Chapter 164: Heat and Hunger

Felix and I stepped into the room while Julius lingered at the threshold like some kind of theatrical chaperone, and saints above, I was immediately taken aback by how genuinely beautiful it was—not in the faded grandeur way that characterized the rest of the theater, but in a warm, lived-in manner that suggested actual care had gone into its creation.

A large bed dominated the left side of the space, draped in velvet sheets of such deep crimson they looked almost black in the dim light, the fabric catching shadows and holding them like secrets.

In front of us on the far wall sat a small desk, its surface cluttered with papers and what looked like art supplies, and next to that stood a large wardrobe in the corner that had been carved with intricate floral patterns someone had clearly spent hours perfecting.

A small fireplace crackled on the right wall, casting dancing orange light across the space and filling it with the kind of warmth that felt almost luxurious after the cold of the slums outside.

“This is…” I breathed, turning slowly to take it all in, my eyes wide with genuine appreciation. “This is beautiful, Felix. Like, legitimately gorgeous. I was expecting maybe a mattress on the floor and some candles if I was lucky, but this is—wow.”

Julius chuckled from the doorway, his hazelnut eyes twinkling with fond amusement. “Felix designed it with you in mind,” he explained, gesturing at the space with obvious pride. “Spent weeks getting everything just right, drove me absolutely mad with his perfectionism. But I have to admit, the boy has taste.”

I believed it. The attention to detail, the color choices, the way everything seemed positioned specifically to create maximum coziness—this was absolutely Felix’s work, put together with the kind of devotion that made my chest ache in ways I wasn’t entirely prepared to handle.

And that’s when I noticed the walls themselves. Covering the intricate red wallpaper pattern in scattered clusters were little papers stuck up with what looked like wax or glue, and as my eyes focused I realized they were drawings—crude, childlike sketches done in charcoal and colored pencil that depicted… me.

Me holding hands with Felix in fields of flowers that didn’t exist underground. Me and Felix sitting together under an illustrated sun. Me smiling down at a tiny Felix who was offering me a flower with both hands.

The drawings were everywhere, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, a shrine to moments that had happened and moments Felix clearly hoped would happen. My heart shattered completely then, disintegrating completely into dust and feelings I couldn’t name.

Felix turned on his heel, his hands clutched behind his back in that nervous gesture he did when he was waiting for approval, his wide eyes fixed on my face with an intensity that suggested my reaction meant everything to him.

His blonde hair caught the firelight and made him glow like some kind of anxious angel. The hopeful expression on his delicate features was so vulnerable it physically hurt to look at.

I didn’t even think. I just moved, crossing the space in three quick steps, before pulling him into a hug so deep and full-bodied it lifted him slightly off his feet. A light gasp escaped him—surprise, relief, and something that might have been joy all tangled together.

“Felix,” I murmured into his hair, my voice thick with emotion I wasn’t even trying to hide anymore. “This is—you’re—I don’t have any words, you absolute treasure of a person.”

Julius’s voice cut through the moment with perfect timing as I heard the distinctive click of his stopwatch being flicked open. “Well then,” he said with theatrical cheer, “I’ll be on the roof if anybody needs me. Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”

I pulled back from Felix just enough to look at Julius in confusion. “Wait, the roof? Why are you—” But he’d already slipped out, the door closing with a soft click.

I was left standing there with Felix in my arms and about seventeen new questions I didn’t have answers to before letting him slowly slip from my grasp.

Felix bounced on his heels then, the nervous energy that always seemed to course through him finding a new outlet. He grabbed my hand with both of his before tugging me toward the desk with surprising strength.

He began showing off more of his artwork with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been waiting weeks to share this, pointing at each piece with little pleased sounds. There were depictions of when we’d fought in the underground arena—me standing over his smaller frame with my fist raised, him looking up at me with something that might have been awe, terror, or possibly both.

There was one of me kicking Lord Verrin in the face, my leg extended in a perfect arc while the noble’s expression twisted into comical surprise.

And then there were… oh saints, there were so many pictures of me naked. Just absolutely covered in sketches of my anatomy from every possible angle, some anatomically accurate and others clearly drawn from memory with creative interpretations of certain proportions.

I giggled—couldn’t help it, the sound bubbling up helpless and delighted—then pointed at one particularly ambitious rendering. “Felix, is that—did you give me a set of abs? Fifteen at that. Gods, I mean, I appreciate the artistic license but I definitely don’t have that many.”

Felix’s face went brilliant red and he immediately began trying to cover them up with his hands, making distressed squeaking sounds while I laughed harder, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my chin on his head.

“It’s okay, it’s cute! I’m flattered you’ve memorized my body in such detail! Though maybe next time add a little warning label so I don’t get ambushed by my own illustrated penis.”

We settled into conversation after that—well, I talked and Felix responded with nods, shakes of his head, and occasional hand gestures, with the very rarest whispered word slipping out when he felt particularly strong about something.

I told him about the match with Elvina, about Iskanda’s training, about the chaos of the arena, the papers raining down, and the absolute insanity of everything that had led me here.

“Oh!” I interrupted myself mid-story, suddenly remembering something important. I reached down to my boot and pulled out Iskanda’s ruby with a theatrical flourish, holding it up so it caught the firelight and gleamed with that deep crimson color.

