From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 755: Say ‘Baby’ One More Time and I’ll Fold

Micah’s eyelids fluttered open slowly, as though his consciousness had not yet fully decided to return to him. His thoughts were sluggish, still wrapped in the haze of sleep, and for several long seconds he did not move at all. His gaze remained unfocused, drifting aimlessly, until it settled, quite abruptly, on something directly in front of him.

It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing. There, only inches from his face, was the unmistakable outline of an Adam’s apple.

It rose and fell faintly with each breath, pale against smooth skin, its shape defined in a way that was almost... captivating.

The slope of his neck and the faint tension beneath the skin combined into something that his still-muddled mind found undeniably attractive, almost too alluring for his senses to handle.

Micah blinked. Then he leaned in closer, a mix of confusion and desire swirling in his mind, and before he knew it, he took a playful bite.

"Ouch!"

The exclamation rang out above him, sharp with surprise and laced with groggy irritation.

Micah, however, remained exactly where he was, his teeth still pressed lightly against the skin as though his mind had yet to catch up with what his body had already done.

"Baby," the voice continued, low and rough with sleep, yet threaded with unmistakable amusement, "I know I am sweet and, apparently, quite irresistible, but I do have a meeting with several rather influential individuals in the government today. Appearing with a mark like that would make your husband seem... unreasonably frivolous."

Clyde let out a quiet sigh at the end of his sentence, though it was far from genuinely exasperated. His voice was raspy, clearly indicating that he had just woken up moments ago.

Micah, still caught up in the delightful taste of Clyde’s skin, froze at the sound of his voice. Gradually, his foggy mind began to clear.

He slowly lifted his head. His eyes traced upward from the Adam’s apple he had just been nibbling on, following the line of the neck to the strong, angular jaw, the defined slope of the chin, and finally, to Clyde’s face.

For one brief, utterly irrational moment, Micah leaned in again and, almost absentmindedly, dragged his tongue across the same spot before pulling away.

It took a second, perhaps two, before Micah actually processed the words. His thoughts, previously sluggish and indistinct, snapped into sharp, mortifying clarity. The word echoed in his mind. Baby.

It reverberated through him, soft and dangerous, carrying a warmth that spread far too quickly through his chest. His heart gave an unsteady flutter, betraying him without hesitation.

He had always had a weakness for that word. It was unfair.

His eyelashes trembled faintly before he tilted his head back, forcing himself to look up properly.

Clyde was already looking down at him. There was amusement in his eyes. No, more than that. There was something gentler beneath it, something undeniably affectionate.

"Good morning, love," Clyde said, his voice warm, his lips curving into a soft smile that felt far too natural for Micah’s comfort.

Micah’s ears flushed almost instantly, a deep, unmistakable red spreading across them. He was still not used to this, to the ease with which Clyde spoke such words, to how naturally they seemed to come to him, to how they made something in his chest tighten and soften at the same time.

He lowered his head quickly, avoiding Clyde’s gaze as though it might burn him.

"Morning," he muttered under his breath, his voice quiet and slightly hoarse.

Clyde’s smile only deepened. Without hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss against Micah’s forehead, lingering just long enough to make the gesture feel deliberate.

In that moment, Micah became acutely aware of how he was cradled in Clyde’s arms like a small child. He stiffened slightly before attempting to shift, intending to slide down and free himself from the hold. However, the moment he moved, he felt it.

Something firm. Something very much present.

He paused. Slowly, he looked up at Clyde again, his expression shifting into one of disbelief mixed with immediate irritation.

"Huh," he let out, a short, unimpressed sound. "Figures."

Without hesitation, he pushed himself away and dropped onto the mattress, putting a noticeable amount of distance between them. He crossed his arms and glared.

"I should have known," he said flatly. "You are always like this when that part of you... decides to wake up." Micah shot a pointed look at Clyde’s lower part.

Clyde looked down at his now-empty arms, his expression briefly blank before he exhaled.

"You’re really hard to please, you know that?" he replied, his tone carrying a trace of helpless amusement. "You were the one clinging to me the entire night, to the extent that I could not feel my arms or my legs by the end of it. Yet now, you seem dissatisfied that I had a... perfectly natural reaction."

He tilted his head slightly, as though genuinely pondering the situation. "I’m sure if I had been completely unresponsive, you would have lectured me about it too."

He shook his head faintly, as though resigned to an unsolvable dilemma.

Micah opened his mouth, ready to retort... And then stopped. The momentum drained from him almost instantly as fragments of the previous night resurfaced in his mind.

He had been talking to Darcy, crying, and apologising for who knew how long. And when Clyde had arrived? He couldn’t remember seeing the man but he could still recall the calming scent of sandalwood that surrounded him, bringing him a sense of comfort.

So, Clyde had stayed with him out of concern, huh?

Micah cleared his throat softly, his earlier irritation faltering into something far less certain. He looked away, his lips pressing together before he spoke again, quieter this time. "Thank you..." he muttered.

"It is always my pleasure to hold you," Clyde teased, eyes full of amusement.

Micah huffed and turned his back on him.

Clyde chuckled and shifted slightly, stretching his arms and legs. A faint hiss escaped him.

Micah’s head snapped back immediately, concern replacing everything else. "Are they still numb?" he asked quickly. "Let me just..."

