Chapter 207: Sweet Nothings

**Chapter 207: Whispers of Affection**

The Elven King observed Elu’s expression and took the lead, his fingers fumbling clumsily against the god’s skin.

Elu stiffened. An unfamiliar helplessness rose within him. He hesitated for a moment, murmuring, “Percy…”

As a deity, Elu understood every step of what was happening—he simply wasn’t ready to act on it yet.

Elu had mild fastidiousness; such intimate contact left him somewhat flustered.

But if it was Percy, it wasn’t unwelcome.

After all, in human marriages, this should be mutual.

A sheen of sweat had formed on Percy’s forehead. His fair skin gleamed in the candlelight, and the skin behind his ears flushed faint pink. The Elven King was trying his best to accommodate, but as a novice who had only read a few novels and whose knowledge remained theoretical, he was completely at a loss despite his efforts.

Percy lightly pressed his lips together.

And the god’s eyes were on him.

Elu lay on his back, his light silver eyes sweeping over the Elven King—from his sweat-beaded forehead down to his neck and collarbones. The thin silk was nearly transparent, leaving him fully exposed under the deity’s gaze.

Elu could see every subtle shift in his expression, the faintest tremble at the corners of his eyes and brows.

Percy was drowning in strangeness.

—He was using a body shaped by the Mother Goddess, doing such things under her watchful gaze.

But he couldn’t fail now.

There was no turning back—having come this far, if he failed now, Percy didn’t know if he’d have the courage to try again.

Elu keenly sensed the unease beside him. He placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder, attempting to sit up slightly. “Percy, we…”

His voice trailed off before he could finish.

Elu let out a soft sigh.

He didn’t understand why, according to inherited memories, this was supposed to be mutually pleasurable, yet the Elven King carried himself like someone going all-in with everything he had. Still, that didn’t stop Elu from taking control, continuing as the elder, more experienced one.

The god kissed his creation.

Percy liked this—Elu had known since their time at South Lake.

The first kiss landed on his forehead, then on his trembling lashes. The elf’s emerald-green eyes grew damp, which the deity gently kissed away.

Next came the tip of his nose, the bow of his lips, his jaw.

The god moved his lips along his favorite creation, feeling each small shiver beneath his palms, trailing down to his neck, shoulders, collarbones…

Elu brushed his lips against the shoulder blade, recalling, “I remember there was a wound here.”

“Yes…”

Percy’s thoughts were fogged, his gaze unfocused as he fought to recall. “During the Withering investigation, I was accidentally pierced by a branch.”

“It bled terribly.”

The Elven King was patient by nature. Back then, Percy had been determined to die young—Elu hadn’t even noticed until the wound healed, scabbed, and then tore open again, bleeding.

After it finally healed, an ugly scar remained, later overlaid with the Withering’s patterns. Eventually, the deity fashioned him a brand-new body, and the scar naturally vanished.

But now, as Elu planted soft kisses on that spot, it flared with heat, as though the wound had returned to his skin, bringing along a weird, prickling itch.

Elu continued downward: “Here—I remember another scar.”

Percy: “…Yes. From a hunt in my youth, back with the clan. I was accidentally gored by a stag’s antlers.”

Once, Elu had pushed aside Percy’s cloak to examine every mark on his body. That form bore every chapter of the Elven King’s life, and the deity’s fingers traced each one in turn.

Percy lost track of how many kisses the deity had given.

He relaxed without realizing it, his body warm and loose like soaking in a tub. Hazy and half-asleep, he didn’t even notice when the deity reached the final step.

Elu sighed softly.

His ancestral memories hadn’t lied—it was *pretty* nice.

Even too nice.

So *this* was the feeling. No wonder people got addicted.

Suddenly, Elu felt like he’d missed out on so much.

But for the first time, his partner’s comfort came first. Percy had only frowned at first, but the deity held back, rubbing the elf’s back patiently, waiting for him to adjust. Eventually, the elf melted against him, receiving an embrace and countless kisses.

Elu kissed Percy again, watching his face—the more he looked, the more he adored it. He truly wanted Percy to have a beautiful experience, so he began recalling what he’d read.

In human customs novels, this was the time for *sweet nothings* (“sweet nothings” is idiomatic for romantic whispers).

But what counted as sweet nothings? How were they supposed to be said?

His inherited memories offered nothing. Elu had no idea.

The deity wracked his brain for worldly wisdom—like the tavern gossip he’d overheard. Drunken men always had smooth talk to woo women. Elu had been the target of plenty of advances and heard endless nonsense.

Then it hit him. He kissed the elf’s earlobe and whispered, tentatively, *“Baby?”*

*“Percy… baby?”*

In that instant, the elf’s emerald eyes widened slightly, his body stiffening all over. Mortified, he couldn’t utter a word.

At the same time, Elu sucked in a breath.

The deity lifted his hand, flustered, and nudged the elf. “Percy—that hurts—”

It *really* hurt.

He would *never* speak recklessly again!

Elu thought resentfully.

