pressure of it, the angle, and the length. Only when Liam’s fingers tightened at the back of his neck did Arik answer properly, mouth opening beneath his with a controlled hunger that made Liam’s thoughts scatter like poorly secured documents in a windstorm.

The suit did not wrinkle.

Liam noticed that distantly and hated Arik for being competent even now.

He broke the kiss just enough to breathe. "You are using ether during this."

"Yes."

"That is obscene."

"That is engineering."

Liam stared at him. "Do not try to seduce me with correct terminology."

Arik’s smile turned wicked. "Is it working?"

"No."

It was.

Arik clearly knew it was.

His hands stayed at Liam’s waist, careful and firm, not sliding higher toward ribs, not dragging him closer than Liam had already chosen to be. The restraint was still there, beneath the heat, beneath the laughter, beneath the fact that Liam was sitting in his lap in a moving armored car while wearing an engagement ring.

Liam’s chest tightened.

He touched Arik’s face, thumb brushing the line of his cheekbone. "You behaved all evening."

Arik’s eyes darkened. "Mostly."

"You did not murder anyone."

"The night is young."

"You did not set any more clothing on fire."

"I showed growth."

"You smiled at three people who deserved immediate removal."

"I was thinking of Rex’s schedule."

Liam huffed a laugh. "How diplomatic."

"I am engaged now. I have responsibilities."

"That is your excuse?"

"No. You are my excuse."

The words landed too softly for defense.

Liam looked away, but there was nowhere useful to look. The car was too private, Arik too close, the ring too visible on his own hand.

Arik’s hand shifted once at his waist, grounding him.

"Too much?" he asked.

Liam hated that question.

Loved it.

"No," he said. "Just inconvenient."

Arik’s mouth curved. "I can work with inconvenient."

"You usually cause it."

"Also true."

Liam leaned down again, slower this time.

This kiss was quieter, almost careful, and somehow that made it worse. Arik’s breath caught beneath him. His hands tightened only briefly before easing again, as if he had reminded himself that Liam could feel everything. The heat of him was still there, rut leashed but not absent, a furnace behind palace manners and medical suppressants.

Liam pulled back.

Arik’s eyes stayed closed for half a second longer than necessary.

That pleased Liam far more than it should have.

"You are smug," Arik murmured.

"I earned it."

"You are sitting in my lap."

"And winning."

Arik opened his eyes. "Winning what?"

Liam looked at him, at the ring, at the man who had waited through ceremony and reception and every public demand without using any of them to claim what Liam had not offered.

"This," Liam said.

Arik’s fingers slipped down Liam’s back, under his suit pants, until they reached between his buttocks, then ground him over his hardness. The movement was slow and firm; Liam’s breath hitched at the warmth as contact between layers of clothing. His hips moved instinctively, seeking more of that pressure.

"Still winning?" Arik murmured against his lips, his voice a low vibration that Liam felt more than heard.

Liam answered by rocking his hips, his crimson eyes shining with amusement. The car’s gentle sway only added to the rhythm they were creating, while the privacy screens kept their world contained within this leather-wrapped space. The suit was definitely wrinkling now, but neither of them cared.

"You’re going to make me ruin this suit completely," Liam managed, his voice shaking as Arik’s fingers worked their magic, stroking and teasing him.

"Good," Arik said, nipping at Liam’s throat. "I want you marked again and again."

Liam tilted his head back, giving Arik better access as those fingers continued their exploration, teasing and probing the wetness already gathering there. The car turned onto their private drive, but neither of them moved to separate. Home was approaching, but neither cared.