Between Silence and Secrets

Chapter 1

For William Kingston, a member of the upper echelons of society, matchmaking had always been nothing more than a perfunctory routine.
Now married to Edgar Fairweather, a man he considered unremarkable, William couldn’t quite place why he found himself so irritated by the careful way Edgar behaved around him. That simmering frustration swelled within him, fueled by an unexplainable anger.
Before he could even grasp the reasons behind his odd reactions, he had to confront an astonishing realization: despite believing that he was incapable of opening his heart to anyone again, William found himself inexplicably drawn to the ordinary Edgar. It struck him—as plain as day—that he still cared.

Chapter 2

Edgar Fairweather thought to himself, this was most likely a cold war. They had not only ceased communication but also all forms of contact; if it weren't for the fact that they still shared the same bed each night, Edgar would genuinely believe they were heading towards divorce.
William Kingston seemed equally agitated by this situation, yet for some reason, he still insisted on coming to bed every night, showing no intention of moving into the guest room.
So Edgar opted to ignore him, avoiding the room for as long as possible each day. More often than not, by the time he returned to their bedroom to shower and prepare for sleep, William was already tucked in. Edgar would hurriedly wash up and climb into bed, leaving a gap between them wide enough to fit another person.
...This arrangement was starting to feel indistinguishable from separation. The house was far too large, and he could always find ways to dodge William. Even sharing the same bed felt meaningless under these circumstances.
Caught in this unsettling state of mind, Edgar found it impossible to focus on anything; his thoughts were always drifting elsewhere.
Aside from the one instance of staying out all night, William had not worked late again since then and returned home promptly each evening. They continued their routine, sitting wordlessly across from each other in the dining room. Edgar kept his gaze lowered, silently eating, not even sparing William a glance. He didn't know how to face the man anymore.
They were never the kind of couple who openly discussed love; they had simply married at their parents' behest. Perhaps Edgar had once felt a flicker of attraction towards William, but that feeling extinguished the moment their marriage was about to be formalized—vanishing before he even realized it. As for William... no matter whom he loved or what he desired, Edgar felt powerless to intervene.
He had long sensed that within his social circle, couples typically maintained a facade of mutual respect while simultaneously engaging in affairs on the side. Edgar faintly feared that if this situation continued to deteriorate, they would either divorce or fall into that same pattern.
...The only question was, he didn’t understand what William was thinking.
William had made it clear that he didn’t want Edgar to know anything about Catherine Windrider, nor did he want her to have any contact with him. Yet, if William genuinely cared for Catherine, why did he endure this oppressive silence between them, insisting on sharing meals daily?
He lost track of how long this continued—maybe it was just over ten days, or perhaps longer. Edgar hadn’t kept meticulous count, but one day, William unexpectedly didn’t emerge to join him for breakfast.
Edgar watched for a moment before cautiously reaching out to touch William’s forehead, which felt hot. He called for the maid to get the family doctor, then tried waking William.
“Why are you calling me?” William murmured, slowly opening his eyes and exhaling softly.
“You're sick,” Edgar replied flatly. “The doctor will be here soon; just rest for now.”
William’s face was flushed, the usual tension and arrogance replaced by a vague air of fragility and discomfort; perhaps illness had rendered him vulnerable, as his brow furrowed slightly.
“Call Peter Nightingale and ask him to come over,” William said slowly.
Edgar nodded and stepped out to pull up the number on his phone, notifying Peter to come by. On the line, Peter didn’t seem too surprised to hear William was ill, as if this were a regular occurrence. He only said he’d arrive a bit later.
After hanging up, Edgar hesitated before calling his colleagues at the research institute to take a sick day on his behalf.
When the doctor arrived, he conducted a brief examination and finally announced that William only had a cold and fever; with regular medication, hydration, and rest, he would recover.
After sending the doctor off, Edgar asked the maid to bring some hot porridge to the room, hoping William would eat something and take his meds. But William lay uncaringly on the bed, utterly still and seemingly in great discomfort.