He moved closer without waiting for an answer, reaching out to grasp Clyde’s leg first, then his arm, pressing and kneading carefully.

His expression was serious, focused entirely on what he was doing.

Clyde watched him in silence. His expression softened immediately.

Several minutes passed like that. Gradually, the numbness receded. Sensation returned.

Clyde flexed his fingers slightly before moving forward, wrapping his arms around Micah once again, this time more deliberately.

"Did the two of you have a proper conversation last night?" he asked quietly, his voice close to Micah’s ear. "Did you manage to resolve what was weighing on both of you?"

Micah leaned into him without resistance, resting comfortably within the embrace.

"Mmm..." he hummed softly. "I think... if those four apologise to him now... he might finally be able to move forward too..."

Clyde lowered his head, pressing his face into the crook of Micah’s neck. "Then..." he murmured, his voice dropping lower, "can you focus on me now?"

Micah’s lips twitched faintly. He was thinking about how Clyde was always so perceptive and could see through him, sensing that he had talked about his past with Darcy. And then, the next, he would become... this. Almost childish. Demanding attention in a way that felt both deliberate and oddly spoiled.

Micah did not respond immediately.

Clyde’s hold tightened slightly. He shifted closer, nuzzling against Micah’s neck, his breath warm against sensitive skin.

"Baby..." he murmured, the word softer this time, almost coaxing. "Can we go somewhere? Just the two of us?"

His voice lowered further, carrying a faint edge of vulnerability that felt... suspiciously intentional.

"Can you give me your attention for a while?" he continued. "Do you have any idea how it felt, seeing you cry in someone else’s arms?" He paused briefly before adding, quieter still, "You know he has feelings for you."

Micah shivered slightly as the warm breath brushed past his ear.

"It was... difficult not to react," Clyde admitted. "Do you not feel even a little sorry for me? Am I not your boyfriend? Is it unreasonable to want you to myself for a single day?"

Micah exhaled slowly. He realised he would be a fool not to recognise Clyde’s tactics. He was coaxing him into agreeing, using all the things he knew Micah couldn’t resist. From calling him "baby" to breathing into his sensitive ear, and making him feel guilty.

He raised his hand and pressed it firmly against Clyde’s face, pushing him away just enough to create space.

"Fine," he said, exasperation creeping back into his voice. "Fine. I will go check on Ilyas and Darcy first. After that, we can go somewhere."

Clyde immediately caught his hand before he could pull it away. "Promise?" he asked.

Micah froze, staring at Clyde. For a brief moment, he thought he saw two golden ears drooping down like a sad puppy.

He cleared his throat. "...Promise," he said.

Clyde smiled, satisfied, and reached out to ruffle his hair. "Good," he said lightly. "I will look forward to it."

Micah huffed under his breath, turning his face away. "Shameless," he muttered. "Glib-tongued..."

Clyde only smiled. "Do you need fresh clothes?" he asked. "Or are you going to see them like this?"

Micah glanced down at himself, then around the room. "Right," he said. "Where are we?"

"A room in the ophthalmology ward," Clyde replied. "The two of you were rather... engrossed in your conversation and took a wrong turn, and you ended up here. Fortunately, it is not a particularly crowded area."

Micah scratched his cheek. Last night had truly been chaotic. He tugged at his wrinkled shirt, then lifted it slightly to sniff. His expression immediately soured. "...Can I shower first?" he asked.

Clyde nodded. "Of course. I will have my assistant bring fresh clothes. The room is reserved, no one will disturb you."

Micah did not need to be told twice. He headed straight for the bathroom, washing up quickly but thoroughly, letting the water clear away the remnants of exhaustion.

By the time he stepped out again, dressed in clean clothes, Clyde had already changed as well.

"Let’s go," Micah said.

The walk to Ilyas’s room was not long, but Micah found himself growing increasingly aware of his own thoughts.

He was going to see Darcy. And with that realisation came a wave of delayed embarrassment. He remembered crying. Remembered losing control. And worse, Darcy had seen it. Had even teased him for it. Micah’s cheeks flushed faintly.

When they arrived, Clyde knocked once before opening the door and stepping inside.

Micah followed. He scanned the room and spotted a gloomy figure slumped in the corner. At first, he thought it was a mushroom, but upon closer inspection, he realised it more resembled the world’s saddest panda than a mushroom.

Confused, Micah stared.

Darcy was sitting on the spare bed, his eyes heavy with dark circles. His hair was dishevelled, and he slumped with an air of defeat. He looked exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted.

"What the hell? What happened to you?" Micah blurted out, momentarily forgetting his earlier embarrassment.

Darcy lifted his head slowly. His eyes looked... lifeless. "You are as energetic as always," he said flatly. "It must be nice."

Micah frowned, glancing briefly at Clyde before looking back. "What? What? Did I do something?" he asked.

Darcy rubbed his tired eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue. "No... sorry. I couldn’t sleep for a second last night."

"Was it because of me?" Micah asked hesitantly, feeling guilty.

Darcy met his gaze. "Of course not. I’m just not used to sleeping in unfamiliar places. Don’t take it personally."

Micah raised an eyebrow, sceptical. He could have sworn Darcy had never looked this way after staying overnight anywhere, whether it was their apartment, the dorm, the Palmer house in the north, or the villa in the south.

Something was off. Micah’s gaze lingered on him, suspicion slowly forming.

...Did something happen with Ilyas?