Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 422

Chapter 422: ’Happiness.’

Upon that overwhelming realization—that he was definitely in love with Florian—Heinz deepened the kiss, pouring everything into it.

His fingers curled into Florian’s hair, anchoring him there as their mouths moved in sync, tongues tangling in a feverish dance.

’Mine.’

But then—Florian gently pressed a hand against Heinz’s chest, breaking the kiss with trembling fingers.

Heinz froze, confused for a moment, his brows furrowing in concern. He pulled back just enough to see Florian’s expression.

Both of them were breathless, gasping softly, lips flushed and damp. Florian’s eyes were lidded with desire, but there was no fear—only aching need.

"Is something wrong? Does it hurt?" Heinz asked, voice softer than usual, barely more than a whisper.

Florian’s cheeks were crimson, and he wouldn’t quite meet Heinz’s eyes. He swallowed hard before whispering, "M-Move..."

The word was fragile, but laced with unmistakable longing.

’Oh.’

Heinz didn’t need any further explanation. His breath caught in his throat, heart pounding like war drums as he shifted his hips.

Slowly—carefully—he withdrew, only to push back in with unhurried precision, watching every flicker of expression on Florian’s face.

The warmth, the tightness, the vulnerability—it nearly undid him.

Florian whimpered beneath him, his body instinctively clenching around Heinz in response.

"Does it hurt?" Heinz asked again, his voice rough from restraint. He didn’t trust himself to move faster unless Florian said so. Not when Florian was so fragile in his arms.

"A-A bit..." Florian admitted, his voice shaking—but not from fear. His hands gripped at the sheets, knuckles white.

Heinz’s heart twisted, not from guilt, but from awe.

This prince—his Florian—was trusting him with everything.

"I’ll go slow," Heinz murmured, lowering his head to brush soft kisses across Florian’s face—his forehead, the apple of his cheek, the tip of his nose, reverent and tender.

"I’ll be gentle. I promise."

And as he began a languid rhythm, Heinz knew this wasn’t about lust anymore. Something he didn’t know he was still capable of.

He wanted to tell him.

He wanted to say it.

But even he knew it wasn’t time yet.

Time seemed to stretch, each moment charged with an electric tension that crackled between them. Slowly, Florian’s whimpers began to shift, morphing into soft, breathy moans that sent heat spiraling through Heinz’s veins.

"Y-You can... you can..." Florian stammered, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he trailed off.

"What is it, Ilúvarei? Tell me," Heinz whispered, his voice low, coaxing, drenched in restrained desire.

But he already knew—he could feel it in the way Florian’s legs trembled around him, in the desperate rise and fall of his chest, in the way his lips parted like he was trying to find the courage to speak.

Florian turned his head away, flushed to his ears, his breathing unsteady. "You can... move faster."

Heinz’s breath hitched at the soft confession, the request striking straight through his chest. His hips stuttered mid-thrust, the control he’d been clinging to slipping for a moment.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, voice taut with the effort it took not to completely lose himself. But he obeyed—of course he did—and quickened his pace, the slow tenderness gradually giving way to something deeper, more consuming.

"Ah... A-Ah!" Florian’s moans became louder, uninhibited, as his nails dragged down Heinz’s back—desperate, searching, as though trying to ground himself in a storm of sensation.

Heinz lowered himself further, pressing their foreheads together as he thrust harder, deeper. "Ilúvarei," he groaned, his voice rough. "Look at me... Tell me what you want."

Florian’s eyes fluttered open, glossy and filled with aching need. "F-Faster... please," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion—desperation laced with trust.

Heinz’s heart ached at the sound. "Your...ah...wish..."

"...Is my command." He pulled back until only the tip remained, then thrust back in hard, deep—so deep Florian gasped and cried out, arching beneath him.

"AH, HEINZ!" The sound ripped from Florian’s throat, unfiltered, raw and perfect, the kind of sound that would burn itself into Heinz’s soul forever.

That was it.

Heinz’s rhythm became relentless—not rough, not violent—but fierce, like he was trying to etch himself into Florian’s very being. Each thrust, every gasp, every cry between them pulled them closer, tethered tighter.

His lips found Florian’s neck, teeth grazing the delicate skin before biting—lightly, so lightly—leaving faint pink marks that would bloom into bruises later that he hoped everyone in the palace would see.

"Ah... Heinz..." Florian’s voice was a plea, a prayer, trembling as his fingers tangled in the sheets, knuckles white. His body arched under Heinz, every movement exaggerated by the relentless pace. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

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