Chapter 3: Beauty (5)
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“Hah… nngh.”
A stifled moan escaped through his tightly bitten lips. His entire body trembled with tension, yet his legs threatened to give out beneath him. Instinctively, he reached for something—anything—to steady himself, but his hand only knocked over the silverware on the table. The clatter was loud, but he was beyond caring.
His fingers pressed hard against his lips as he tilted his head back, exposing the long, sweat-slicked column of his throat. Below it, his nipples stood erect, flushed and twitching with each ragged breath.
Ronen forced his heavy eyelids open and looked down. The voluminous skirts of the dress he wore swayed with every movement. Between the spread lace, a man’s polished shoes peeked out. Beneath the fabric, the man thrust upward, the wet, obscene sounds of flesh meeting flesh filling the air. Each movement sent jolts of pleasure through Ronen, his mind hazing over with every relentless stroke.
The man sucked his cock while simultaneously fingering him inside, and the dual stimulation sent waves of heat and pleasure crashing from his groin to the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t resist it, couldn’t ignore it—the pleasure was too intense, too overwhelming. In an instant, he was unraveling.
“…Nngh!”
The pleasure coiled tighter, tighter, his body trembling as he teetered on the edge of release—
And then, suddenly, everything stopped.
Panting against the wall, Ronen watched as the dress rustled. The man who had been hidden beneath the voluminous fabric emerged, his back turned. Before Ronen could process it, another man stood behind him, shoving his head down. His hips were forced backward, his back arched.
Hands yanked the dress up urgently, exposing his bare skin. The man spread his cheeks and pressed the thick, scorching heat of his cock against Ronen’s entrance. The sudden contact made his body tense instinctively.
“Spread your legs wider.”
The man’s voice was rough, impatient. When Ronen didn’t obey, he pulled back slightly—only to slam forward with brutal force.
“Hah—! Nngh! Ah—!”
The pleasure that had been building to a climax exploded in an instant, the intensity bordering on pain. The overwhelming sensation shattered what little rationality he had left. It was violent—a pleasure so intense it was almost cruel.
His toes curled, his entire body trembling, but the man showed no mercy, continuing to pound into his oversensitive depths. Drool spilled from his lips, trailing down his chin, and his eyes burned with unshed tears.
Ronen tried to crawl forward, desperate to escape the relentless cock spearing into him, but his face pressed against something cold and smooth. He had expected rough stone, but instead—
“Wondering what you look like?”
The man grabbed his chin and forced his head to turn. Ronen’s breath hitched.
In the mirror, he saw himself—a man in a dress, his chest flat, his hair short, his face twisted in pleasure as another man used him. The reflection was his own. The reality he had tried so hard to ignore crashed over him, and a suffocating wave of despair engulfed him.
He squeezed his eyes shut, but the man fisted his hair, yanking his head back. The pain made his vision blur, his breath coming in ragged gasps as the man continued to fuck him brutally. His body was pressed against the mirror now, his breath fogging the glass, his sweat leaving streaks where his hands had gripped.
“A man taking cock like this… how lewd.”
The voice in his ear was mocking, amused. The man tugged his hair again, forcing his head back. In the fogged mirror, Ronen’s face was twisted in agony—and something else. His muddled, green eyes darted around, unable to settle, unable to escape.
He tried to look away, but then he saw the man’s face—the one fucking him.
A smirk played on his lips.
“Truly the depravity of a sinner.”
Ronen gasped as if surfacing from drowning. The horrifying vision in the mirror vanished, replaced by the quiet stillness of dawn.
His heart pounded, his ears ringing. His entire body was drenched in sweat, the sheets clinging to his skin. He panted heavily, pressing his hands to his face as he realized—it had been a dream.
“Hah……”
A deep sigh escaped him. Relief? Guilt? He didn’t know which. The emotions swirled inside him, leaving his mind in chaos.
It had started as a memory—the day the Grand Duke had returned unexpectedly and taken him roughly without even letting him change. The way he had crawled under the dress, the way he had forced Ronen to look in the mirror—all of it had happened. So naturally, Ronen had assumed the man was the Grand Duke.
But then—
The face in the mirror wasn’t his.
“Eckart……”
The man who had been fucking him from behind, who had been so rough, so cruel—had transformed into Eckart.
Black hair. Blue eyes. The man who had always been so chaste, so devout—his face was now twisted with lust, his usually cold voice thick with desire. His lips, always pressed in prayer, now curled in a sneer as he mocked Ronen—the very sinner he had once offered prayers for.
“Why would he……”
Ronen murmured, his voice laced with despair. Then he noticed something strange and lifted the sheets. His lower body was wet—not with sweat, but with something else. He exhaled sharply. It seemed his nightmares had taken physical form. He had been so thoroughly ensnared that he had even—
He had dreamt of having sex with Eckart. Twice.
The guilt twisted his expression. He had tried so hard to resist temptation, to not fall into sin. And yet, here he was, committing acts so wicked they could never be forgiven. He was walking a path from which there was no return.
Before he could sink any further, he needed someone to hear his confession, to pray for him, to give him a chance at redemption.
Anyone—if only someone would comfort him in this agony—
After wiping himself down, Ronen sat hunched over in misery until dawn. Then, he knocked on the door, calling for a servant.
“Yes, sir?”
Osian entered at Ronen’s summons. Ronen whispered a request he would never normally make. Osian shook his head in alarm.
“I can’t. If the Grand Duke finds out, I—”
“Didn’t he say he would be away for a while?”
“Even so……”
Osian couldn’t hide his fear. Ronen began to persuade him.
“The Grand Duke won’t care as long as I don’t disappear. He won’t punish you for this—I’ll tell him you were forced. All the blame will fall on me.”
“But……”
“If you’re still afraid, put shackles on me. Stay by my side the entire time. If that’s not enough, bring the doorman along too.”
Osian hesitated, clearly conflicted. Ronen drove the point home.
“Osian… when was the last time you confessed? Are you content to carry your sins unabsolved?”
The fear of immediate punishment versus the fear of eternal damnation. Most would cling to their lives, terrified of what waited in the here and now—but those who saw life as penance and death as their only reward feared the after far more.
Osian was no different. Ronen’s words struck deep.
“……You’re sure he won’t find out?”
“Even if he does, as long as I’m here, he won’t be too angry. He’ll understand this much.”
“If that’s true……”
Fear gave way to greater fear. Osian nodded grimly and turned to leave, saying he would call for a carriage. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he asked,
“But…… what will you wear?”
Ronen was always in sleepwear, never allowed outside. He didn’t even own proper outer garments. The realization seemed to strike Ronen as well. For a moment, he was at a loss. Then, his voice trembled with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.
“There must be something I can wear.”
“But…… the only clothes you’ve worn lately are all dresses.”
“What about the gifts? There must be other things. Bring them all.”
Osian hurried out of the room. When he returned, his arms were piled high with extravagant clothes and accessories. The problem? Not a single piece was normal.
Even the men’s clothing was either formal tailcoats, riding habits, or barely-there scraps of fabric. There were foreign garments, and—God forbid—even a priest’s robe.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
