________
Lucina
The heated tension that had been crackling between us moments ago snapped like a fragile thread. Hakan's entire body shuddered, his breath coming in rough, uneven gasps. I watched in stunned confusion as his jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut, a look of profound, agonizing struggle painted across his features.
"…CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!" His voice erupted, jagged and raw, bouncing off the walls of the luxurious bedroom. The sheer force of it made my heart lurch, and I instinctively flinched.
"?!" My voice barely carried over the pounding of my heart as I watched him move with a desperate, erratic energy. In a flurry of motion, he dashed across the room, leaving a trail of scattered sheets and clothes in his wake. He was barely clothed, and the combination of his panic and bare vulnerability was both alarming and strangely surreal.
"Hakan…?" I murmured, pushing myself up against the pillows, my hands clutching the soft fabric beneath me. My breath hitched as I followed him with my gaze, heart thudding in anxious rhythm. He paced frantically across the rug, every inhale and exhale visible in the tense rise and fall of his chest. HUFF… HUFF… HUFF…
Then, abruptly, he stopped. My eyes locked with his, wide and swimming with the storm of emotions raging within him. "I-I think we should sleep in our own rooms for the next two months, Lucina!" His declaration came out in a flustered rush, eyes desperate, fingers twitching.
"WHAT? WHY?" The words flew from me before I could think, my chest tightening. My pulse spiked as confusion collided with hurt. I saw the flush climbing up his neck, the rigid tension of his fists, and the tremor in his lips.
"I have to stay completely celibate!" His voice rose again, erratic and panicked, and he began pacing once more. "IT'S DANGEROUS OTHERWISE!" RAMBLE… RAMBLE… His words tumbled over each other, frantic and incoherent, carrying the weight of a mind on the brink.
"What do you mean?" I asked softly, my voice small, almost fragile against the storm of his desperation. On the bed, a smaller, bewildered version of myself watched him, helpless and wide-eyed.
He groaned, clutching his head in frustration, a sound somewhere between anguish and irritation. "AAAAGHHHH!" The incomprehensible string of curses that followed made me wince.
"Then… let's just hold hands," I offered cautiously, seeking a compromise, desperate for a foothold in the chaos of his panic.
He spun toward me in an instant, halting me mid-sentence with a frantic, almost comical gesture. "WE CAN'T DO THAT EITHER!" His declaration hit like a physical barrier. I blinked, picturing him as a cartoonish blockade, his entire being an obstacle between us. "And we can't sleep in the same room!"
My eyes widened, disbelief mingling with a sudden, sinking panic. "S-so we can only see each other for two months?!" The thought pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating.
"THAT'S THE SAFEST OPTION!" His voice, sharp and unwavering, carried the conviction of someone tortured by desire yet determined to maintain control.
"NO!" My own volume surprised me, rising in desperate opposition. My lip trembled as shock and hurt collided. "W-we haven't had any issues kissing and holding hands until now, so why have you suddenly changed your mind?!"
He looked away, gaze falling to the polished floor beneath him, features taut with internal struggle. "Because… I don't think I can hold back if we kiss." The words were laden with painful honesty, a confession that cut sharper than any weapon.
I was frozen, speechless, my chest tight as I tried to reconcile the chaos in his eyes. The man who moments ago had been all-consuming and tender now seemed impossibly distant, his resolve clashing violently with the warmth of what we had just shared.
I watched him, helpless, as he began frantically rummaging through his belongings near the ornate chair by the bed. It wasn't just a retreat from closeness—it was a retreat from me, from everything we had been daring to feel in that fleeting, intense moment.
---
My heart twisted with hurt and confusion. Just moments ago, we had been lost in each other, every touch and every kiss igniting a fire I hadn't known I could feel. And now… he was trying to run away, speaking of sleeping in separate rooms for two months.
"NO!" I cried out, the shock making my voice rise in a frantic shout. "W-we haven't had any issues kissing and holding hands until now, so why have you suddenly changed your mind?!"
He couldn't meet my gaze. His entire being was a storm of miserable conflict, tense and taut. "Because… I don't think I can hold back if we kiss," he admitted, voice heavy, almost broken.
It was an honest confession, desperate and raw, yet it did little to soothe my frantic mind. I watched him as he frantically RUMMAGED through his belongings by the ornate chair, his movements sharp and urgent.
"What?" My voice came out small, broken, as I tried to make sense of the chaos in front of me.
He spun back toward me, holding up a strip of dark fabric—a sash or some part of his clothing. "HERE! TIE ME UP WITH THIS." The sheer audacity of his proposal crackled in the air. "AFTER YOU'VE TIED ME UP, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU LIKE."
