Please get me out of this BL novel...I'm straight! novel Chapter 351

Chapter 351: ’Drunken Memories’

As soon as Florian asked the question, Heinz stumbled forward—straight into his room.

"W-Wait—!" Florian’s eyes widened in alarm as the king lurched toward him with little control.

Before he could even dodge or brace himself, Heinz’s full weight crashed into him. Florian instinctively reached out, trying to steady them both. But it was no use.

"Fuck," Florian gasped, as gravity pulled them both down.

He prepared for impact, expecting pain to burst from the back of his skull—but it never came.

Instead, he felt an arm curl tightly around his upper body, and a hand gently cradle the back of his head. The landing was rough, but... cushioned.

They hit the ground with a loud thud, Florian groaning at the jarring collision. His back throbbed faintly from the impact, but what really made his heart race was the position he now found himself in.

He looked up—and froze.

Heinz was on top of him. Face flushed. Breathing shallow. And staring directly down at him.

Their faces were barely inches apart.

’Shit. What is happening right now?’

"Ack. Seriously," Florian muttered under his breath, more to himself than anything. But his words faltered when Heinz’s gaze didn’t break.

"Flor...ian..." Heinz slurred again, blinking sluggishly. "Why’re ya... lookin’ at me like that?"

Florian’s brow furrowed. ’Huh? What is he saying?’ He opened his mouth, confused. "What? How am I looking at you right now?"

"Like..." Heinz hiccupped, blinking again as his expression twisted—not with confusion, but hurt. "Like you... don’t love me anymor..."

Florian’s body tensed.

’What...?’

He stared up at Heinz in disbelief, lips parting to speak, but no sound came out at first. His heart had skipped a beat—not from romance, but pure confusion.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Florian blurted under his breath before managing a more measured, "Your Majesty, you do remember that I’m not the real Florian, yes?"

He tried to keep his tone gentle. Heinz was drunk—very drunk—and clearly not himself. But still...

Something about this version of him felt different.

’And scratch that, why does he even care about that?’ Heinz had never shown any hint of love for the original Florian before. No romantic gestures. No affection. So why now?

And then—Heinz pouted.

He pouted.

His lower lip trembled slightly, and his red eyes grew impossibly glossy, his gaze breaking like rippling glass as tears began to well.

’Is he crying?!’ Florian screamed inwardly, his entire body stiff as he felt warm drops fall onto his cheeks—tears not his own. ’Oh my god. Oh my god.’

"W-Why... don’t you love me anymore?" Heinz whispered, voice soft and broken, as though it were crumbling in his throat. "Is there someone else?"

And then he cupped Florian’s face—tenderly. Possessively.

Florian wanted to die.

He wanted to teleport away, roll under the bed, or slam his own head into the wall—anything but this.

He had no idea how to respond, no idea what the fuck was going on. His brain short-circuited. His mouth opened and closed helplessly, and just as he was about to stammer out something awkward—

Heinz’s sorrow twisted into fury.

"Is it Lucius? L-Lancelot?" Heinz growled, his fingers tightening just slightly against Florian’s cheeks. "I... I’m going to fucking kill them."

A sudden pulse of energy spread across the room—raw, uncontrolled magic that made the air crackle and the floor tremble beneath them. Florian recognized it immediately. This was the same rage-fueled power Heinz had released back when punishing Lucius and Lancelot.

’Shit, he’s losing control again!’

"No! No, Your Majesty!" Florian shouted, panicking as he squirmed beneath him. "I-I don’t love Lucius or Lancelot, I—!"

And then—he heard it.

"I only love you, Your Majesty. More than anyone in this world, more than myself."

Florian’s heart nearly stopped.

It was his voice. Clear, unwavering... sincere.

But he hadn’t spoken.

It had been so long, but he knew it instantly—that voice, those words. They weren’t his. Not his.

They belonged to the original Florian.

Yet the words didn’t tremble with tears or desperation like the ones in most memories. This time, the voice was steady. Warm. As though... he was comforting someone.

"H...How do I know your words are true?"

Another voice. A familiar one.

Heinz’s.

