CHAPTER 470: ’LONGING.’

"Y-Your Majesty? You’re starting to worry me..." Heinz heard Florian say softly. "Did something happen?"

Why?

Why did his tone sound so different?

Heinz kept replaying the two memories with the original Florian that had resurfaced—those fleeting moments that still burned behind his eyes.

Has his current Florian always sounded so... indifferent?

He did sound worried.

But it was... different.

He couldn’t understand.

And that alone made his chest ache all the more.

From guilt.

From... longing.

Heinz... was longing?

Or was it yearning?

Were they the same thing?

He already knew he loved Florian, but... seeing those memories—memories he had forgotten—he longed to remember, and more than that, he longed to live them again.

"Your Majesty—"

Heinz’s hands slid to Florian’s shoulders, gently pushing him back from their embrace. He saw the flicker of confusion in Florian’s eyes, the way his lips parted as if to speak—only for Heinz to silence him by crushing their mouths together.

Florian’s startled gasp was lost between them, swallowed as Heinz kissed him hard, almost desperately.

"Mhm... mhmm..." Florian tried to speak, but the sound melted into a breathless moan against Heinz’s lips.

’More.’

Heinz’s mind burned, his fingers already slipping beneath the layers of Florian’s clothing, palms meeting bare skin—torso, waist—greedy for every inch. I want more.

He wanted to feel all of him. To memorize the shape of his body, the heat of his skin, as though it would anchor him to the present.

His tongue slid past Florian’s lips without hesitation, tangling with his, pressing until there was no space left between them.

"Hngh..." Florian’s soft, broken sound only spurred him to deepen the kiss until they were both breathless.

’I need him. I want more. I need more.’

Florian.

Florian.

Florian.

God, Florian.

How could it be possible to want someone so much that it hurt?

It ached in his chest, sharp and raw—yet the taste of him made it feel unbearably sweet.

Without breaking the kiss, Heinz guided them backward until he sat on the couch, pulling Florian onto his lap, their mouths still locked in a fevered press.

Florian clung to his shoulders, breath stuttering. "Hah... Your Majesty... I... I can’t breathe..."

But Heinz only tightened his hold, unwilling to let him go.

Flashes of those forgotten memories flared in his mind—the original Florian’s soft words, the tears in his eyes, the trembling I love you’s.

God, how he missed it. How he wished this Florian would say those words too.

Would look at him like that.

Didn’t his Florian love him too?

He had to.

Because now Heinz knew—he wanted it. He needed it.

He yearned for it.

He longed for it.

"Florian," Heinz groaned against his lips, catching the prince’s bottom lip between his teeth until Florian whimpered. "Florian, I want to be inside you."

"B-But... Your Majesty, Cashew’s outside," Florian gasped as Heinz’s mouth left his, only to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the pale column of his neck—sucking, biting, branding him with marks.

"He can wait," Heinz murmured against his skin, voice low, almost dangerous.

He needed Florian.

Needed proof that this Florian was his.

But it was different.

So different from the memories.

Different from everything.

He used to love their differences.

So why did it hurt now?

Why?

"Florian... let me go inside you," Heinz whispered again, his teeth grazing over the curve of Florian’s shoulder before biting down just enough to make him cry out.

"A-Ah!" Florian shuddered. "Your Majesty... you seem... you... are you okay?"

He’d already asked that.

And Heinz still couldn’t say no.

Couldn’t say yes either.

He just wanted him.

So he said nothing.

His hands gripped Florian’s hips, urging him down to grind against him.

They both moaned at the friction.

"Does that feel good?" Heinz asked, his breath ragged. When Florian stayed silent, Heinz’s voice dropped lower, sharper. "Florian, does that feel good? Answer me."

"Y-Yes..." Florian’s voice was barely above a whisper.

"I need you to say it louder, Ilúvarei." Heinz groaned, almost commandingly.

Florian’s grip on his shoulders tightened as Heinz rolled his hips upward, forcing another gasp from him. "Y-Yes... Yes..."

"Good boy." Heinz praised, watching the way Florian’s body tensed.

Oh?

"Do you like getting praised like that?"

"N-No...!" Florian answered too fast, too defensive. Heinz didn’t need to see his face to know his ears were burning red.

Heinz pulled away from Florian, his breath still uneven, just to take in his face. Florian’s eyes were slightly glossy, lashes trembling. His lips were flushed pink from the kissing, parted just enough for shallow breaths to escape. A soft sheen of moisture caught on his skin in the dim light.

’God, he’s so beautiful.’

His hand twitched, wanting—aching—to touch Florian’s face, to trace the lines he had memorized a hundred times.

But suddenly—

"I got molested and you ignored me!" Florian’s voice broke into a cry, the sound raw and jagged. "Don’t you remember that? I kept calling and calling, and now you come into my room like nothing happened—not even mentioning it!"

The words hit him like a blow to the chest. The memory of the original Florian crying—truly crying—flashed before his eyes, and Heinz froze.

’Why am I seeing this again...?’

His current Florian stared at him, confusion flickering in his gaze.

"You... you’re breaking my heart over and over," Florian continued, voice trembling, "making me look crazy, and you’re acting like you don’t even know."

The memory sharpened again.

The original Florian—tear-streaked, trembling—overlapped perfectly with the man now on his lap.

"Your Majesty—"

"YOUR MAJESTY!"

The memories came in jolts, glitching between then and now. His breath quickened, hands trembling as he gripped Florian’s arm without realizing.

"Your Majesty?" Florian’s voice wavered, but another voice layered over it.

"Heinz... do you know how much hatred I have for you right now?"

"Florian..." Heinz whispered, his hand shaking harder.

"...I still love you."

"Florian, I’m—"

But his Florian was shaking him now, calling for him again.

"Your Majesty? Your Majesty, hey. What’s—" His words blurred into noise, fading into the echo of another memory.

"Why did you kill me?!"

"Florian, I’m so..."

Then—

That face.

That broken expression.

The quiet, resigned acceptance of death.

The memory of the original Florian’s execution. Heinz could see it all again—how he had looked at him for the last time.

Florian’s lips moved.

They moved.

"....."

But Heinz couldn’t hear it.

What did he say?What did he say?What did he say?!

"You don’t even remember everything, do you? My last words to you before my dea—"

"Your Majesty!!!"

The sharp sting on his cheek jolted him back. He blinked once, twice—

And there was Florian, his Florian, staring at him. Horror and something like pain swam in his eyes.

"Florian?" Heinz breathed, his voice almost breaking.

"Please... please let me go." Florian’s voice was small, shaking.

Heinz’s gaze dropped—and his stomach turned cold.

Bruises. Fresh and deepening along Florian’s arm.

Bruises from his own grip.