Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

Julian felt the Duke throb harder inside him, as if resonating to the vulnerability in Julian’s voice.

Julian’s heart felt like it was finally, truly waking up—breaking out of whatever space he had safely kept hidden all this time.

He was...wide open.

"You taught me what it means to want," Julian whispered, his thumb brushing over Alaric’s lower lip. "You taught me how to be greedy... how to understand a heart that I thought was broken. You taught me how to love, Lucien. You taught me how to lust, how to crave, how to feel the weight of another soul."

Alaric’s expression shattered. The stoic mask of the North—the iron-willed Duke who had faced armies without blinking—fell away to reveal a man who was utterly, completely undone.

He let out a low, choked sound—half-sob, half-groan—and buried his face in the crook of Julian’s neck, his grip on Julian’s waist tightening until it was nearly bruising.

"I love you," Julian said, the words finally clear and steady, vibrating through his chest and into Alaric’s. "I love you, Lucien."

The confession seemed to break the last of Alaric’s control. He moved with a renewed, desperate fervor, his kisses falling frantically on Julian’s neck, his shoulders, his collarbone.

There was no more teaching, no more careful guidance—only the raw union of two men who had survived a storm to find each other. The sparks of their shared history and the silent intentions of their future flew between them, igniting a heat that made the blizzard outside seem insignificant.

"I love you too, Julian," Alaric grunted, repeating the words over and over like a broken recorder. "I’m so glad, Julian. Truly. I love you so much,"

"Aaah— Lucien, I... I love you, I... Hah!" Julian, in turn, professed over and over, clinging to Alaric, kissing his lips as his fingers dug into the Duke’s back and scratched violently.

"Ngh," Alaric breathed heavily, his eyes clouded with lust, greed, and love.

"I’m cumming... Lucien," Julian announced, his body jerking and shuddering violently as his climax came.

He clamped up around the Duke, forcing the Duke also to reach his climax, pouring his seed deep into Julian and grunting as his shoulders trembled.

"Julian," he let out a guttural groan, as he shuddered, gripping Julian tight as if letting go or releasing his grip even just a little bit would consider this moment void.

This left Julian’s vision blurred. He clung to Alaric, his fingers digging into the Duke’s back, drawing blood unintentionally as he steadied himself.

Then, as the frantic energy faded into the soft, heavy stillness of the afterglow, Alaric didn’t pull away. He simply collapsed onto Julian, his head resting on Julian’s chest, listening to the frantic thud of a heart that now beat only for him.

He reached up, his large hand trembling slightly as he stroked Julian’s damp hair.

"You were a fast learner," Alaric murmured, his voice thick with a raw and unshielded emotion.

Julian smiled, his eyes drifting shut as he felt the warmth of the room settle over them like a second skin.

But as he drifted toward a dreamless sleep in the arms of the man he loved, he realized that loving Alaric... Loving the Duke... was not enough.

It was not enough to fill the gap. Just confessing it was not enough to express his intentions.

He... wanted the Duke to feel his intentions and heart more deeply.

What could he do... to make that happen?

The morning arrived with the dull rays of the sun creeping into the room in an ethereal blue light, filtering through the thick frost on the windowpanes.

The blizzard had exhausted itself during the night, leaving the world outside buried in a heavy, expectant silence.

Inside the bedchamber, the air was cool, but the space beneath the heavy wolf-fur blankets remained a pocket of feverish, lingering heat.

Julian woke slowly, his consciousness drifting up from a sleep so deep it felt like it had reached into his very marrow.

For a few seconds, he lay still, waiting. He was waiting for the familiar, translucent purple flicker of a notification to give him some sort of daily quest, or the mocking reminder of his heart rate.

But there was nothing. Only the steady, rhythmic thump of a heart against his ear—a real, human heart.

He still couldn’t get used to the system’s absence despite months of not having it. He just... I couldn’t forget it. As if his soul was waiting... expecting it to be bound back to him somehow... somewhere.

He should start getting used to it, but... he couldn’t.

Julian was tucked firmly against Alaric’s side, his head resting on the Duke’s shoulder. Alaric’s arm was a heavy, warm weight draped across Julian’s waist, pulling him so close there wasn’t a breath of air between them. The scent of cedar and the salt of last night’s skin filled Julian’s senses, grounding him in reality.

Julian shifted slightly, feeling the pleasant ache in his muscles and the sensitivity of his skin where Alaric had gripped him tightly. He looked up, watching the way the dim morning light caught the sharp line of Alaric’s jaw and the thick, dark lashes resting against his cheek.

In sleep, the ’Jaguar of the North’ looked younger, the deep creases of worry and command smoothed away by the peace of the man beside him.

Julian reached out, his fingers moving with a tentative, light grace as he traced the scar on Alaric’s collarbone. He felt a swell of emotion in his chest—a quiet, overwhelming realization that he didn’t have to hide anymore.

As if sensing the gaze, Alaric’s breathing hitched. His grip on Julian’s waist tightened instinctively before his eyes slowly blinked open. For a moment, they were a clouded, stormy blue, disoriented by sleep, but the second they landed on Julian, they cleared into a terrifyingly soft, adoring gaze.

"Good morning," Alaric croaked, his voice thick and gravelly from sleep.

"Good morning, Lucien," Julian whispered, his voice soft.

Alaric didn’t say anything else. He simply tucked his face into the crook of Julian’s neck, inhaling deeply as if he were memorizing the scent of the morning. Then, he pulled Julian upward until their foreheads rested against each other, their breaths mingling in the quiet room.

"You’re still here," Alaric murmured, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of Julian’s head, his thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

"Why?" Julian smiled, his heart thudding a happy, erratic beat. "I’m not going anywhere."

They stayed like that for a long time, drifting in the comfort of the afterglow. There was no urgency to get to the study, no fear of an emperor’s whim, and no expectations to be met.

It was just a man and the person he loved, waking up in a world they had fought to keep.