Chapter 184: Sharing body heat to get him warm

Slowly, Alaric reached for Julian’s dick, stroking it, hoping for a reaction.

He would use whatever method he could to share the warmth, as well as the burden.

Thankfully, it seemed like Julian’s body hadn’t completely frozen. There was a reaction. Despite the unconscious state and the freezing skin, Julian’s dick grew hard in Alaric’s grip.

"Good," Alaric muffled, placing his lips once again on Julian’s cold chest, the freezing sensation biting into his skin, but he did not care.

It was not like the cold could harm him.

Even if he stayed buried under ice, he would remain unharmed.

Slowly, Alaric slid his hand down, reaching for Julian’s rear and circling his entrance.

He had once heard of tales from the North. Back then, when he had newly married into Blackspire and the Duchy had been changed to the Alaric Duchy, there were so many things he did not know.

How to battle the cold was one of them.

The cold was a battle on its own, and he, who was used to the Capital and had part of his blood flowing from the Southern Desert, had a problem fighting this battle.

He had just become a full knight, but hadn’t mastered the act of circulating his aura through his blood vessels to prevent his blood from thickening.

During that time, the old Butler had given him a blunt piece of advice on how men from the South ’thawed the ice’ here in the North. It wasn’t by sitting by fireplaces; it was about the heat generated by the body during its most intense moments.

The sweat, the shivering of the nerves, the frantic rush of the heart—And no, he was not referring to morning training or drills. It was sex. Sex was a weapon against the cold that won 8 out of 10 times.

So, having sex was a very good way to thaw the ice.

His wife, then, Bellanora, had taken the brunt of his quest in sharing her heat, and at that time, he was dubbed as an overzealous husband who couldn’t leave his wife for even a second.

The rumors spread, but they were all harmless and portrayed him favorably.

That was until he learned to circulate aura through his blood vessels and could even walk around the cold North in nothing but a shirt. It got to a point where it started getting too hot that he left his chest exposed.

Of course, Bellanora scolded him for his indecency, and he whimpered.

Still, even after he had learned to take care of the cold alone, he did not give his wife any breathing space, like a man who was intoxicated by the very scent of his wife.

​He loved her dearly. Truly.

​Alaric squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory back into the dark. He had a different battle now.

​He stuck his finger inside Julian’s hole, spreading the oil carefully. He was meticulous, making sure to open Julian up properly so he wouldn’t tear the skin when he pushed himself in.

Julian was unresponsive, his head still on the pillow, but his body was reacting on a subtle level. His insides pulsed around Alaric’s finger, faintly squeezing around him, and that signaled the blood was still trying to move.

​It was enough of a response to edge him on. Alaric moved closer, his own heart hammering against Julian’s frozen ribs, preparing to pour every ounce of his burning heat into the man who had become his entire world.

Slowly, he slid in another finger, and then another, until there were three, and the hole began to squeeze his thick fingers tight.

He needed to get it free because his cock was certainly thicker than three if his fingers combined.

"Julian," he called, his voice muffling over Julian’s cold chest.

A single bead of sweat rolled down Alaric’s temple, hanging for a heartbeat before dropping onto Julian’s pale, collarbone. It looked like a diamond against the marble.

He wiggled his fingers inside Julian, spread them, and then he hit that very spot that served as a great way to jumpstart an unconscious body. The prostate.

Julian’s entire frame buckled. A violent shiver racked him from his heels to his neck. It was the first sign of genuine life—a raw, sensory reaction to the friction and the pressure.

Alaric didn’t pull back. The sight of that involuntary buckle, the way Julian’s spine arched slightly off the sheets, was the only signal he needed. It was a sign that the nerves were still there, buried deep beneath the ice, waiting for a reason to spark.

Alaric took out his fingers, the sound wet and sharp in the heavy silence of the room.

Then, he shifted his weight, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of Julian’s pale, trembling thighs. Alaric was a mountain of radiating heat, his skin slick with sweat that steamed in the stifling air of the room.

Then, he took out his broad and throbbing cock. He hadn’t been hard this whole time, but the feeling of his fingers in Julian’s hole had been stimulating enough to get a rise out of him.

He gripped his cock, stroking it a bit to spread the remaining oily essence over his tip, and his chest heaved quite heavily.

He was about to take Julian while he was unconscious.

He didn’t think he would do something like this after he confessed to Julian that night. He didn’t think... something like this would happen.

He looked with a sad longing at his lover’s face; the light wrinkle on his brows was a sign of life, and he wanted to make more than his brows wrinkle.

He wanted to see more. To make sure that Julian was coming alive, and not dying under the frost of his own skin.

Then, he pressed the tip of his cock against Julian’s oiled entrance.

"Stay with me," Alaric growled, a low, guttural command that was more like a prayer than a threat.

He pushed his tip in. Slowly. The resistance was immense—not just the physical tightness of a body that was inferior to his size, but the literal cold.

It felt like sinking his cock into a frozen sheath.