Chapter 3

Edgar Fairweather had no choice but to blow on the porridge to cool it down before spooning it into the man’s mouth, bite by bite.
It had been far too long since there had been such a tender moment between them. Edgar managed to feed the man a whole bowl of porridge, urging him to take the medicine with some plain water afterward. Shortly after, the man drifted back to sleep, and Edgar could finally breathe a sigh of relief.
As lunchtime approached, Peter Nightingale finally arrived.
Not only did he show up, but he also brought along some urgent documents that needed signatures. William Kingston was called awake, propping himself against the headboard, signing with a pen while coughing painfully in between strokes. Once all the documents were signed, Edgar instructed the maid to bring in lunch.
William's gaze was fixed firmly on Edgar, but Edgar showed no signs of compromise. Instead, he felt a strange amusement at the unfolding drama. If William could sign his name and discuss company matters, then surely he could handle a meal without issue. Leaving the water, the medicine, and the Chinese takeout behind, Edgar stepped downstairs and bumped into Peter, who was busy organizing files in the living room.
Peter glanced around to ensure they were alone before lowering his voice. “Did you two get into a fight?”
“Yeah,” Edgar replied, his tone casual.
A look of concern flickered across Peter’s face. “Oh no, it couldn’t be because of what I said the other day… could it?”
“This isn’t your fault.” Edgar took a seat opposite Peter and said steadily, “He’s the one who lied.”
Peter ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “After that day, I told Mr. Kingston about our conversation since I thought your expression was odd, and his face just… fell. He looked terrible. But he came back to work acting as normal, so I thought everything had cleared up. I didn’t expect…”
“That wasn’t a misunderstanding; there’s nothing more to discuss.” Edgar chuckled lightly. “You mentioning it made me remember how he made no effort to clarify things—probably because he has no regrets.”
Peter’s eyes widened, then he forced a laugh. “In any case, if there's anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to ask.”
After Peter left, Edgar stayed in the dining room to have lunch, but soon a maid entered to announce a visitor. When Edgar walked into the living room, he found Nathaniel Crowley examining a painting on the wall.
“What brings you here?” Edgar asked, momentarily surprised, his heart racing as he worried there might be something wrong with the baby.
However, his suspicions turned out to be unfounded. Nathaniel smiled and said, “I came to check on him.” He paused before adding, “I called Kingston Enterprises earlier to see if William was free tonight, but I heard he was sick. Since I had the day off, I thought I’d drop by.”
“The doctor was here this morning; it’s just a cold and fever.” Edgar replied, “Do you want to see him?”
“Of course.”
Nathaniel followed Edgar upstairs. By then, William was in a restless sleep, a brief acknowledgment of Nathaniel, but nothing more. Nathaniel didn’t mind; he just pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat quietly. Not wanting to intrude, Edgar quickly headed back downstairs to ask the maid to prepare some tea.
After a while, he brought the tea tray back upstairs. The door was slightly ajar, and as he was about to enter, he caught a glimpse that made him pause. Nathaniel was looking down at a sleeping William, his expression softening in a way that made Edgar think he had misidentified the emotion. He blinked hard, trying to shake off the doubt.
Hearing Edgar’s footsteps, Nathaniel looked up and flashed a familiar smile. “Thanks, I was getting a bit thirsty.” Taking the cup of tea from Edgar’s hands, Nathaniel sipped casually, seemingly unfazed by the earlier moment.
… Must have been my imagination, Edgar thought, smiling in return.
Nathaniel didn’t linger long before leaving. After saying his goodbyes, Edgar returned to the room to replace William’s ice pack, settling down at the other end of the bed.

Chapter 4

William Kingston was deep in sleep, his cheeks flushed, a layer of thick comforters pressed against him, and a thin sheen of sweat at his temples suggested he was too warm for comfort.
Edgar Fairweather gently dabbed at his friend's forehead with a tissue, trying to alleviate the discomfort.
It was during a conversation with Peter Nightingale that Edgar realized he was actually hoping William would provide a clear explanation. Despite knowing he was being lied to, a part of him held onto hope. But William said nothing, choosing to maintain their strained silence, refusing even to acknowledge the lies he had told before.
Time passed, and William’s eyes fluttered open briefly before closing again. Perhaps still in a haze of sleep, he unexpectedly wrapped his arms around Edgar, catching him off guard and stealing his breath away. Edgar tried to wriggle free, but William's grip was too strong. After struggling in vain, he decided to relax and leaned into William's embrace.
...It wasn't the first time, after all; there was no need to feel embarrassed. He reassured himself, lifting his gaze to take in William's sleeping face.
William looked serene, as if nothing had happened. As Edgar regarded him closely, held tightly in the man's arms, he momentarily began to question whether their standoff was just a figment of his imagination. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he snapped back to reality and pressed his lips together tightly.
“...Don't move,” William murmured, his voice husky and low.
Realizing that William was awake, Edgar replied evenly, “Let go. I need to get up.”
“No.” William’s refusal was immediate, as if he feared Edgar wouldn't understand. He added firmly, “You're not going anywhere.”
“Who says I can't?” Edgar countered, annoyance creeping into his tone.
William fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words, before finally saying, “It doesn’t matter why. I just won’t allow it.”
Edgar felt a surge of anger. He hadn’t expected William to be so domineering even while sick, ignoring their previous arguments as if their cold war had been entirely unfounded. His expression darkened, his voice cooling in response.
“If you’re still hung up on Catherine Windrider, what’s this supposed to mean?” he asked.
William frowned. “Who said I was hung up on her?”
Edgar was caught off guard. “Didn’t you lie about working overtime just to meet her?”
This time, William didn’t retort or respond; he simply lowered his gaze, seemingly unwilling to offer any reply. Anger boiled within Edgar as he tried to probe William’s intentions, but the words hung unspoken in his throat. Though he knew William wasn’t lying, it only deepened his confusion.
If William truly had no feelings for Catherine Windrider, why would he secretly meet her and hide it from Edgar? The more he contemplated, the more his thoughts spiraled into disarray.
Finally, he couldn’t hold back any longer. “Why won’t you explain yourself? Is it easier for you to keep this silence and stay in conflict with me?”
William’s silence was unmistakable.
Frustrated, Edgar felt a mix of anger and self-reproach for even asking. After a moment, he said, “Fine. If you're not going to say anything, then I’m done.”
At his words, William’s voice sharpened. “What does ‘done’ mean?”
“Literally what it means,” Edgar replied coolly. “If one day you decide to get a divorce, I’ll comply without hesitation.”
William remained silent for a long while. As Edgar attempted to free himself, ready to get up, William yanked him back into place. Just as Edgar was about to demand what William intended, his lips were sealed by an unexpected kiss.
…It seemed there was no need to ask anymore.
Edgar tried to push William away, but it was futile. The man’s strength was overwhelming. As he was pinned down, Edgar could feel William’s scorching kisses trailing warmth across his face and neck, leaving behind a trail of unmistakable marks that spoke of desire.

