Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 332

Chapter 332: ’Shameful, Shameful’

"Florian..."

The name slipped from Heinz’s lips slower than usual—soft, low, almost like it weighed him down. There was no bite, no command, just... gravity. Yet the sound of it curled tightly around Florian’s spine, making him straighten on instinct.

He took a few steps forward, heart beating a little faster than he’d like to admit, and stopped just short of the throne. He dipped into a practiced bow, letting his gaze fall to the floor. Behind him, he sensed Lucius follow with crisp grace, Lancelot with stiff reluctance, and Cashew with nervous precision. A practiced routine—well-honed, well-rehearsed.

All except Azure.

The little dragon perched stubbornly on his shoulder, head raised, expression unimpressed as he blinked up at the king. He let out a soft huff, tail flicking lazily. Azure had always held a casual disdain for royalty—especially this one—and Heinz had returned the sentiment in kind. Their mutual apathy was almost impressive.

But Heinz didn’t look at Azure. His eyes were locked on Florian, and that—that—was what made Florian’s hands clench at his sides.

He dared a glance upward.

The King’s expression was unreadable. Pale skin, regal posture, blood-red eyes that flickered with nothing. No warmth, no displeasure, no smugness, no curiosity.

Just... blank.

’I can’t... read his expressions. Why is he just standing there like that? Why does it feel like the air’s heavier than it should be?’ Florian thought, the weight of Heinz’s gaze settling over him like a storm cloud refusing to break.

"Your Majesty?" he finally asked, his voice low, cautious—each syllable carefully measured. He needed to say something—to disrupt whatever strange silence had overtaken the room. The knot in his chest was tightening.

Heinz blinked slowly, as if roused from a deep thought, and cleared his throat. The sound felt foreign coming from him.

"Is that... the outfit Drizelous tailored for you?"

Florian’s brows furrowed slightly. Of all things to say, that question felt... oddly pointed.

Still, he nodded, clearing his throat. "Yes. This is exactly it."

It was a half-truth. Drizelous had tailored the outfit, but it wasn’t the one he originally designed. That one had been ruined beyond repair. What Florian wore now was a hastily reimagined version—stitched together in a rush, reworked in a single night. Elegant, yes, but undeniably different.

He felt his cheeks flush. His shoulders tensed under the weight of Heinz’s unrelenting gaze.

’I... I don’t like this. He’s staring more than Lucius and Lancelot do—and that’s saying something.’

Heinz said nothing. He didn’t blink. His gaze roamed—slowly, intently—and Florian had the absurd feeling that he was being studied rather than looked at.

A beat passed. Then another.

Finally, Heinz spoke.

"I see."

Just that. Two words. Neutral, flat—no hint of emotion. And yet they made Florian’s heart skip.

The silence that followed felt louder than anything else.

Desperate to think about anything else, Florian found his eyes drifting to Heinz’s attire. The King wore the same colors he did: black, red, and gold—the signature palette of the Obsidian family. On Heinz, the colors looked regal, inevitable. On Florian, they felt borrowed, like ill-fitting royalty he didn’t ask for.

Heinz’s long black hair was tied back, neat and elegant. His tailored suit was pristine beneath his cape, the Obsidian insignia stitched proudly across it. He stood like he was the kingdom—solid, unmoving, dangerously unreadable.

’He looks good.’ The thought came unbidden. ’Well... of course he does. He’s Heinz. The most handsome man in Concordia. There’s no law against noticing that.’

But then Heinz moved.

Without warning, he reached behind his shoulders and unfastened the clasp of his royal cape. The heavy fabric slid free in one elegant motion.

Lucius stiffened beside him. "Your Majesty, what are you—"

Heinz ignored him completely.

He stepped down from the dais, cape draped over one arm, and walked directly toward Florian—unhurried, unblinking.

Every step echoed through the hall like a slow drumbeat, and Florian suddenly forgot how to breathe.

’What is he doing?’

Azure, sensing the shift in tension, let out a small chuff and took flight with a beat of his wings, circling upward to perch on a beam above. The moment he left, Florian felt something else take his place—something heavier. frёeωebɳovel.com

The cape.

Heinz had closed the distance and placed his royal cape over Florian’s shoulders—his arms moving around him with a deliberate slowness. It wasn’t rough. If anything, it was strangely gentle.

Too gentle.

Florian’s fingers trembled slightly as they reached for the edge of the fabric.

His heart pounded.

"...Your Majesty... why are you putting your cape on me?" His voice cracked, quiet with confusion. There was no mistaking it—this was his royal cape. The very same worn during official court. Florian shouldn’t be wearing it. Not like this.

Heinz looked down at him, gaze firm and direct.

"To cover you up."

The words struck harder than they should’ve.

Florian’s stomach twisted. His fingers curled into the folds of the fabric, eyes wide.

"...Oh." His voice was small.

His heart sank.

’Does he really think I look that shameful?’

He looked down at himself, at the outfit he once thought was flattering—maybe even a little charming. It hugged him in the right places, flowed when he walked. It wasn’t vulgar. It wasn’t supposed to be.

But Heinz had covered it.

’Fuck. I didn’t even consider that Heinz might think it’s shameful... Ah...’

✧༺ ⏱︎ ༻✧

It hadn’t even been that long since Heinz had come to terms with it.

The desire.

The pull.

He was sexually attracted to Florian.

Lust.

It simmered beneath his skin, hot and restless. It taunted him every time Florian did something so innocent—like biting his lip in thought or fidgeting with the hem of his clothes—and yet, it felt anything but innocent to Heinz.

But even now, especially now, Heinz knew he should not indulge. He could not.

This Florian made it impossible not to look. He was real—sharp-tongued, unpredictable, full of reactions that Heinz wanted to wring out of him again and again.

It was too easy to notice how his throat bobbed when nervous. How his lashes fluttered whenever caught off guard. How his slender waist curved just right when he turned too quickly. How Heinz’s hand remembered the way it fit there, once, briefly.

He looked ruinable.

’No. No. Stop it. Not here. Not now.’

It was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Especially not Florian. Of all people, it had to be him?