Unchosen Crown

BREATHE AGAIN

Oliver definitely didn't know what he was doing.

Ian carried the room key card, and Oliver followed reluctantly, his heart pounding in his chest. Ian seemed more sober now, but his steps still occasionally wavered.

The beep of the door echoed in the silent hallway. Ian held the door open for Oliver, who hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The luxury of the room enveloped them immediately — golden and cream tones on the walls, a majestic four-poster bed in the center. He had never set foot in there before.

Ian closed the door softly, his steps echoing on the marble floor. Oliver remained with his back turned, unsure of how to act or what to say. It was Ian who broke the silence, his voice carrying a familiarity that made Oliver shiver.

"I wish I could offer you a drink."

His naturally seductive voice made Oliver close his eyes for a moment as he walked to the large windows, partially hidden by silk curtains.

"I think you've had enough to drink," Oliver replied, trying to keep his tone casual.

Ian's soft laugh filled the air, a light, effervescent sound bubbling from his throat.

"You haven't," Ian noted, keeping a generous distance.

Oliver finally turned to face him.

Ian had discarded his jacket, and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of the tanned skin that Oliver had missed so much.

"I didn't plan this part very well," Ian admitted, his nervousness evident in his slightly hunched posture and the slight sway of his body back and forth.

"This whole day was unplanned," Oliver observed with a restrained voice, swallowing repeatedly.

A seriousness took over Ian's expression as his eyes traveled over Oliver's body, finally meeting his gaze.

"I didn't get a chance to say that you look very attractive with your hair longer. It suits you," he added with an almost innocent sincerity, but Oliver's heart raced as he searched for a suitable response, absorbing the compliment.

"I don't know how to react to that," Oliver replied, feeling a familiar wave of pleasurable embarrassment bubbling within him — the shame of being appreciated, yet delighting in it at the same time.

"Just learn how to accept a compliment," Ian teased, a rare serenity in his amber eyes, his words evoking a vivid memory.

Oliver felt his body warm with the memory.

Even from a distance, Oliver could feel the heat emanating from Ian's body like a magnet, a gravitational pull that irresistibly drew him closer. Every breath brought with it an intoxicating fragrance that rekindled physical memories of bodies united in perfect harmony, ravenous kisses that set their souls on fire, warm glances like the one Ian was offering him at that moment.

When Ian displayed a shy smile, revealing adorable dimples, Oliver felt his entire world melt into surrender.

"Thank you," he managed to say, taking a hesitant step forward. A simple gesture, yet capable of calming his deepest anxieties like a gentle caress. Oliver looked at Ian and, for the first time in a long time, saw him stripped of all the layers he used to protect himself. The image of the powerful and ruthless man of yore gave way to a vulnerable being, with eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and something deeper, something almost inaudible but visceral. "It seems the drink has impaired your flirting skills," Oliver teased, his voice huskier than he intended.

Ian took a step forward, the distance between them shrinking. His eyes were now two open windows, revealing a hesitant tenderness that immediately ensnared Oliver. Ian's soft voice cut through the silence like a sweet melody.