Chapter 5

Edgar Fairweather pushed away at William Kingston, trying to break free. After several fruitless attempts, anger surged within him. He lifted his leg to kick, but William remained unyielding, swiftly capturing Edgar's ankle and pulling him aside. His lips found Edgar's skin, kissing every exposed inch, but deliberately avoiding his lips.
Before long, Edgar found himself flipped onto his stomach, instinct kicking in as he began to struggle. But it was too late; William had already tugged down his pants, not fully removing them, and as Edgar realized the man’s tongue was slipping into his rear, his resistance only intensified. William held him down firmly, that tongue teasing, desperate, licking with a fervor that made Edgar’s body react despite his mind's protests.
Eventually, William withdrew his tongue, but before Edgar could comprehend his next move, he felt the familiar invasion from behind. William pushed deep inside, causing Edgar to gasp silently, the world around him blurred. He couldn’t distinguish whether it was tears or sweat mixing with the pain that radiated through him, overwhelming his senses.
With his face pushed into the pillow, Edgar felt the sting of pain, but above it all, the presence of the man on top of him, along with those unwelcome yet vigorous caresses, ignited a reluctant desire within him.
Shame washed over Edgar, but William’s unrelenting thrusts quickened, becoming more forceful. Eventually, Edgar's body began to yield, responding hungrily as William moved without restraint, the friction intoxicating.
Time slipped away—perhaps it was mere minutes—before Edgar climaxed, his fluids dampening their clothes in a searing release. William gripped him through the fabric, coaxing out the last remnants of pleasure, before finally letting go and retreating to sit against the headboard, looking utterly spent, his face flushed with a mix of exhaustion and desire.
Edgar panted, struggling to return to reality, battling the ebb and flow of satisfaction coursing through him.
Disregarding how disheveled he appeared, he turned to William, who was composed and dressed except for his lower half, evidently still aroused, standing firm and engorged. Edgar leaned in, saying nothing, as he sank to his knees and began to lick his partner. William let out heavy breaths, half-closing his eyes in pleasure.
It wasn't long before Edgar felt the hardness intensify, a primal need urging him forward. As he flicked his tongue over the sensitive head, he held on tightly, then bit down lightly, reveling in the surprised grunt that escaped William’s lips as his sharp teeth left an unmistakable mark.
Edgar licked his lips, ignoring the metallic taste mingling with the salty essence in his mouth, and smirked, “Feeling good?”
That intimate area, so simultaneously strong and vulnerable, became William's silent downfall. He continued to pant, utterly lost for words, chest heaving with each labored breath as Edgar noticed the once-rigid length slowly softening, vanishing into the curls of his pubic hair, a sight that oddly invoked pity.
Edgar hesitated, weighing the emotional toll their forced encounter had taken on them both, ultimately deciding against offering an apology. It wasn't that he was averse to admitting fault; it was the principle of not being the one perpetually in the wrong. Besides, he was certain the aftermath was William’s doing.
Moments passed with William keeping his gaze low, and Edgar sensed something was off.
The man’s head hung down, and though his expression was hard to read, he noticed the tear-streaked red eyes gave away his distress. Even as William's breathing stabilized, he remained still, utterly drained.
Edgar's hesitation yielded to concern. “Is it really that painful?”
William looked up, resentment flashing across his features, and surrendered to tears cascading down his cheeks. With indignant eyes still glistening, he replied, “You… you’re still angry?” His voice trembled with a hint of vulnerability.

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