#liwes

[96nebula20]

he mine →chapter 4

soon🔥

[96nebula20]

Over time, Dorian's relationship with Liwes grew noticeably closer, so much so that even the palace servants noticed. One morning, a maid entered Liwes 's room. "Young master, His Majesty requests your presence for dinner in the designated hall." Liwes was surprised and flustered. Since his arrival, he hadn't been permitted to dine with anyone. He walked slowly toward the dining hall, feeling extremely nervous. As soon as he arrived, a guard bowed and opened the door for him. Dorian's gaze, which had been fixed on him since he heard his footsteps, met Liwes 's. He remained motionless, unsure whether he was allowed to sit or not.

"Why are you standing there? Come and sit." He pulled out a chair to sit down, but Dorian's voice stopped him. "No, come and sit here." He gestured to his side. Liwes thought he meant the nearest chair, but as soon as he approached, Dorian pulled him by the waist and sat him on his lap. Liwes gasped at this action. His body tensed. He hadn't expected such closeness, even though sitting there wouldn't hurt him.

"Let me sit on the chair, please," he pleaded, hoping Dorian would respond and put him down.

"No, stay here with me. I won't hurt you. I'm just going to feed you."

Dorian's hand was on his stomach, holding him down so he wouldn't slip away, while he fed him with his other hand.

Liwes could barely swallow. He was scared. Between bites, he begged Dorian to put him down, but Dorian's cold refusal only met his pleas.

He finished feeding him, but didn't put him down. He held him tighter, pulling him closer by the shoulders. Liwes was tense, trying to break free from Dorian's embrace, but Dorian's shout stopped him: "Stop moving! I'm not hurting you. I just want you by my side."

"And I don't! You're scaring me!" "I don't want you near me."

It was just one word, a small word, but it was the beginning. Everything changed for Lewis. He never expected his life to be turned upside down by a word he uttered in a moment of fear.

Dorian pulled him down and ordered him to leave. That coldness and that tone terrified Louis more than anything.

In the following days, Dorian became increasingly cruel and controlling. He was like a leash around Lewis 's neck, dictating the smallest things.

"Don't leave your room."

"Don't wear that."

"Keep your head down when you walk."

"Don't smile at the guards."

"Stay close to me, don't go far."

He also stared at him for long periods. He wouldn't let him sleep alone. He would spend hours at night staring at him. He forbade him from going out. He forbade him from speaking to his maids.

During those times, whenever Lewis cried, Dorian grew angrier. Even Liwes 's pleas to be let go were in vain. Dorian would listen, believing he was doing the right thing.

As time passed, Liwes began to hate two things: Dorian when he was near, and the loneliness and emptiness when he was alone.

One day, Lewis was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for him.

When he heard Dorian's footsteps approaching, he got up. As soon as Dorian opened the door, Lewis jumped up and ran out, but Dorian's hand caught him firmly.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to get out!"

"No."

"Why not?" "You've kept me locked up in here for so long."

"I said no, and I mean no."

He hoisted him onto his shoulder and threw him onto the bed. Then he knelt over him and pulled the covers over him. Lewis almost screamed, but Dorian silenced him by placing a hand over his mouth.

"Listen to me carefully. I'm tired and worn out from sitting in the office for hours on end. I didn't come here to listen to your daily complaints. You'll turn your back and go to sleep, and then I won't hear a word from you." He left him like that and lay down on the other side of the bed. Lewis shrank back in fear, the man's shouts still ringing in his ears. He wept silently over his miserable situation.

[96nebula20]

In the mornings, he wasn't allowed to leave his room. Everything was brought to him—food, clothes, everything. Even when he wanted to bathe, they prepared everything for him without him asking. Yet, fear still lingered. So far, Dorian hadn't forced him to do anything. But he watched his every move, those small gestures that melted his heart: the way he ate, the way he slept, how he curled up in his sleep, how he flinched at the touch, how he avoided looking at him.

All these actions made something grow inside him:

"Obsession."

After a long time, he was allowed to go out, but not without the watchful eyes of two maids: one accompanying him and the other observing from a distance, ready for anything.

As time passed, curious onlookers surrounded him, bombarding him with questions: "Why did you marry His Majesty?"

"Aren't you younger than him? How did you marry him?"

"Did he sleep with you? Did he kiss you?" "Did he force you to marry him?"

These questions bombarded him all at once, and he didn't know how to answer. But in that moment, he felt warm breath on his neck, and when he turned, he saw Dorian.

Meanwhile, Dorian was inhaling his alluring scent, without noticing. He pulled him close, growling at those who were harassing Liwes with their words. They didn't notice him until he emerged from the darkness.

They were frightened by his growl and ran away. Meanwhile, Liwes felt him pull him by the waist, drawing him closer. Liwes was terrified. But Dorian's feelings were indescribable; he loved the feel of his hands against Liwes 's slender waist.

He spoke to him without looking up: "If anyone bothers you again, don't hesitate to tell me."

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

He returned to his room after the incident, but he could still feel the touch of his hand on his waist, and that terrified him.

Meanwhile, Dorian was wrestling with his inner demon.

They were both fighting over the same thing: Liwes.

The demon wanted his body, and Dorian said it wasn't the right time.

Liwes was moving away from Dorian, while Dorian was moving closer.

As time passed, Dorian's approach became driven by an obsession and a possessive feeling that had taken hold of him.

The phrase "Mine, mine alone" began to trouble him.

It was repeated so often that he even watched it while sitting in his chair as the boy slept.

Bedtime was the perfect time for Dorian to touch Liwes as he pleased. A touch that wasn't intrusive, but rather gentle, at the very least. He would stroke his cheek, stroke his hair, and kiss his fingertips softly so as not to wake him. Perhaps he was kissing his soft, rosy cheek, or his reddened lips, or his hair.

Ah, his hair, how I long to touch it. To stroke it.

And the beast waits to possess the little deer

[davegreber]

♎️at the studio of @ebonimages ✳️ #thewrapparadigm aka #Liwes aka #чебуреки #чебурашка #ericwaters (at Joan Mitchell Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8NAuGkF2TS/?igshid=uqs8kvnlz7g0