A Gorgeous White

"Ugh... "

Moulin's exhausted figure fell on his soft bed. His eyes stared dazedly at the ceiling. Although his body was drained of energy for completing all his tasks, he didn't feel satisfied. In the end, he was too busy to care about anything. His chest alternately rises and lowers as he furrows his eyebrows in deep thought.

The soothing light of the sunset caressed his cheeks gently. His hair spread out softly on the soft sheets beneath him. Moulin turned his gaze to the three windows. His gaze wandered beyond the crystal glass silently. The cloudless sky, painted with brilliant hues, signifying the end of day and the rise of the night...

Night...

Moulin's expression turned dark. A burst of irritation bloomed in his chest and he grabbed the nearest pillow and strangled it with both hands. After minutes of releasing his frustration, he threw away the pillow.

"Damn it... "

He moved to the edge of the bed and covered his eyes with a hand. As the last light of the setting sun engulfed the room, a hint of redness appeared at the corners of the youth's ears. Moulin pressed his lips together as he stared at his bare feet on the floor. He curled his toes.

'Come to my quarters tonight...'

The Lord's deep voice still lingered in his mind as Moulin tried his best to focus on his tasks for the day. To his disappointment, he ended up thinking of Lord Hadrian's voice and a particular little fox that deserves punishment once Moulin gets his hands on him.

Moulin had asked Varick the location of Lord Hadrian's quarters earlier. At first, he thought Varick would rain down questions on him, to his surprise it only took half a second for Varick to answer him. Moulin was the one suspicious of him instead.

"Leonile tower..." Moulin muttered.

He plans to go once the lights have dimmed and the hallways were empty. He needed to avoid the sentinels on night watch as well. He didn't want to risk getting caught and start some rumors. He was the only aphrodite Maeruthan in the manorial, attention would like on him once the gossips would start.

Tsk...

Snow this brat!

Moulin internally reprimanded the fox.

He thought Snow was just going to do his business somewhere. That was why Moulin didn't pay too much attention to where Snow was going. But Moulin didn't expect that the brat would be caught by Lord Hadrian. Exactly what was that little brat thinking?

He should just leave the brat and sleep! Moulin narrow this eyes at the idea but in the end, he shook his head. As much as Moulin wanted to do that, he couldn't. Admittedly, he could no longer sleep comfortably without Snow by his side...

Lifting his head, Moulin sighed heavily. He glanced at the windows.

He just has to wait for the night to come...

..........

The hallways were dark and eerie in the night. The hallways lamps were dim-lit and not a soul could be seen walking. It was silent and dim.

Wearing a long black cloak, a figure walked down the halls quietly. Whenever a sentinel on night watch would walk by, he would skillfully hide in the shadows. Moulin long knew how to conceal his presence, with or without abilities. One of the perks of being unsociable and solitary.

He traveled up a staircase leading to a wide empty hallway. He noticed the massive double doors at the end of the hallway. Moulin feels as if he was a kidnapper climbing up to the royal chamber and abduct a princess.

More accurately, he was going to abduct a furry brat and spank the soul out of him.

His steps echoed faintly as he walked. He knocked on the door hesitantly before they unexpectedly opened by themselves. Moulin grew wary as he entered.

The doors closed with an unusual click.

His shoes stepped on a large furred carpet. The room was lavish. Fit for a king. A massive luxurious bed was situated at the front. Red silk curtained around it and the furred blanket looked so soft. Moulin was tempted to jump on it.

He was about to if it wasn't for the small bump on the blankets. It moved as though it noticed something and began to travel at the end of the blanket. Moulin stared at it blankly.

As he expected, the brat's head popped out from the blankets and his beady eyes sparkled as Snow caught sight of his dear master. Master had come for him!

"Ao!"

Moulin scoffed. "You useless brat! Do you have any Idea what I have to go through so I could get you? You just let yourself be capture so easily?"

Moulin hastily walked towards him. Snow whimpered as he lowered his head. Why is master angry at him? Master's friend had taken care of him so much. He thought his master was going to become happy to see him full and well.

Seeing Snow's eyes going teary, Moulin stopped his scolding. With a sigh, he cursed himself internally. Ugghhh... Why was he so affected by that look?

