Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 181: Unrelenting [M]

Chapter 181: Unrelenting [M]

The Remiro estate was cloaked in the serene quiet of the night. In her cradle beside Mona’s bed, baby Mirelle slept soundly, blissfully unaware of the world around her. The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting silvery patterns on the walls, as if blessing the innocence of her dreams.

Yet, mere rooms away, a storm of passion was unfolding, far from innocent.

Thorne’s sweat-drenched body gleamed in the faint lamp light, his movements deliberate and primal. His hips snapped forward with relentless intensity, each thrust drawing cries from Noelle that echoed through the walls. Noelle was on his knees, his back arched beautifully as he braced himself against the headboard, his raven hair clinging to his damp skin. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, accompanied by Noelle’s pleas and gasps that any servant wandering nearby would struggle to ignore.

Thorne’s focus was absolute. His sharp features were shadowed with concentration, every muscle taut as he poured his strength into the motion of his hips and the firm grip on Noelle’s slender waist. His breathing was ragged, his deep grunts mixing with Noelle’s cries as they moved together in a frenzied rhythm.

Hours passed, yet their hunger only seemed to deepen. At some point, the roles reversed, and Noelle straddled Thorne, his thighs trembling as he took control. His movements were fluid yet desperate, riding Thorne with a determination that left them both breathless. Thorne leaned back against the headboard, his eyes dark with unrestrained adoration as he watched Noelle lose himself in the rhythm. The sight of Noelle’s flushed face, his glistening skin, and his hair swaying with each motion held Thorne captive. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, mesmerized by the raw beauty of his husband’s abandon.

"Noelle," Thorne whispered, his voice hoarse and dripping with longing. His hands moved to Noelle’s hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he helped guide the motion, ensuring every movement drove them closer to the edge.

Later, the positions shifted again. Thorne had Noelle on his back, utterly at his mercy. Thorne’s slender fingers trailed wickedly over Noelle’s trembling form, teasing and coaxing reactions that had Thorne growling with need. He leaned over, his dark eyes aflame as his lips took Noelle’s length into his mouth with a fervor that bordered on worship. His fingers roamed lower, pressing against Noelle’s most sensitive spot, and the sound that escaped Noelle was almost animalistic.

"Gods, Thorne," Noelle gasped, his fists clenching the sheets beneath him as his body arched off the bed. The world dissolved around him until there was only Thorne—Thorne’s skilled mouth, his teasing fingers, and the unrelenting heat of his touch.

The night spiraled on in a haze of desire. They lost themselves completely, the boundaries of time and identity blurring as they surrendered to the demands of their bodies. Like animals driven by instinct, they clawed and clung to one another, each desperate to imprint themselves on the other, to make up for every night they’d been apart.

Noelle, breathless and trembling, begged for mercy each time. "Thorne, please, it’s enough," he would cry, only to find himself moments later pleading for more. His body betrayed him, moving of its own accord to meet Thorne’s expert thrusts. Thorne, for his part, seemed tireless, his stamina unyielding as he pushed them both beyond the limits of exhaustion.

When Noelle finally collapsed, his body spent and trembling, Thorne held him close, their tangled limbs slick with sweat. "You’re mine," Thorne murmured against Noelle’s temple, his voice soft but possessive, as if he could etch the words into Noelle’s very soul.

Noelle, too dazed to respond, merely hummed in agreement, his head nestled against Thorne’s chest. Their breathing slowed, the room falling into a rare moment of quiet. Yet, even as they drifted toward the edges of sleep, there was an unspoken understanding between them—this was far from over. The night was young, and their desire an unquenchable flame.

As the first rays of dawn crept into the room, painting the walls in soft hues of gold and pink, Thorne released deep inside Noelle for what felt like the hundredth time that night. His chest rose and fell with deep, labored breaths, the exertion of the hours prior finally catching up with him. He lingered in that moment, his hands resting possessively on Noelle’s hips, as his gaze trailed down to where their bodies had been joined.

The sight before him was obscene and beautiful all at once—a testament to their passion. The mingling of their fluids glistened in the dim light, slipping slowly from Noelle’s overworked body as Thorne pulled out. For a fleeting moment, guilt flickered in his chest. Did I go too far? he wondered. The evidence of his insatiable hunger for his husband lay scattered across the bed in the disheveled sheets, the faint lingering scent of sweat, and the bruises and marks he had left on Noelle’s fair skin.

He shifted his focus to Noelle’s face, half-expecting a complaint or at least a groggy reprimand. Instead, Noelle was utterly still, his chest rising and falling rhythmically in deep sleep. His lips were parted slightly, a faint snore escaping every now and then. The tension in Thorne’s body melted away at the sight, and he couldn’t help but smile.

"My beloved," he whispered, his voice soft and reverent. Still, there was no response. Noelle was completely lost to the embrace of slumber, too exhausted to even murmur.

Thorne chuckled quietly, the sound a mix of amusement and affection. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of raven hair from Noelle’s flushed face. "You’re going to be furious with me when you wake up," he murmured, already imagining the scolding he’d receive. His grin widened at the thought. "I’ll just have to make it up to you."

For now, though, there was peace—a rare, cherished tranquility that Thorne wanted to savor. He carefully moved from the bed, his muscles aching slightly as he reached for the basin of water and cloth left on the nearby table, he got from the bathroom.Returning to Noelle’s side, he gently began cleaning his husband’s body, wiping away the remnants of their passion with tender care. Each stroke of the cloth felt like an act of devotion, his fingers lingering over every mark he had left, every place that bore the evidence of their love.

Noelle stirred slightly, murmuring incoherently but never waking. Thorne’s movements stilled as he watched, a warm surge of affection blooming in his chest. How did I ever deserve you? he thought, his expression softening as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Noelle’s temple.

Once Noelle was clean and tucked snugly beneath the blankets, Thorne set about tidying the room. His own exhaustion was evident in the slight droop of his shoulders, but the contentment he felt far outweighed his fatigue. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was at peace.

Climbing back into bed, Thorne wrapped his arms protectively around Noelle, pulling him close. He buried his face in Noelle’s hair, inhaling the familiar scent that always seemed to calm him. "Rest well, my star," he murmured, his voice barely audible as sleep finally claimed him.