The instant I told him about its capabilities, Felix’s face immediately flushed a deep red that spread down his neck and chest, and he made a small squeaking sound that suggested his imagination had just gone to some very specific places.

“Anyway,” I said with a laugh, stuffing the ruby into the nightstand drawer for safekeeping, “where was I? Right—the papers raining down and everyone losing their minds…”

He listened with rapt attention, his eyes tracking my face as if I were reciting sacred texts instead of recounting my week of escalating disasters. Every so often he’d reach out to touch my arm or my hand as if reassuring himself I was real.

Then he let out the most adorable yawn I’d ever witnessed, his mouth opening wide to reveal small teeth, his eyes squeezing shut, and when he finished he swayed slightly on his feet like the action had cost him significant energy.

“Wanna head to bed?” I asked gently, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “It’s been a long day for both of us, and I think my body is about five minutes away from staging a coup if I don’t lie down soon.”

Felix nodded meekly, his cheeks still faintly flushed as I began stripping off my clothing—the torn blouse, the blood-stained skirt, the boots that had carried me through far too much today—letting each piece fall to the floor with the kind of casual efficiency that came from being too tired to care about modesty.

Almost instantly, Felix moved to cover his eyes with both hands, a sharp squeak escaping him. I paused mid-motion to stare at him in amused disbelief.

“Felix,” I said slowly, fighting back my laughter. “You have drawings of me naked all over your walls. Extremely detailed drawings. You’ve seen everything already—multiple times, from multiple angles. Why are you covering your eyes?”

He peeked through his fingers, his face somehow going even redder, before he made a tiny whimpering sound with no actual words attached to it.

I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of me then, bright and genuine. I stalked toward him with deliberate intent, and before he could react or protest, I gripped the hem of his white dress and pulled it over his head with one efficient tug, leaving him bare and naked before me.

His small frame was trembling slightly in the firelight. His cock was already stiff and leaking, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip, and the sight of him—vulnerable, wanting, and trying desperately not to show it—made something warm curl in my stomach.

“There,” I said with satisfaction, tossing his dress aside. “Now we’re even. No more hiding.” I gripped his hand gently, my fingers interlacing with his smaller ones, and led him toward the bed.

I slipped under the velvet sheets first, the fabric cool and impossibly soft against my skin, before motioning for Felix to join me with a pat to the space beside me.

He did so slowly, his legs shaking slightly. When he finally settled against me I could feel every tremor running through his body. We huddled close, my chest pressed against his, my arm draped over his waist, before I continued the conversation in a lower register, my voice pitched intimate and warm against his ear.

“You know,” I murmured, my breath ghosting across his neck and making him shiver, “I thought about you a lot while I was in the prison. Wondered if you were okay, if Julius was treating you well, if you’d managed to avoid getting into too much trouble without me there to protect you.” My hand traced idle patterns on his stomach, feeling the way his muscles jumped under my touch. “Looks like you did more than okay. You thrived. Built yourself a little sanctuary and waited for me to come back to it.”

Felix made a soft sound—not quite words, but close—and pressed against me with intention that suggested he wanted to be closer, wanted to crawl inside my skin if physics would allow it.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, gentle and chaste, feeling his breathing start to even out as sleep pulled at him with insistent fingers. “Get some rest, Felix. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

He relaxed then, his body going soft and pliant against mine, and within moments his breathing had shifted into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

I stayed awake, just watching him in the firelight, taking in the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, the way his lips parted slightly with each exhale, the barely restrained twitches that ran through his limbs as he dreamed about gods-knew-what.

Then, feeling a bit mischievous—because apparently exhaustion made me playful rather than sensible—I trailed my fingers lightly over the soft curve of his hip, barely touching, just enough pressure to register as sensation.

Felix gasped in his sleep, his entire body shuddering. The sound went straight to my cock which had been behaving itself up until that exact moment. Blood surged south in a hot rush, my shaft swelling thick and heavy, grinding insistently along the soft inside of his thigh until the slick, flushed head bumped against his own rigid length.

His entire body convulsed then, back arching taut, before I heard a sharp spurt from beneath the covers, followed by several smaller ones. I blinked in surprise, processing what had just happened, before carefully lifting the velvet sheets just enough to confirm my suspicion.

Yep. Felix had come, his release painting the red fabric in streaks of white, his cock still twitching with aftershocks.

I giggled—actually giggled, like this was the funniest thing I’d witnessed all week—and brushed my hand lightly against his flushed cheek, the touch deliberate enough to stir him from sleep. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused, before he made a questioning sound in his throat.

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” I murmured, my voice warm with amusement and something darker. “You just came in your sleep. Which is adorable, by the way, but also suggests you’re extremely pent up right now.”

I let my hand drift down, fingertips barely grazing the fever-hot skin of his chest, tracing the sharp rise and fall of each ragged breath before sliding over the sweat-damp plane of his stomach.

I skirted the trembling muscles there, teasing closer to the slick mess between his thighs, close enough to feel the radiant heat pulsing from his spent cock as it gave another weak, desperate twitch in response.

“So I have to ask, because consent is important even when we’ve done this before—wanna have sex?”

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