…

After much fumbling, the two fumbling newbies finally made it through their first time. Elu helped Percy clean up, then carefully smoothed his silver hair by the bed like a smug cat.

Before, it had been Percy doing that—but the Elven King’s arms were done for.

Elu naturally embraced the elf, nuzzling his cheek against him.

Percy belonged to him now.

From this day onward, Percy could not marry anyone or exchange vows—he could only remain by the deity’s side, just as Elu had wished.

But aside from that final moment, it had truly been pleasant.

Thus, on the second night, as Percy lay on his back, recalling the unpleasantness of the previous day and fretting over whether he had ruined everything, Elu crept toward him again.

The deity’s silver eyes shimmered under the moonlight: “Percy, let’s do this again.”

...

The Elven King was no match for the memory-bearing deity. His pupils grew unfocused—at first, Percy could still recall his knowledge, but soon, he could only surrender to the deity’s will.

His body was like a jewel in the deity’s palm, turned over and over, toyed with at will.

Elu discovered that Percy was especially vulnerable to endearments.

Whenever he leaned close to Percy’s ear and honestly voiced his feelings—how warm or pleasant it was—the way Percy’s lashes trembled was utterly adorable.

But what provoked the strongest response from Percy was “baby.”

He was extraordinarily sensitive to those two words. Every time Elu uttered them, Percy would raise an arm to cover his eyes, as if he couldn’t handle it at all.

Elu thought: *Adorable.*

*

Elu and Percy’s life began to take on a peculiar rhythm.

As time passed, Elu’s condition gradually improved. He could channel spiritual energy, call books from the shelves with a wave of his hand, cleanse himself with a snap of his fingers, and even brush away the flowers on the balcony with a casual gesture.

Still, elves came to bring Percy flowers, occasionally accompanied with letters and love poems.

At first, Elu felt vexed, but later, whenever someone arrived with flowers, he would boldly perch on the windowsill.

They had completed every step of marriage—if Percy dared to entertain thoughts of others, it would be abandonment, worthy of scorn.

Thus, many elves glimpsed the silver-haired beauty on the Elven King’s windowsill.

The beauty wore the Elven King’s snow-white robes, his demeanor as aloof as winter snow. Whenever someone offered flowers, he would lower his icy silver eyes, making the elves shiver.

The elf population was small, and gossip spread swiftly. Within days, nearly everyone knew: the Elven King’s balcony hosted a silver-haired beauty.

—"Where did the beauty on the Elven King’s balcony come from?"

—"No idea. His stare gives me chills—it’s downright terrifying."

—"Still, why does he never leave? I’ve never seen him in the valley."

Thus, more and more elves began to pass by the balcony, just to steal a glance at the silver-haired beauty.

Some especially daring elves even tried to entice him out of the Elven King’s balcony.

"Want to join us for a stroll in the valley?"

"There’s a mountain-climbing event in the snowy peaks today."

"Care to attend the Full Moon Festival?"

But Elu merely gave the elves a passing glance before returning home to curl up with a book.

—For a reclusive deity, asking him to go on outings, climb snowy mountains, or attend festivals was asking too much.

However, the deity's prolonged unwillingness to go out gave rise to strange rumors among the elves. They whispered that the Elven King had brought back a foreign beauty never seen before, keeping him secluded at home… or perhaps even imprisoning him there.

The gossip grew increasingly intense, eventually damaging even the Elven King's reputation.

The council of elders hoped Percy would step forward to clarify. If this was a normal relationship, he ought to introduce the outsider to the clan and make it official through marriage, rather than keeping him confined at home as if he were a prisoner.

Percy was at a loss for words.

The Elven King coldly brushed off the topic: "He doesn’t want to go out."

One day after a meeting, Kemi grabbed the meeting notes and cornered Percy, wiggling his eyebrows as he tried to pry for information.

"Lord Percy, they say you’ve got a gorgeous foreign beauty hidden away—so, is it true?"

Percy brushed past him without a word.

Undeterred, Kemi circled around to the other side. "What kind of beauty is he? We're close, aren't we? Can’t you let me see?"

Percy kept walking.

Kemi kept at it, "Come on, what’s the big deal? Once you two get married, I could even be your best man or witness. You’ll need a best man, right?"

Percy paused mid-step, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Kemi perked up. "What does that mean? You’re not planning to marry him? You don’t want to take responsibility?"

—A foreign beauty had come alone to the heart of Pine Mountain for the Elven King, with no friends or family. He never left the house, his only daily pastime being standing on the balcony to gaze distantly at the valley. And yet, the Elven King didn’t want to take responsibility?

Kemi was shocked. "My King, how could you?"

His gaze was full of reproach. "This is too much."

Percy: "…"

He sighed quietly, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You misunderstand. It’s not that I don’t want to marry him."

It was just that Elu had never brought it up.

Marriage, contracts, promises—these meant little in the long lives of immortal beings. They were meaningless, not worth considering.

Would an ageless deity of Pine Mountain truly stand before all his kin, vow his love, exchange rings, and enter into marriage with a mere elf?