Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 32: Call Me by My Name

[Elves’ Village—Leif’s POV—Continuation]

One of the elves leaned forward, golden eyes sharp as a blade. "What is it you want, human?" Then their brow furrowed. "Do not tell us you wish to exploit us, as so many humans do."

I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Oh, no, nothing like that! Since I am graciously offering you my Crimson Packs"—I gestured toward my wolves, who promptly yawned in perfect dramatics—"I would like... your assistance with sothing. A small favor with the Trivium Core Stone."

Both elves exchanged a look, serious as mountain stone. One finally spoke, voice low and deliberate: "You an the stone with the power of sun, water, and air?"

I nodded. "Exactly. I’ve heard your skill with these stones is unmatched. What I ask is simple: craft jewelry from them. In exchange, my Crimson Packs are yours to use as needed. And if you wish, you may keep twenty percent of the profits from the jewelry we sell."

. . .

. . .

They glanced at each other again, silent for a long, tense mont, before one humd thoughtfully. "Hmph... we do not mind. But... these stones are rare. You are certain you can supply them?"

I smirked, letting a hint of mischief creep into my voice. "Oh, absolutely. My village practically has them growing like weeds. You won’t go hungry for Trivium Stones, I promise."

A pause. Then the other elf’s eyes sharpened. "And... how do we know we can trust you, human? What if you return to your kind and break your word?"

I blinked.

They seem to have trust issues here.

"We can put it in writing. A deal, signed and sealed with my own hand. You may set your conditions and lock it with your magic if you like." I said and continued, "And while we’re at it, let’s talk dicine. My villagers will need your redies, and we can share the profits equally—fairly, transparently, without any trickery."

They glanced at each other.

As a modern-day salaryman, I Negotiated deals, maximized profits, and kept everyone happy—at least, on paper. So yes, you could say I’m very comfortable with contracts, percentages, and making sure all parties walk away with a win.

. . .

. . .

The first elf tilted his head, considering, the second one silent but thoughtful. After a long beat, the first finally said, "Very well... human. Give us ti to consider your words. We will consult with our village and answer you by tomorrow morning."

I bowed slightly. "Of course. Take your ti."

The elves inclined their heads. "Until then... you may remain here in our village."

I nodded, trying to look composed despite the throbbing in my knees. The two elves rose, their movents graceful and precise, like shadows sliding over the floor. One of them handed a small, carved bowl filled with a fragrant green paste.

"Rub this on your wounds, human," he said softly. "They will heal."

"Oh... yes. Thank you very much."

***

[Elves’ Guest Room—Later]

I was crumbling the last piece of cookie peacefully between my fingers, enjoying every last bite, until—

"Ouch..." I hissed as Alvar pressed the cool, green paste onto my scraped knees. "Be careful... it hurts."

He didn’t look at and just kept applying more with that sa calm expression. "Stay still, Leif."

"But it stings."

"I’ll be careful. Just... endure it for a mont."

I let out a shaky exhale, trying not to flinch. The paste was cold, seeping into the cuts, leaving a tingling burn behind. I bit into the cookie again, crumbs falling to my lips.

"Grand Duke..." I mumbled around the bite.

"Hm?"

"Do you really think they’ll agree to the deal?"

"They need you more than we need them," he answered gently, fingers steady as they rubbed the paste in slow, deliberate strokes. "But I didn’t expect the dicine proposal to co from you. Very clever of you."

I puffed my chest with exaggerated pride. "Well... dicines are also our daily essentials. Our villagers need them. And since elves are the best with herbs, it only makes sense."

Alvar finally slid closer, sitting beside . "Show your hand."

I stretched my arm toward him, and he carefully examined the scratches along my skin, rubbing the sa green paste across them.

"I just hope Count Viktor declares your territory independent soon," he murmured, voice low, almost thoughtful. "Before the news of the elves reaches the Imperial Court."

I nodded, crumbling the last bit of cookie between my fingers. "Father left with more determination than usual. I think we’ll receive good news soon."

"Alright," Alvar said softly, finishing the last of the treatnt. "It’s done."