My brain stuttered. I stared at the cloth, then at the man before me—Hakan, King and Draconian, his body strong and taut, inked with striking black tattoos. He was offering himself to me, vulnerable yet commanding, a prisoner of his own resolve.
"AFTER YOU'VE TIED ME UP, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU LIKE." His eyes bore into mine, serious, commanding. "HAVE YOU TIED ME UP PROPERLY? SO I CAN'T BREAK FREE NO MATTER WHAT?"
I took the fabric, hands trembling slightly. His intent was clear: if I bound him, he would be safe from himself—and perhaps safe for me. I wrapped the sash around his wrist, my fingers brushing the warm, hard muscle beneath.
He watched me, unblinking, his gaze a blazing coal. "Y-you can do what you like now," he whispered, voice low, almost a rasp.
A shiver ran down my spine. The intensity of his sacrifice, the depth of his trust, was overwhelming. I swallowed hard, leaning closer, my white hair cascading over his chest. LEAN. BA-BUMP… BA-BUMP.
My heart hammered against my ribs, unrelenting. "YES," I whispered, nodding. Then, softer, vulnerable, I asked the question that had been burning inside me: "N-now… can I kiss you?"
His eyes softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he accepted his surrender. BA-BUMP. Our lips met again, and the kiss was a surge of passion, raw and consuming. He had surrendered himself to me completely, and the knowledge of that filled me with a dizzying, heady power.
Meanwhile, far from the intimacy of the bedroom, a darker scheme unfolded within the palace walls. Two figures spoke in hushed, tense tones, their words laced with danger.
"…Black Magic on Hakan?" a man asked, unease flickering across his face. "He might be a Draconian and the King, but he's still from the Tayar tribe."
Giaret smirked, holding a small, smooth stone between her fingers. Her eyes gleamed with cold calculation. "Your black magic should still work on him, right?"
"THAT'S TOO DANGEROUS, GIARET!" the man protested, worry etched in every line of his face. "He's the King. The palace will descend into chaos if he acts strangely."
Giaret's chuckle was dry, chilling. "What if we get caught? This is treason!"
"We just have to make sure we don't get caught," she replied, voice smooth and dangerously confident. She knew his weakness. "The cleric said it's almost time for Hakan to enter his prime." DU DUN.
"The Draconian tribe becomes unstable during that period," she continued, eyes calculating. "They might control it with medicine, but accidents happen."
A terrifying plan took shape in her mind. "If the bride he just married disappears in a tragic accident… the ministers will grow impatient." She stepped down, a stone clattering across the floor—CLANG RATTLE.
Her hand gripped the shoulder of the worried man beside her. "They'll push him to marry me again after ten years of delay. Hakan will be vulnerable if he kills his bride with his own hands. I can exploit that weakness." RETREAT.
The man stammered, conflicted, trapped by the ambition radiating from her. "G-Giaret…"
Her smile was sharp, burning brighter than any fire. She had a plan—and nothing would stop her.
,Here's a full expansion of the passage you provided, keeping the flow, emotions, and tension intact, without moving beyond the point specified:
Hakan had dashed across the room, shirtless and panicked, a storm of agitation in every step. "Hakan…?" I murmured, my voice small as I watched him pace like a caged beast.
"I-I think we should sleep in our own rooms for the next two months, Lucina!" His words hit me like a cold wave, and my chest tightened with shock.
"WHAT? WHY?" I asked, my hopes crumbling in an instant.
"I have to stay completely celibate! IT'S DANGEROUS OTHERWISE!" His confession came out in a ragged rush, voice tight, raw with the struggle to maintain control. He began to lay out the impossible rules: no holding hands, no sleeping in the same room. I felt a shiver of disbelief ripple through me. "S-so we can only see each other for two months?!"
"THAT'S THE SAFEST OPTION!" His declaration was firm, but the pain etched across his features betrayed the torment of his decision.
"NO!" I shouted, the sound bursting out uncontrollably. "W-we haven't had any issues kissing and holding hands until now, so why have you suddenly changed your mind?!"
He looked away, jaw tight, the shadows of inner conflict crossing his face. "Because… I don't think I can hold back if we kiss."
My gaze followed him as he frantically RUMMAGED through his belongings near the ornate chair. "What?" My voice was small, trembling with confusion and fear.
Then, he held out a dark sash, desperation clear in his eyes, though seriousness remained. "HERE! TIE ME UP WITH THIS. AFTER YOU'VE TIED ME UP, YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOU LIKE."
