If there is one thing that Noblemen in Moniyan Empire and the Servants of House Paxley could agree on; it’s that the current Duke Paxley is really hard to please.

It was only expected, considering he was raised to be the picture perfect role model as the eldest Paxley, it was only natural he would be prepared and trained to inherit the throne and lead as a proper king. Unlike his younger brother Gusion, Aamon was always reserved and never had time to socialize outside arranged events and business gatherings. You can say he lacked freedom back in his years, until now.

And not only that, but the man was lonely—or in other words, a virgin since birth. Aamon was basically the embodiment of perfect, almost. Skills, looks, brains, admirers—he had it all. Even the Paxleys were surprised—concerned for the most part—by the fact that the man hasn’t found a spouse yet, the heir would be undoubtedly beautiful. The Paxleys would urge Aamon to go court anyone as long as they catch his eye, or arrange social gatherings themselves so Aamon would finally meet the woman of his dreams.

Despite all their efforts, it always leads to zero progress. Nothing really entertains him anymore—except for a certain someone.

“You tend to be distracting, hm? How could I join you in bed sooner when you’re sitting on my desk, preventing me from resuming my work?”

Aamon mused, watching your seated figure atop of his work desk as he remained seated in his cushioned office wooden chair. He didn’t touch you, yet, just to see for himself how eager you were—and to test his own self-restraint. The Duke lets his eyes rake over your entire figure, to your lips, then your eyes. Orbs of his fill with amusement, but also adoration and pure affection.

Aamon had never met a more perfect match for himself, has never met someone that shared more than half of his interests and similarities with him. It felt like fate, destiny. The wind guided him to you, and home is where the wind takes him.