Chapter 98: First

Chapter 98: Chapter 98: First

"Sebastian."

Nero’s voice reached him from somewhere beside the bed.

Sebastian opened his eyes again and found the prince standing close enough that the ends of his long white-blond hair had fallen forward over one shoulder, perfectly straight and absurdly glossy beneath the morning light coming through the curtains.

For several seconds, Sebastian simply stared at it.

Nero’s hair had always been offensive.

There was far too much of it, it behaved better than anyone’s hair had a right to, and despite everything the man did to himself—training, flying across countries, forgetting to sleep, occasionally setting things on fire—it remained smooth enough that Sebastian had privately concluded Nero could abandon royal life tomorrow and earn an unreasonable fortune advertising hair products.

Nero touched his forehead.

"You’re awake."

Sebastian’s gaze followed the pale strands slipping over Nero’s wrist.

Long.

Exactly where they belonged.

Nothing like the Nero from the dream.

That Nero had worn his hair short, had climbed over Sebastian’s body with the ease of someone who had done it hundreds of times, and had kissed a bond mark beneath his ear as though it were as familiar as his own skin.

Four years.

They had been together for four years in that life.

And they had very clearly been having sex.

Often enough that dream-Nero apparently considered waking Sebastian by removing his clothes an entirely normal part of their morning routine.

Sebastian stared at the real Nero.

The virgin Nero.

The contrast struck him so abruptly that his mouth curved.

Nero’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"That expression is concerning."

Sebastian pushed himself higher against the pillows, the sheets sliding down to his waist while the lingering fog of sleep gradually gave way to curiosity.

"Have you kissed anyone?"

Nero went still.

The question had clearly not been anywhere on the list of possibilities he had prepared for when approaching the bed.

"What?"

"Before me."

Nero lowered his hand from Sebastian’s forehead.

"You have been awake for approximately one minute."

"I’m aware."

"And this is the first subject you chose."

"Yes."

Nero studied him, perhaps checking for fever, residual confusion, or some new neurological symptom Roberta had neglected to warn them about.

Sebastian waited.

Eventually, Nero answered.

"No."

Sebastian blinked.

"No relationships, no sex, and no kissing?"

"No."

"Not even once?"

Nero’s expression developed a faint edge of injured dignity.

"You seem unusually invested in confirming the extent of my inexperience."

Sebastian could not help it.

He grinned.

The dream returned with extraordinary clarity: short hair between his fingers, Nero’s mouth against his neck, the casual familiarity of hands that knew Sebastian’s body without needing permission explained every time because permission had already become part of their life together.

Then there was this Nero.

The man who could flirt without shame, speak about possession as though it were a perfectly reasonable lifestyle choice, and look at Sebastian across a room with enough intensity to make half the population uncomfortable.

And Sebastian had been his first kiss.

Something warm and deeply possessive curled unexpectedly beneath Sebastian’s ribs.

He liked that.

Far more than he probably should.

"When?" Nero asked.

Sebastian’s attention returned to him.

"When what?"

"When did my lack of previous kissing experience become this entertaining?"

"Just now."

"That explains very little."

"It explains enough."

Sebastian pushed the blankets aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the thick carpet warm beneath his bare feet. He still wore the dark sleep trousers and loose shirt from the night before, while Nero had already dressed for the day in tailored black trousers and a pale charcoal shirt with the first two buttons open.

His hair remained the problem.

Sebastian reached out as he stood and caught one long section between his fingers.

Nero allowed it, watching him with increasing suspicion.

Sebastian ran the pale strands through his hand.

"You’re keeping this."

Nero raised one eyebrow.

"I had not planned to shave my head before the party."

"I mean permanently."

"That sounds territorial."

Sebastian released his hair.

"You’ll survive."

Nero’s mouth curved.

There was satisfaction in the expression, and Sebastian knew perfectly well why. Nero enjoyed every small indication that Sebastian had developed preferences about him, especially when those preferences implied a future long enough for permanently to matter.

Sebastian walked toward the dressing room.

Behind him, Nero remained beside the bed.

"You still haven’t explained the interrogation."

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder.

The dream was still too strange to discuss.

Too intimate.

Too much like a memory rather than imagination, especially after the other visions he had already experienced.

And he certainly was not going to tell Nero that another version of him had been shamelessly trying to undress Sebastian before breakfast.

The man would become intolerable.

Instead, Sebastian smiled.

"I have a gift for you."

Nero’s entire attention sharpened.

"My birthday gift?"

"After the party."

That produced exactly the reaction Sebastian expected.

Interest flashed across Nero’s face first, followed almost immediately by delight, because apparently the idea that Sebastian had planned something specifically for him was enough to make the Crown Prince of Saha visibly happier before he even knew what it was.

"What kind of gift?"

"You’ll find out afterward."

Nero followed him toward the dressing room.

Sebastian laughed quietly.

"No."

"I only asked a question."

"And you are already following me."

"I live here."

"You were standing perfectly comfortably by the bed five seconds ago."

Nero stopped at the dressing-room entrance and leaned one shoulder against the frame, his long hair sliding forward again while he watched Sebastian select clothes for the day.

The grin had not disappeared.

"If it is something you bought, I can probably identify it."

"It isn’t."

That made him visibly more interested.

Sebastian pulled a dark shirt from the wardrobe.

"If it is an experience, I can narrow the possibilities."

"You can spend the entire day trying."

"I probably will."

"I know."

Nero looked absurdly pleased by the challenge.

Sebastian turned away before his own expression revealed too much.

After the party.

Nero’s birthday.

The man who had waited seven years for Sebastian to approach him, who had never kissed anyone else and somehow still carried himself like temptation had been invented specifically for his convenience, was going to receive something Sebastian knew he could not purchase, negotiate for, manipulate into existence, or arrange through royal authority.

Sebastian had to choose it.

And he had.

Behind him, Nero was still smiling.

Sebastian smiled too.

For once, he intended to enjoy making the enigma wait.