Surrendering to Snow's pitiful look, Moulin reached out a hand to caress the little fox's head. "I'm sorry for raising my voice. However, you should not make me worry next time. What if something had happened to you? Some people will take your shiny fur and even eat you"

"?!" Snow flinched.

Seeing his warning was taking effect, Moulin continued, "Yes, they'll boil you in soup then eat you and I will be sad. You look so small and useless... They will definitely swallow you whole."

Snow quickly leaned closer to Moulin's palm. Scary!

Restraining a laugh, Moulin nodded in satisfaction. "Next time don't go with strange people. Especially a perverse man who uses little beasts like you to lure people-"

"Do you mean me?" A voice suddenly whispered in his ear deeply.

"!!"

Moulin jerked forward. He fell on the bed and crawled back out of shock.

The Lord was standing at the foot of the bed with crossed arms. Hadrian towered over him with a sly smile. "A perverse man? You are running out of words, little doll. Try something new."

"Fucker..." Moulin muttered shamelessly. As he pressed his palms beneath him so he could sit up on the bed.

"..."

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. "What rude language... "

His sword in his sheath clinked as he swiftly grabbed Moulin's ankle and pulled Moulin towards him. Moulin yelped as his body slid against the sheets towards Lord Hadrian. He dug his fingers on the blankets to stop himself from being dragged but it was hopeless. He stared at the Lord with wide eyes.

Hadrian lifted Moulin's exposed ankle and stared down at the youth's helpless form. His wavy white hair spread out on the furred blankets and his glaring silver eyes flickered with humiliation and anger. His delicate fingers clutching on the blankets by his sides. Hadrian exhaled. His burning eyes stared at the enchanting person on his bed.

He felt parched...

Inside was burning...

Unconsciously, he lifted Moulin's ankle higher, slightly spreading Moulin's legs. His free hand reaching out to feel a thieving touch...

Swish!

Hadrian's hand ceased its movements.

The glare of the blade of ice gleamed dangerously. It was an inch away from the slicing off the lord's neck. Hadrian glanced at the blade with a smile...

Moulin glowered menacingly. His silver eyes glowed faintly as he manipulated the floating ice blade on the Lord's neck. A corner of his lips turned up. "Don't think you can fiddle as you want, Milord. One wrong mistake and you will never hear of me again..."

Hadrian frowned. He gradually retracted his hand back "Is that so..."

The threat was indeed effective. Moulin lifted his chin victorious.

"How cunning... " Hadrian deeply gazed at those alluring eyes of silver. "However..."

The blade of ice suddenly shattered in front of Moulin's eyes. It's tiny shards rained down on the bed like dust. It showered on Moulin's stomach and his legs. Moulin's eyes widened in shock. His eyes turned unfocused.

Hadrian's golden eyes glowed domineeringly. He smiled at the startled Moulin beneath him. "Did I scare you?"

Moulin blinked "You wish..."

"Oh?" Hadrian released a chuckle "Should I try again then?"

Moulin shook his head without cutting off their eye contact. He fully recognized the man's strength after the stunt earlier. His ice turned to dust and the man didn't even need to move a muscle. Just remembering it sent shivers down his spine.

"Are truly you not afraid?"

Hadrian asked. His eyes were as if digging through Moulin's soul to rip the truth from the inside.

Moulin snorted. He lifted his free foot and pressed it against the man's hard stomach. It was like stepping on unbreakable steel. For a moment, he felt the man flinched by the unexpected action. Suddenly, a sense of amusement filled him. "Even the esteemed Lord can not resist such common acts..." Moulin mocked.

"You act as though you aren't an Aphrodite..." Hadrian clenched his jaw.

Moulin rolled his eyes. "Do you think I've been acting like one all along?"

"No..." Hadrian instantly answered. With careful yet strong movements, he bent Moulin's knee and brought the bridge of the youth's pale feet to his mouth. The heat of his hands seeped into Moulin's skin.

Moulin stared with a tilted head. Despite his impassive countenance, he was unaware of the redness creeping into his ears and cheeks.

The Lord's warm lips pressed on the soft pale skin of his foot. The touch was searing. Sending out a wave of heat, almost startling Moulin.

Moulin flinched. The muscles of his imprisoned leg tightened. His lips parted as he gaped.

Only one thought came into his mind

Lord Hadrian Hercullio has a foot fetish!