He pulled off his gloves with quiet precision. I stretched my arms, letting my body sink into the bed. "I... feel tired," I murmured, yawning into the blanket.

But when I glanced at him, he wasn’t moving away. He was just... staring at . His gaze lingered far too long, too steady, too heavy.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

His hand lifted, thumb brushing against my lower lip. "There are cookie crumbs."

"Oh..." My tongue darted out, licking my lips quickly. "Is it clean now?"

His eyes darkened, his blue gaze sharpening like a predator scenting prey. His voice dipped, rough and magnetic. "Are you... trying to seduce ?"

. . .

. . .

I blinked at him, flat and unimpressed. "Licking cookie crumbs off my lips is seducing?"

"YES."

A smirk tugged at my lips. "Just admit you’re horny, Grand Duke. Why bla it on ?"

His mouth curved in the faintest shadow of a smile, but his gaze burned hotter. He leaned closer, breath fanning across my cheek as he murmured, "Then let’s say I am horny."

My heart skipped. "Eh—"

Before I could finish, his hand slid behind my neck, strong fingers threading into my hair, and he pulled forward in one smooth, unyielding motion.

His lips crashed against mine.

The kiss was nothing polite, nothing careful—it was fire and steel, hungry and demanding. His mouth moved against mine with heat that stole my breath, his tongue sweeping past my lips before I could even think of resisting.

I gasped into him, "Mmh—hng—," and that was all the invitation he needed. The hand at my neck held firmly in place, keeping trapped against his mouth as if he’d been starving for this. His other arm slid around my waist, dragging against his chest, pinning in the warmth of his body.

I clutched his shoulders, torn between pushing him back and pulling him closer. My chest burned, my lips tingled, and my thoughts were a ss.

"Mmm—Grand duke—" I broke off, lips swollen, gasping.

He caught my mouth with his thumb, brushing across the damp curve of my lips. "Call by my na."

I gripped the front of his shirt tighter, desperate for air, desperate for him. "But—"

He didn’t let argue. With a firm tug, he pulled up and onto his lap, straddling him as though I belonged there. His voice was low, edged with command and sothing dangerously soft.

"Call by my na, Leif."

My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. His eyes held captive, my heart hamring loud enough I was sure he could hear it. My lips parted, shaky, uncertain—

"Alv... Alvar."

The sound of it seed to snap sothing inside him. His lips curved into a rough smile. "Gosh... you’re far too good at seducing ."

Before I could scoff or argue, his mouth claid mine again—slower this ti, yet devastatingly deep. His kiss tasted of hunger barely restrained, every press of his lips coaxing, demanding, unraveling piece by piece.

Then his lips trailed lower, ghosting along my jaw, down to my throat. The scrape of his teeth grazed my skin before his mouth closed over the tender flesh. Heat spiked through as he sucked, nibbled, and kissed, leaving sparks dancing along every nerve.

"Ahh—Alvar..." My voice broke, his na tumbling out between breaths.

One of his hands wrapped around my waist, steadying firmly in his lap, pulling flush against the solid strength of his body. The other hand slipped beneath the hem of my shirt, fingers brushing over my bare skin, slow and deliberate.

His touch was hot, calloused, and reverent yet possessive as it slid upward.

My body shivered under his touch—his mouth worshipping my throat, his hand exploring further beneath my thin shirt.

And ?

I clung to his shoulders, nails digging in lightly as heat pooled low in my belly.

Then he paused. His lips lingered against my skin, but his eyes lifted to mine—burning, unguarded.

"Leif... you have no idea what you do to ." His voice was low, almost reverent, like a confession pulled from the deepest part of him. His thumb brushed along my jaw as he added, quieter still, "I never imagined that liking n—no... liking you—could feel this incredible."

My heart thundered against his chest, every word sinking into like fire. My breath caught, trapped sowhere between disbelief and the ache swelling inside .

And then, his lips curved in a raw, hungry smile. His forehead pressed to mine as he whispered, "Tonight... I want you to Moan my na, Leif."