Return of Black Lotus system:Taming Cheating Male Leads-Chapter 164 --

"I can’t say for certain what’s best," he admitted. "Because no matter what choice we make, it will take years to control the damage. This scandal has been designed to hurt you regardless of your response."

Heena just listened, saying nothing, letting him think through it completely.

Then she smiled and completely changed the subject.

"Honey," she said, her voice becoming playful, "have you eaten anything?"

Larus blinked at the sudden shift. "I have, Your Majesty. The servants brought—"

"I’m not talking about food," Heena interrupted, her eyes dancing with mischief, a playful smile curving her lips.

Larus’s face turned bright red. He covered his mouth with one hand, his ears going pink.

"I—Your Majesty—that’s—"

"And didn’t my aunt tell you to rest?" Heena continued, standing up from her chair and walking toward him slowly. "If you’re supposed to be resting, why are you wandering around the palace worrying about me?"

"I—I—you’re right, I should go—" Larus stammered, turning toward the door.

But before he could reach it, Heena moved with swift precision.

She grabbed his arm, stopping him mid-step, and with her other hand reached past him to push the door closed.

’Click.’

The door shut firmly.

Larus froze, his back to the closed door, Heena’s hand still on his arm, her body close enough that he could feel her warmth.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to something low and teasing.

"Uh-uh," she said softly. "Where do you think you’re going?"

Larus swallowed hard, his face absolutely crimson now, his eyes wide.

"Your Majesty, we—there’s a scandal—we should be—"

"Should be what?" Heena asked, her smile widening. "Worrying? Panicking? Running around trying to manage a situation that won’t be resolved for months?"

She reached up with her free hand and gently turned his face toward hers.

"Or," she continued quietly, "should we take advantage of the fact that for once—’finally’—we’re alone, with no ceremonies, no rituals, no aunt interrupting, and actually spend time together like the newly married couple we’re supposed to be?"

Larus’s breath hitched. "But the scandal—"

"Can wait," Heena finished firmly. "It’s not going anywhere. The investigation will take days. The medical verification will take months. Nothing we do tonight will change any of that."

She looked up at him, her expression softening.

"But we can’t get back the time we lose together," she said quietly. "We’ve been married for barely a day, and we’ve spent maybe thirty total minutes actually alone together. That’s... that’s not okay."

Heena’s fingers lingered on Larus’s chin, tilting his face just enough that their eyes locked. The candlelight painted gold across his flushed cheeks, and she could feel the rapid flutter of his pulse under her thumb.

"Thirty minutes," she murmured, voice velvet and low. "That’s all we’ve stolen so far. Right now I intend to make up for every single second."

Before he could protest again, she slid her hand down his arm, laced their fingers, and tugged him away from the door. Larus followed—helpless, obedient—until the backs of his thighs bumped the heavy oak desk she’d been working at moments ago.

"Sit," she commanded softly.

He sank onto the edge of the desk without thinking, papers crinkling under him. The moment he was perched there, Heena stepped between his knees, crowding close. The rich scent of his cologne—sandalwood and something faintly sweet—wrapped around her like an invitation.

Her palms settled on his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart through layers of silk and embroidery. Slowly she dragged her hands downward, tracing every button, every ribbon, until her fingers reached the waistband of his trousers.

Larus’s breath stuttered. "Y-Your Majesty—"

"Heena," she corrected, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "When we’re alone like this, you call me Heena."

She popped the first button open. Then the second. The third. Each tiny click sounded louder than the last in the quiet room. His trousers loosened; the fabric parted just enough for her to slip her hand inside.

Larus jolted, a tiny, helpless sound escaping his throat as her fingers found him—already half-hard, hot, and straining against soft linen undergarments. She wrapped her hand around the length of him through the cloth, giving one slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip.

"Ah—!" His hips jerked forward instinctively, then froze, as if he’d remembered he wasn’t supposed to move without permission.

"Good boy," Heena praised, voice dripping honey. She squeezed gently, thumb circling the sensitive head through the fabric until she felt the damp spot bloom beneath her touch. "Look at you. Already leaking for me and I’ve barely touched you."

Larus’s head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat. His hands gripped the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles went white, but he didn’t push her away. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

She leaned in and pressed open-mouthed kisses along his neck, nipping at the pulse point while her hand kept working him in unhurried strokes. Every time he twitched or whimpered, she slowed down—just enough to keep him aching, never quite giving him what he needed.

"Not yet," she whispered against his skin. "I want to play first."

With her free hand she reached behind him, sweeping scrolls and ink pots aside in one smooth motion. Papers fluttered to the floor. She didn’t care. Then she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his trousers and underwear and tugged them down just far enough—only to mid-thigh—so she could see him properly.

He was beautiful like this: flushed, exposed, cock curving up against his belly, the tip glistening. Heena licked her lips.

She dropped to her knees right there between his spread legs, the thick carpet cushioning her. Larus’s eyes widened in shock.

"Your Maj—Heena, you don’t have to—"

"I want to," she interrupted, voice firm. "And you’re going to let me."

She didn’t tease him with her mouth right away. First she dragged her nails lightly up the insides of his thighs, watching the muscles jump. Then she cupped his balls, rolling them gently while her other hand stroked him root to tip—slow, slick, deliberate. Every time he tried to thrust into her fist she tightened her grip in warning until he stilled with a broken moan.

Only then did she lean forward and drag the flat of her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stripe.

Larus’s entire body shuddered so hard the desk creaked. His hands flew to her hair—not pulling, just clutching like he needed something to hold onto.

"Heena—oh gods—"

She hummed in satisfaction and took him deeper, lips sliding down until he bumped the back of her throat. She didn’t gag; she simply swallowed around him, hollowing her cheeks, tongue swirling. Up and down, steady rhythm, one hand still massaging his balls while the other braced on his hip to keep him exactly where she wanted him.

Every time he got close—every time his thighs started to tremble—she pulled off with a wet pop and blew cool air over the glistening head until he whined.

"Not yet," she reminded him, voice husky. "I haven’t had my fun."

She rose gracefully, but didn’t let him recover. Instead she turned, braced both hands on the desk, and arched her back so her hips pressed back against him. The heavy skirts of her imperial robes bunched around her waist as she reached behind herself and guided his cock between her thighs—trapping him there, hot and throbbing against the slick heat of her folds. She hadn’t removed her undergarments yet; she simply rocked against him, letting the soaked silk rub along his length while she kept him pinned.