The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL] novel Chapter 1211

Chapter 1211: Thinking Ahead

Much to his surprise, it seemed that the rascal had actually considered the possibility of being rejected. Because no one who was absolutely certain of success would light up like they’d just won the universe simply because someone agreed.

Killian found that strangely endearing.

More than anything, he appreciated how Jax always seemed determined to let him have a choice. He could’ve pushed much further after everything that had already happened between them, yet even now, he still kept on asking like this.

Some would argue that should’ve been the bare minimum.

Maybe it was.

But in the world Killian had grown up in, far too many people treated boundaries as though they were little more than imaginary lines waiting to be crossed.

Power had a way of doing that to people, and he’d spent most of his life surrounded by individuals who believed their little bit of authority placed them above the word "no," while those who truly held power rarely behaved with such arrogance.

So the redhead before him felt... refreshingly different.

And for some reason, Killian found himself wanting to reward and reinforce that good behavior.

This time, when Jax dipped back down to claim his mouth again, the eldest Nox responded differently.

His hands slid upward, fingers tangling deep into the thick red strands at the base of Jax’s neck before sweeping down the hard plane of his back to haul him firmly against his chest.

That most definitely caught the giant rascal off guard, and Killian couldn’t help feeling a little immaturely smug about it.

He couldn’t possibly be the only one getting surprised all the time, could he? Every once in a while, it was nice to be the one catching Jax off guard instead.

Unfortunately, that was the problem with instinctive, carefree people. They always seemed to recover far too quickly, adapting to the new situation at a speed that was, frankly, rather annoying.

Still, Killian met every intense, bruising drag of Jax’s tongue with his own, parting his lips wider to swallow the ragged moans slipping into the space between them. Somehow, that only seemed to spur the redhead on, as though this had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

Then again, the usually composed official couldn’t exactly blame him.

He wasn’t doing much better himself.

His thoughts had become so hopelessly scattered that he could barely hold on to a single coherent one, instinct taking over where reason had long since abandoned him. So when Jax’s knee wedged its way between his legs, Killian’s hips instinctively tilted upward into the heavy pressure, his inner thighs gripping Jax’s leg tightly to grind their hips together, desperate to erase every last whisper of air between their bodies.

"Nnngh...!"

The already small cabin grew suffocatingly warm, thick with the damp, heavy rhythm of their breaths.

Jax shifted his weight over him, his head slanting from side to side every now and then to deepen the angle, hunting for just a little more friction. Their fingers tore through each other’s long, unruly hair, tugging on the roots to pull their faces so close that every breath was a shared, breathless gasp.

They would break the kiss for a split second—lips hovering millimeters apart, glistening, wet, and raw—only to dive straight back in before their lungs could even properly fill.

What started as a second goodnight kiss spiraled into an endless, dizzying loop of mouth on mouth, and if anyone asked Killian to tally the actual score, he was fairly certain he’d insist the numbers were wrong.

This one was just a very long and rather comprehensive retry.

Jax’s broad hand slipped beneath the hem of Killian’s shirt, his calloused palm gripping the warm, bare skin at his waist as he pulled him even more flush against his hips, as though they weren’t already practically welded together.

But just as Killian’s breath caught and he permitted whatever the redhead wanted to do next—and, judging by his own encouragement, probably whatever came after that too—a harsh, unnecessarily shrill blare of an alarm shattered the darkness, making them both freeze mid-gasp.

Beep-beep-beep!

Beep-beep-beep!

"!!!"

Of all the possibilities, it wasn’t an alert signaling danger or an all-out attack.

No.

The unbelievable culprit behind that spectacularly ill-timed interruption was Killian’s terminal.

More specifically, it was the bedtime reminder he’d programmed for himself many years ago because he had an unfortunate habit of forgetting to sleep whenever he got absorbed in work.

His terminal even cross-referenced his schedule. If it detected an early appointment the following day while his vitals indicated he was still awake, it’d keep reminding him until he finally gave in and went to sleep.

Never in his life had Killian imagined that particular alarm would become one of the most irritating sounds he’d ever heard, rivaled only by the voices of Cyrion and Lyrian Luxastra.

Still breathing unevenly, he hurriedly reached for his terminal to silence the alarm while remaining in the rather compromising position he’d somehow ended up in.

Bam!

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