Chapter 257: A Battle of Patience

Zarius braced himself, his back arching slightly off the mattress in anticipation. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached, preparing for the sheer impact of Cherion finally taking charge.

But the impact never came.

Instead of leaning all the way down, Cherion stopped a mere millimeter away. He let out a soft, hot breath that brushed directly against the highly sensitive skin of Zarius’s length, making the duke violently shudder from head to toe.

Then Cherion moved, slow enough to test the last remaining thread of Zarius’s patience. He simply pressed the smooth, warm skin of his inner thigh against the rigid length, slowly dragging himself upward until he was merely straddling Zarius’s hips.

Zarius’s eyes flew open, wild and utterly bewildered. "Cherion...?"

"Yes, Your Grace?" Cherion replied innocently. He rested his palms flat against Zarius’s broad, bare chest, leaning his weight down just enough to feel the frantic, heavy thudding of the duke’s heart. He didn’t do anything to offer relief. He just sat there, a picture of perfect, infuriating composure, looking down at the mess he had made of the empire’s greatest warrior.

"What are you doing?" Zarius rasped out. Every muscle in his frame was tense from the effort of holding still. His hands were still slammed flat against the bedsheets, his knuckles a stark, bloodless white as his fingers desperately clawed the fabric.

"Consider it a lesson in discipline," Cherion explained smoothly, a slow, wicked smirk creeping back onto his face. He leaned down, burying his fingers into the thick muscles of Zarius’s thighs, his cool hands brushing teasingly close to Zarius’s aching length, tracing lines right along the crease of his hips.

Zarius let out a low, frustrated growl, his entire frame shuddering as Cherion leaned in closer, finally capturing his lips once more.

The kiss deepened naturally, slow and lingering, until Zarius could barely remember what he had been trying to say. But while his mouth was full of fire, his hands remained torturers, lightly brushing and caressing Zarius’s hips and outer thighs, generating a maddening friction that drove Zarius to the brink of sanity.

When Cherion finally pulled away, a thin strand lingered between them for a brief second before snapping. Cherion was panting now, too. For all his smug, confident posturing, the intense proximity and the sheer size of the man beneath him were taking an undeniable toll. Right there, pressed firmly against Zarius’s lower abdomen, Cherion’s body betrayed him completely. His fully aroused length was hot, rigid, and pulsing in perfect, frantic rhythm against Zarius’s own skin.

Zarius’s eyes tracked downward, a dangerous glint flaring in his eyes as he noticed it. "Look at you. Trying to make me wait when you’re already like this? Your own body is completely exposing you."

Cherion tilted his head, resting his chin directly on Zarius’s bare stomach, looking up at him with a mock-innocent expression despite his flushed, crimson cheeks. "Exposing me? I call it matching your energy, Your Grace. Is the big, bad Duke of the North getting defeated by a little patience? Where is that legendary iron discipline I always hear the soldiers gossiping about?"

"My discipline doesn’t apply when my mate is actively trying to drive me insane," Zarius panted, his chest heaving violently. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

"Oh, am I?" Cherion laughed, a breathless, beautiful sound. He shifted his weight, intentionally sliding his bare stomach against Zarius’s rigid thighs as he leaned up to press another maddeningly brief kiss to the corner of Zarius’s jaw. "And what are you going to do about it? You aren’t allowed to touch me, remember? If you do that, I’m putting my clothes back on and sleeping somewhere else."

The threat was effective. Zarius’s fingers tightened so hard against the bedsheets that the threads literally groaned under the pressure. His beastly instincts were screaming at him to rip his hands free, pin Cherion beneath him, and reclaim his dominant position.

But he knew Cherion wasn’t bluffing. If he broke the rules, the teasing would stop entirely. So, Zarius stopped fighting blindly, forced his racing mind to clear, and relied on pure instinct.

"You said hands on the mattress," Zarius noted.

Cherion blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sudden shift in the duke’s demeanor. "Yes. Keep them at your sides. If you..."

"I’m not moving them," Zarius interrupted smoothly.

Before Cherion could process the words, Zarius shifted his weight with explosive speed. He threw his leg over Cherion’s hips, using his sheer size to trap Cherion’s lower body beneath his heavy thigh.

Cherion gasped, half-laughing and half-shocked as he found himself suddenly pinned. "Hey! That is cheating! You’re using your size!"

"I’m following your conditions to the exact letter," Zarius rumbled, looking down with a dark, triumphant grin. "I haven’t touched you with a single finger."

Cherion tried to pull back, but Zarius’s weight kept him firmly in place. Their bodies were locked tight, pressing Cherion’s bare heat directly and firmly against Zarius’s throbbing length. The sudden, intense friction of the full contact sent a jolt of pure lightning straight through both of them, cutting Cherion’s complaints short as a soft, breathless gasp escaped his lips.

But if Zarius thought this maneuver was going to win him the battle, he completely underestimated his mate.

A slow, wicked smirk crept onto Cherion’s face. He didn’t fight the restriction. Instead, he leaned completely into it. Since Zarius had pinned them so close together, Cherion deliberately shifted his hips, slowly grinding his own rigid, throbbing bulge directly against Zarius’s aching length.

Zarius’s eyes blew wide. A ragged, completely strangled sound caught in his throat as the blistering friction sent a shockwave of pure fire straight to his core.

"You think you’re so clever, Duke," Cherion purred. He watched with utter delight as Zarius’s entire frame began to shiver, the duke’s jaw clenching so hard the veins in his neck popped. "But all you did was bring yourself closer to me."

Cherion reached up, wrapping his hands firmly around Zarius’s stiff shoulders, using the leverage to pull himself up. He didn’t touch Zarius’s length with his hands. He just kept rubbing their bodies together with a ruthless rhythm, completely denying Zarius any actual release while keeping him on the absolute brink of exploding.

"Cherion...." Zarius growled, a desperate, broken gasp ripping from his chest. His fists tore further into the sheets, the fabric groaning as he fought a losing battle against his own body. He was burning, completely overwhelmed by the sensory overload, his mind spinning from the sheer torture of being so close yet entirely banned from participating. "Stop."

"Make me," Cherion teased, biting down softly on Zarius’s lower lip, tasting the frantic heat there. "You can’t move your hands. You can’t escape. You’re completely at my mercy."

Zarius was panting now, his restraint hanging by a thread. His iron discipline was entirely shredded. If he stayed like this for one more heartbeat, he was going to lose his mind.

Before Cherion could even blink, Zarius snapped.

In one seamless burst of motion, Zarius hooked his leg around Cherion’s waist and twisted, rolling them over before Cherion could react. Cherion let out a sharp, breathless yelp of surprise as his world completely spun, ending instantly with his back pinned flat against the pillows and Zarius’s massive, imposing frame completely enveloping him from above.

True to his word, Zarius’s hands landed flat against the mattress beside Cherion’s head, never touching him.

"Hands are still on the mattress," Zarius rumbled dangerously, his voice dripping with a rough, breathless dark promise as he glared down at his utterly stunned mate. "Now. Let’s see who is really at whose mercy."

Cherion stared up at him, his chest heaving as he took in the sight of the dominant commander hovering over him, trapped by his own restraint. The initial shock faded from Cherion’s eyes, replaced by a slow, familiar warmth. A smirk curled the corner of his lips, completely unfazed by the sudden shift.

"Is that a challenge, Duke?"