Since that day, Riu had been hounded by nightmares.
For several nights in a row a man appeared, climbed on top of him, and looked down.
In a voice low and oddly sultry, the man called his name.
Moonlight leaking through the window made the man’s lips gleam as though coated in oil.
Under the softly folding eyelid Riu noticed a tiny tear-mole.
Overcome by an urge to touch, Riu raised a hand to the man’s face.
As he slowly stroked the cheek, the man’s lashes trembled, so pretty that Riu murmured, “Beautiful.”
The man gave a soft chuckle. Catching the hand that lingered on his cheek, he asked, “Who am I?”
He smelled of drink, yet his face looked perfectly sober; Riu felt like the truly drunken one.
Riu hurriedly pulled his hand free, but the man’s broad palm came to his forehead, brushing back his tousled hair with a touch so warm and gentle it eased his heart. Riu, feeling pleasant, lowered his gaze.
“Riu, listen well. My name is…”
Riu lifted his head to hear. When their eyes met, the man smiled softly. “Matthew Davir. That’s my name.”
Green eyes between slender lids grew heavy with heat, ready to spill desire.
Under that lascivious gaze a short moan slipped from Riu.
Answering that reaction, the man pressed his nose to the base of Riu’s throat; damp breath brushed like lips.
“Riu…”
The voice had turned eerie, prickling his skin and muddling his mind.
Vision dimmed as the man’s lips settled on his neck.
Yet before he could fully feel that soft, pliant touch, Riu woke—having wet himself, something he’d never done even in puberty.
The shame felt like being spied upon. Of all people, his first wet dream had starred Matthew.
Recalling the night, Riu slammed his book shut.
Days of fitful sleep had left his nerves frayed; so on edge he’d holed up indoors for several days.
“…Hoo.”
With a small sigh, he pressed the aching corners of his eyes.
Dark circles shadowed them. His cheeks had grown a little hollow.
The dull pull in his neck finally made him rise.
He stretched but the weariness clung.
Whenever he paused, the dream replayed, stoking restless heat; the warmth pooling below his waist shamed him.
Pressure tightened around his thighs, and he bit his lip.
Just as he was about to slip a hand into his trousers, a knock sounded.
“Come in.”
Pressing close to the desk, he answered dryly.
Nick stepped in and bowed.
“You have a visitor, young master.”
“A visitor…?”
Hardly anyone visited: only René or Albert, and never unannounced.
Puzzled, he nodded. “Show them to the parlor. I’ll be right down.”
“Yes, sir.”
Once Nick left, Riu pushed back his chair.
A furtive glance downward showed things had calmed. Patting his flushed cheeks, he stood.
At the half-open window he looked below.
Talking with Nick was, of all people, Matthew Davir, the very man he’d just been fantasizing about.
“What? Why is Matthew…?”
His pupils shook like trees in a storm and his heart plummeted like a caught thief’s.
Holding a shallow breath, he tracked Matthew with his eyes.
Perhaps sensing something, Matthew stopped before following Nick inside and looked up.
Riu ducked beneath the sill, pressing flat to the wall.
“Calm down, calm down.”
He breathed deep then risked a peek. Matthew had already entered the house.
Relief made him slump to the floor and rap himself on the head.
Could Matthew have remembered?
Eyes trembling like reeds in a gale, Riu steadied himself and hurried to the parlor.
Nick opened the door at once.
Seated on the sofa, Matthew exuded such native nobility the large portrait behind him vanished from sight.
Am I going mad?
Blinking, Riu finally noticed the portrait. Something had clearly come over him.
“Riu.”
Matthew rose.
He was on Riu in two strides, forcing Riu back. That closeness still felt predatory.
“What brings you here? You didn’t send word…”
“Just passing by and thought I’d stop in.”
They weren’t that close yet Matthew’s friendliness never faltered, even against Riu’s wary retreat.
“Shall we sit?”
Riu sat first, awkward. Matthew followed with easy grace, eyes glinting coolly as they roved over him—something Riu missed while shifting his own eyes in nervous habit.
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“It’s not that… just surprised…”
“I thought if I warned you, you’d run.”
“Run?”
“I’ll call next time. Will that be all right?”
The gentle tone still sounded like You won’t run, right?
Riu answered with an awkward smile.
“You should visit my place next time.”
“If time allows, I will.”
“And when will you invite me to your room?”
“My room?”
They’d barely talked a handful of times. The request flustered him.
Matthew only smiled, clearly pleased.
“I trust you’ll invite me soon. I’ll look forward to it, Riu.”
“…”
“Don’t worry. I’ll invite you into my room as well.”
The words were harmless, yet his mouth went dry.
When he hesitated, Matthew’s gaze urged him on.
“Riu, you need to answer.”
“W-well…”
“Just say yes. That’s all you have to do, Riu.”
The voice was plain, almost bland, but the eyes were so intense a chill crawled up his spine.
“Yes…”
Only then did Matthew’s mouth relax.
Riu couldn’t meet those gently curved eyes, fidgeting with his fingers instead.
Silence settled so deep the curtains’ faint rustle could be heard.
Biting his lip, Riu pressed a nail to his fingertip.
Seeing the unease, Matthew asked softly,
“Why do you look so pale?”
“Ah… I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
“Why?”
“Huh?”
Asked for a reason, he had none he could give. He couldn’t blame the man before him.
As he faltered, Matthew stood, drawing Riu’s gaze upward.
“At times like that, a massage helps. Let me give you one.”
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