But not the broken Heinz above him now. No, this one sounded more vulnerable. Softer. Like he was trying—struggling—to believe in something.

Florian’s breath hitched as a strange chill spread through his body.

The air around him shifted.

The golden candlelight from his room flickered—and then vanished entirely.

The world around him began to blur and melt, reality unraveling like smoke in a storm.

’No, not now—’

He knew this feeling.

It was happening again.

He was being dragged into a memory—a fragment of the original Florian’s life. One he hadn’t seen before.

"I’m yours," Florian whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Always."

Heinz let out a guttural sound, his hands moving to the front of his own robe. He tore the fabric away, revealing the powerful expanse of his chest and the hard length of his cock, already fully erect.

He stepped forward, his hands reaching for Florian again, pulling him close until their bodies pressed together.

Florian gasped at the contact, his skin tingling where it met Heinz’s. The king’s hands were everywhere, his touch possessive and demanding as he explored every inch of Florian’s body.

His mouth found the younger man’s neck, his teeth sinking into the tender skin with a sharp bite that made Florian cry out.

"You’re mine," Heinz growled against his skin, his voice rough with need. "Do you understand? Mine."

"Yes," Florian moaned, his hands tangling in Heinz’s hair. "I’m yours, Heinz. Always yours."

Heinz’s lips trailed lower, his teeth and tongue marking Florian’s delicate skin with possessive bites and kisses. He left no part of the young prince untouched, his hands and mouth claiming every inch of his body as if to prove to himself that Florian was real. T

That he was here. That he loved him.

When Heinz finally pushed Florian onto the bed, the younger man’s body was trembling with need. The king loomed over him, his red eyes blazing with a mixture of lust and desperation. He gripped Florian’s hips, lifting them until his entrance was exposed and vulnerable.

"Please," Florian whispered, his green eyes wide with anticipation. "Please, Heinz."

The king didn’t need to be asked twice. He reached for the vial of oil on the bedside table, slicking his fingers before pressing one against Florian’s tight entrance.

Florian gasped, his body arching as Heinz’s finger pushed inside, the stretch sending a rush of pleasure through him.

Heinz added a second finger, then a third, stretching Florian’s tight opening with a careful precision that belied the desperation in his eyes. When he finally deemed him ready, he withdrew his fingers, his hands gripping Florian’s hips as he lined himself up.

"I need you," Heinz whispered, his voice breaking. "I need you to love me."

"I do," Florian breathed, his hands reaching up to cup Heinz’s face. "I love you, Heinz. I always have."

With a guttural groan, Heinz pushed inside, his thick cock stretching Florian’s tight heat to the limit. The younger man cried out, his body trembling as he was filled completely. Heinz paused, his hands gripping the sheets as he fought for control, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"You’re so tight," Heinz whispered, his voice thick with awe. "So perfect."

Florian’s hands moved to Heinz’s chest, his fingers splayed against the king’s powerful muscles. "Move," he pleaded, his voice trembling with need. "Please, Heinz. I need you."

Heinz obliged, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward, the powerful movement driving a moan from Florian’s lips. The king set a relentless pace, his cock sliding in and out of Florian’s tight heat with a force that left the younger man gasping for breath.

"Tell me again," Heinz demanded, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you," Florian moaned, his hands tangling in Heinz’s hair. "I love you, Heinz. I always have."

The king’s thrusts grew faster, harder, his hips slamming into Florian’s with a force that drove the younger man up the bed.

Each stroke sent a rush of pleasure through him, his body trembling with the intensity of it. Heinz’s hands gripped his hips, holding him in place as he fucked him with a desperate need that left Florian breathless.

"You’re mine," Heinz growled, his teeth sinking into Florian’s shoulder. "Say it."

"I’m yours," Florian cried out, his voice trembling as his back arched, overwhelmed by the surge of pleasure that coiled tight and hot in his belly. His fingers gripped the sheets, his breath ragged. "Yours, Heinz. Always—"

Florian’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts—not just from the pressure of the king’s body, but from the aftermath of what he’d just seen. Or felt.

And it had felt real.

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