Li Yan woke up feeling like a heavy truck had run over his body for the second time since arriving in this world.
He blinked his eyes open, groaning softly as he tried to shift his weight on the massive bed.
Every muscle in his thighs and lower back ached with a deep, throbbing soreness.
He immediately looked down beneath the purple sheets and realized someone had already washed him and changed him into a clean, loose white robe while he was completely passed out.
The sticky, wet mess from the long night was gone, but the internal fullness remained.
A constant reminder of how his straight-man pride had been thoroughly crushed until dawn.
"Dammit," Li Yan muttered, his voice hoarse. He dragged himself to the edge of the mattress, his legs shaking so badly he almost hit the floor.
"Those two are absolute beasts."
Before he could even find his shoes, a soft chime echoed inside his mind.
The blue glass screen materialized in front of his face.
[Daily Mission: Attend the Morning Family Dinner with your bonded husbands.]
[Time remaining: 10 minutes. Penalty for failure: 220-volt soul shock.]
Li Yan glared at the glowing blue letters. "Family dinner? We are not a family. This is a hostile takeover."
Knowing the System would not hesitate to fry his soul, he forced his sore limbs to move.
He walked slowly out of the bedroom, holding onto the walls for support until he reached the grand dining room.
The long table was filled with various dishes of hot meat, fresh bread, and fruit.
But the atmosphere in the room was colder than ice.
Prince Jing Yuchen sat on the left side of the main head chair, dressed in formal royal robes.
General Zhen Sheng sat on the right, his military coat thrown carelessly over the back of his seat.
The only empty chair left was the one right in the middle, trapped directly between them.
"You are late, Mingxuan," Jing Yuchen said, his violet eyes tracking Li Yan’s slow, unstable steps with a sharp, calculating look.
"A proper spouse should be ready to greet his prince before the food grows cold."
"Cut him some slack, Your Highness," Zhen Sheng mocked, a wide grin spreading across his face.
He watched Li Yan carefully lower himself onto the middle chair with a soft wince. "The Duke had a very busy night. I am surprised he can even walk to the table this morning."
"Shut up," Li Yan snapped, his corporate voice returning as he stared straight ahead at his empty plate.
"I am here because I have to be. Let me eat in peace."
"Always so fierce," Zhen Sheng chuckled, picking up a silver knife to cut a piece of meat.
"But you were singing a very different tune a few hours ago, weren’t you?"
"General, your lack of manners is disgusting," Jing Yuchen said, his voice dripping with royal snobbery.
"It is clear that spending your life in dirty military camps with common soldiers has ruined your ability to speak at a proper table. You do not talk about the bedroom during a meal."
"Oh, I’m sorry, Prince," Zhen Sheng barked back, slamming his knife down with a loud clatter.
"Should I act like a snob like you? Maybe if you spent less time looking down your nose and more time actually leading your men, the border rebels wouldn’t be gaining ground."
Li Yan tried his best to block out their loud bickering. As a CEO, he was used to ignoring loud, useless arguments during intense board meetings.
He picked up a piece of bread and chewed it slowly, his sharp eyes scanning the high windows and the large glass doors that led to the courtyard.
There has to be a weakness in the house’s magical barrier, Li Yan thought, his mind working fast.
Every security system has a backdoor or a flaw. If I can find where the spiritual energy is weakest, I can buy my way out or find a way to break this stupid bond.
But his focus was violently shattered when he felt a large, warm hand slide beneath the white tablecloth.
Li Yan froze.
General Zhen Sheng’s calloused hand gripped Li Yan’s left thigh, his thick fingers squeezing the sore muscle with firm, deliberate pressure.
Before Li Yan could even scream, another hand slid under the cloth from the right side. Prince Jing Yuchen’s long, smooth fingers gripped his right thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles into Li Yan’s sensitive skin.
"What do you think you are doing?" Li Yan hissed, his face turning bright red as he tried to push their hands away beneath the table.
"Stop it! Let go of me!"
The two men did not stop. They continued to glare across the table at each other, trading insults while their hands moved higher up Li Yan’s bare thighs.
"The imperial budget is failing because the royal court spends too much on luxury," Zhen Sheng said smoothly.
His thumb slid dangerously close to Li Yan’s groin, making Li Yan’s hips give a small, involuntary twitch.
"The budget is fine, General. It is your bloated military demands that are the problem," Jing Yuchen replied coldly.
His hand squeezed tighter, his fingernails lightly scratching Li Yan’s inner thigh, causing a sharp rush of heat to explode straight to Li Yan’s lower half.
"Stop... please," Li Yan whispered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of his plate.
The clashing scents of hot cedar and cold ozone began to rise from their bodies, filling the space beneath the table.
The heavy pheromones entered Li Yan’s lungs, and against his absolute will, his new SS-Rank body began to react.
The internal moisture returned, slick and hot, soaking into his clean robe.
His breathing turned shallow, his eyes growing hazy as the pleasure from their touch began to dull his sharp business logic.
He hated this body. He hated how easily it turned on just from a smell and a touch.
"I’m leaving," Li Yan gasped out, suddenly pushing his chair back with a loud screech.
He stood up on his shaky legs, determined to escape the suffocating heat of the room.
But he didn’t even make it two steps.
Zhen Sheng’s arm shot out like a steel band, wrapping around Li Yan’s waist and pulling him backward with a rough yank.
Li Yan let out a sharp cry as he was lifted off his feet and dragged directly onto the general’s hard, muscular lap.
"Sit down, Duke. You haven’t finished your food," Zhen Sheng whispered darkly.
His large arms locked around Li Yan’s chest like a cage.
"Release him, brute," Jing Yuchen demanded, standing up from his chair.
He reached across, grabbing Li Yan’s wrist — right over the glowing golden chain tattoo — and pulling him toward his side of the table.
"He is the spouse of the Crown Prince. He belongs by my side, not on the lap of a common soldier."
"He is a bonded partner to both of us, Prince," Zhen Sheng sneered, tightening his grip on Li Yan’s waist so the prince couldn’t pull him away.
"Why don’t we let him decide? Tell us, Mingxuan. Who do you want to feed you this morning? The snobby prince who hides behind his magic, or the man who made you scream until your voice went dry?"
Li Yan was trapped between them, his body resting on the general’s hot thighs while his wrist was held firmly by the prince.
The sheer intensity of their possessive stares made him feel like he was being torn in half.
"I choose neither of you," Li Yan choked out, his straight-man pride flaring through the haze of the pheromones.
"I want both of you to go to hell."
The two men stared at him for a second, and then, to Li Yan’s utter frustration, they both let out a low, amused chuckle.
"A stubborn answer," Jing Yuchen murmured, his thumb rubbing against the golden tattoo on Li Yan’s wrist.
"But you will have to choose eventually, husband. We have all the time in the world inside this prison."