Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 164 - 159: Temptation (1)

Chapter 164: Chapter 159: Temptation (1)

Gabriel was still awake.

Damian paused in the doorway, momentarily invisible in the shadow, watching the shape of him lit by firelight and the soft ether-glow from the bedside sconce.

Gabriel was half-reclined in bed—his bed, their bed now—wrapped in nothing but a loosely knotted white robe. One shoulder was bare, his collarbone catching the flickering light like sculpture, the rest of him sunk into rumpled sheets that looked like they’d been fought with, not made. A report rested on his lap, official seal broken, though from the absent tilt of his gaze, he hadn’t read a word in some time.

"You took your time," Gabriel said without looking up.

"You’re still awake," Damian replied, voice quieter now, almost warm.

"Edward gave me tasks. Said I should start ’being useful’." Gabriel made a vague gesture with the parchment. "Apparently, lounging in royal linens doesn’t count as policy experience."

Damian moved inside, setting his gloves on the low table near the door and unfastening his coat with slow, practiced fingers. "He’s not wrong."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "You’re supposed to defend me."

"I’m defending the empire. You just happen to be under that jurisdiction."

Gabriel laughed under his breath and turned another page, only to stop mid-scan when Damian approached the bed.

"You’ve read that line three times," Damian noted.

Gabriel shifted, pressing back into the pillows. "I was waiting to see what mood you were in."

Damian rested one hand on the edge of the mattress, the other still ungloved, fingers curled loosely at his side. "And?"

Gabriel studied him. "Neutral. Calculated. Possibly tired. Definitely scheming."

"All accurate," Damian said. Then paused.

The fire crackled softly behind him, filling the silence.

"You waited... for me?" Damian asked, tilting his head, a slow smirk forming on his lips. "In this?"

His gaze swept over Gabriel, deliberate, heavy with intent.

Gabriel didn’t flinch.

He sat upright in the bed, one leg half-draped in the sheets, robe barely tied, skin lit in soft amber tones by the firelight. His expression was calm, but there was a flicker of amusement behind his dark eyes, a challenge quietly taking root.

"I said I’d wait," he replied. "I didn’t say I’d be fully clothed while doing it."

Damian exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. "That explains why Edward nearly saluted when I walked past him outside the chamber. I think he believes this is a test of my restraint."

Gabriel stretched lazily, arms rising overhead for a moment before settling behind his head. The shift of fabric left even less to the imagination.

"Is it?"

Damian stepped closer. His coat was already off, his sleeves pushed back, gold eyes lit more by hunger than firelight now.

"You think I have restraint left after today?" Damian asked, his voice low, his words brushing the space between them like a promise wrapped in smoke.

Gabriel didn’t respond.

Not with words.

Instead, he stretched—slowly, luxuriously—like a cat lounging in the warmth of a sun-drenched room. The robe slipped further down his body, baring the smooth line of his shoulder and the sharp cut of his hipbone. Every movement was deliberate, taunting without urgency. He arched his back just enough to make Damian’s jaw tense, then rolled lazily onto his side to face him, head resting on one hand, golden firelight catching in the depths of his dark eyes.

And that smirk—that curved, knowing thing—cut sharper than any blade.

"I see," Damian murmured, still in front of the fireplace, watching him as though deciding between worship and conquest. "You’re trying to make this worse."

Gabriel arched a brow. "Worse for whom?"

Damian’s answer came in silence.

stead of lunging forward, instead of claiming what was already laid out for him, he moved with the kind of slow control that made Gabriel’s pulse stutter.

One knee sank into the mattress, followed by the other, every inch of him clad in the rich fabric of his dark clothes—coat still fastened, boots still laced. The sheer contrast of it sent something electric skimming down Gabriel’s spine. Damian looked like sin in restraint: the Emperor in full, elegant armor, descending not for war—but for him.

Gabriel lay there, bare beneath the loosely draped robe, marked by sleep and scent and memory. The firelight painted him in hues of gold and shadow, his skin flushed in places still aching from the night before.

Damian hovered above him, hand braced beside Gabriel’s head, his body angled over him without touching.

Not yet.

His eyes roamed Gabriel’s face, down to the exposed shoulder, the curve of his waist, and the teasing edge of the robe that had shifted again with Gabriel’s stretch.

"You knew what you were doing," Damian said quietly. Not accusing. Just a fact.

Gabriel didn’t deny it.

His smirk lingered, slow and satisfied. "And you’re still fully dressed."

Damian’s gaze sharpened. "That’s your punishment."

Gabriel raised a brow, amused. "For what?"

"For looking like that and expecting me to have manners."

Damian’s words were low, but they vibrated through Gabriel’s chest like the first strike of a match, intimate, warning, inevitable. His scent was already driving him mad.

"I’m dressed exactly the same as I was a few hours ago."

Damian didn’t respond with words.

Instead, he closed the space between them with devastating slowness, his lips brushing against Gabriel’s in a kiss that was neither hurried nor gentle—it was decisive. Possessive. The kind of kiss that left no room for doubt about who he was and what Gabriel was to him.

Gabriel’s breath caught. One hand rose instinctively to rest against Damian’s chest, fingers splaying over layers of fabric still perfectly in place. He could feel the steady rhythm of Damian’s heart beneath the cloth—calm, controlled, maddeningly unfazed.

The Emperor had not removed a single article of clothing.

Damian kissed him again, deeper this time, with more heat. His gloved hand slid from Gabriel’s shoulder down to the knot at the robe’s waist, finding it with ease. His fingers moved slowly, deliberately, untying the sash with a fluid motion as his lips dragged across Gabriel’s jaw, then down his throat.

The robe loosened instantly, falling open with an exhale of linen against skin.

Gabriel shifted, drawing in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering half shut as Damian’s mouth found the hollow of his collarbone. His hands fisted into the sheets for a moment, unsure of where to hold on; there was nothing grounded about Damian when he wanted something. He simply took.

"You’re overdressed," Gabriel murmured against his cheek.

"I like the contrast." Damian replied, his voice dark as silk, his breath hot where it ghosted against bare skin.