I stared at the fabric, at his taut, tattooed wrist beneath it, and realized the gravity of his surrender. He was giving me control over himself, the restraint of his own formidable power, placing trust in my hands.
I wrapped the cloth around his wrist, fingers brushing the warm, hard muscle. "HAVE YOU TIED ME UP PROPERLY? SO I CAN'T BREAK FREE NO MATTER WHAT?" he demanded, eyes locked on mine, unyielding yet vulnerable.
I nodded silently. He had placed his strength and restraint into my hands. My heart pounded as I leaned closer, white hair spilling over his chest. My voice trembled with both tenderness and rising desire. "N-now… can I kiss you?"
He inclined his head, granting permission. Our lips met, and I sank onto the bed, nestled between his powerful legs. BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP. The rapid beating of our hearts echoed in the room, a rhythm of shared surrender and fragile safety. For now, in this moment, we were tethered by trust and passion, a delicate truce of intimacy.
Authors pov
Far away from the warmth of the bedroom, darkness gathered within the palace walls.
Gillai stood upon a blood-red sigil, anxiety etched across his features. "…Black Magic on Hakan?" he asked, his voice uneasy. "He might be a Draconian and the King, but he's still from the Tayar tribe."
Giaret's lips curled into a sharp, calculating smile. "Your black magic should still work on him, right?"
"THAT'S TOO DANGEROUS, GIARET!" Gillai protested, the tremor in his voice betraying his fear. "He's the King. The palace will be thrown into chaos if he behaves strangely."
Giaret gave a dry, contemptuous CHUCKLE. "What if we get caught? This is treason!"
"We just have to make sure we don't get caught," she said smoothly, reaching toward him. "The cleric told me it's almost time for Hakan to enter his prime." DU DUN.
She continued, voice cold and deliberate, "The Draconian tribe becomes unstable during that time. Their fire energy grows stronger, making them more aggressive. Medicine can help control it, but accidents… happen."
A chilling proposal took shape. "If the bride he just married disappears in a tragic accident… the ministers will grow impatient." Her sandal kicked a loose stone across the floor—CLANG RATTLE.
"They'll advise him to marry me again after ten years' delay. Hakan will be deeply affected if he kills his bride with his own hands. I can exploit that weakness." She stepped closer to Gillai, who looked pale and trapped, his knees nearly touching the ground. "G-Giaret…"
She stroked his head with a false tenderness, a calculated display of charm. "I promise this will be the last time, Gillai. Help me this one last time, and I won't ask again…"
Gillai looked up, wide-eyed, understanding the sinister weight of her promise. He lifted a plate of liquid, hand TREMBLE-ing as he prepared to obey her final, monstrous command.
Lucina
His breathing was heavy, ragged, each inhale and exhale a storm that shook the quiet of the room. Every CREAK of movement, every subtle FLINCH of his body, betrayed his desperate struggle to maintain control. I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling the shudder beneath my palm. He's breathing… so heavily… I thought, a mixture of awe and nervousness coursing through me.
My fingers felt the furious drumming of his heart against my palm. I can't believe… his heart is beating so quickly. BA-BUMP, BA-BUMP… The raw force of his emotion pulsed beneath his skin, a living rhythm that I could not ignore. A hesitant thought crossed my mind: S-Should I stop…?
His jaw clenched, muscles taut, a guttural GRIT emanating from him. The sound spoke of sheer willpower, a stubborn refusal to yield. But when I dared to press the question, seeking to gauge the limits of his restraint, his answer came—desperate and firm: "NO…"
Then, without warning, he lunged forward. The room was filled with the tearing of cloth—RIP, RIP, RIP—as he moved with force and urgency, breaking the fragile silence that had enveloped us.
A sudden SWISH and FLOP marked the decisive moment of his action. His body descended toward mine with a strength that pressed me down, the soft impact a quiet PLOP as he pinned me beneath him. The weight of him was immense, yet it carried a strange tenderness amidst the intensity.
I looked up, eyes wide, meeting his. They were dark, burning with a mix of fierce emotion and raw desire. His breath came in ragged gasps: HUFF… HUFF… HUFF… (Image 1000078697, top) My own shock mirrored in my reflection, wide eyes absorbing the blinding intensity of the moment.
As the frenzy of passion subsided into a charged, breathless silence, I whispered his name, the weight of realization pressing down on me. "HAKAN…?" The sound was small, vulnerable, yet it carried the tremor of awe, shock, and a deep, unspoken longing.