Lucien could have pulled his hand back,
But he didn't instead he looked up to the boy.
The boy's fingers were still tangled in his hair, not pushing him away, not guiding him closer either. Just… there. A reflex. A boundary drawn by the body, not the mind.
Lucien lifted his head slowly.
Eline's face was turned toward him, eyes closed, lashes resting dark against flushed skin. His lips were parted, breath uneven, as if he were still drowning in sensation — impossibly lewd and impossibly ethereal at the same time. Beautiful in a way that didn't feel human. Beautiful in a way that made Lucien hesitate.
The reason that he was stopped, he wanted to know but the boy didn't looked like he could answer.
The question burned behind his eyes.
He leaned down again, kissed him — harder this time, deeper — as if to shake the answer loose. Eline's grip loosened, his breath stuttered, his body arching despite itself. The heat surged, reckless, consuming.
Eventually Eline's hands reached his chest to stop him from suffocating him to death by a kiss.
Lucien took the opening.
He slid his hand lower, undoing the fabric with practiced ease, letting it fall away from Eline's hips.
Cool air brushed exposed skin.
That was what snapped Eline back.
Not fear — awareness.
His breath hitched sharply, eyes flying open as sensation rushed in too fast, too real. His hands moved on instinct, not thought, stopping Lucien at once — not pushing him away, just halting him, like a reflex carved too deep to ignore.
Lucien stilled.
His gaze followed Eline's movement downward — and then paused.
Not in horror.
In recalibration.
This wasn't what he had expected.
This wasn't what he had assumed.
And Lucien Valentino had not survived centuries by ignoring details that contradicted his control.
Eline saw it — that flicker in his eyes. Not revulsion. Not anger.
Assessment.
The heat between them faltered, thinning into something tense and sharp. Eline's body curled inward, hands trembling as he tried to cover himself, breath uneven — not from shame, but from the sudden, terrifying clarity of being seen.
Lucien went still.
For a fraction of a second, there was only shock—pure, unmasked surprise crossing his face.
Then something else followed.
Not revulsion.
Not anger.
Understanding.
His gaze softened, then sharpened again, lips curving almost imperceptibly—like a man who had just found a missing piece he hadn't known how to name.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
Eline's face drained of color. His mind fractured into two voices at once—one screaming run, hide, you've been exposed—the other drowning in the lingering heat, aching, traitorous, wanting what his body had already tasted.
Lucien leaned closer, voice low, amused in a way that made Elin's skin prickle.
"Look at this little bee," he said quietly, almost fondly.
"Hiding a flower underneath."
The words landed like a spell.
Eline shook, chest rising and falling too fast, eyes glassy with fear and confusion. He didn't understand why Lucien was smiling—why the tension in the room had twisted instead of broken.
Then Lucien moved.
The kiss that followed was nothing like before.
Harder. Deeper. Possessive.
It stole Eline's breath, crushed his thoughts, dragged him back into the heat he'd tried to escape. His body betrayed him instantly, arching into the contact even as his mind screamed protest.
Two selves at war inside him—one terrified of being seen, the other aching to be consumed.
Lucien didn't speak again.
He didn't need to.
The kiss deepened, slowed, then intensified again, drawing breath from him until his knees weakened. Lucien felt it—felt the way Eline sagged slightly against him, body responding even as his mind struggled to keep up.
Lucien broke the kiss only when Eline gasped sharply, lungs burning.
He stayed close, forehead brushing Eline's temple, breath warm against his ear.
"You're going to drive everyone insane," he murmured.
There was no teasing in it. Just quiet certainty.
Before Eline could respond—before he could even think—Lucien's mouth trailed down again. Along his jaw. His throat. Lingering where his pulse raced too fast to hide.
His hands trailed down rubbing the folds of his flower, which was already wet with honey leaking down from it.
His fingers made their way into the slippery entrance getting covered into the slik, exploring the walls and rubbing it.His fingers stretching the insides,going in and out making a very lewd sound.
Eline's pelvice moved more to the touch ,leaning into it.he was to protect this secret forever but mind hazy with desire and body drowned in heat and pleasure couldn't let him.he was all naked under a man that he couldn't meet eyes with and it was driving him crazy.
Lucien withdrew just enough to breathe, his control visibly strained. His gaze stayed on Eline as if looking away might shatter whatever fragile restraint he still had.
"Then let us make use of that flower of yours to make the fruit.," he murmured. a statement, heavy with intent.
Before Eline could gather himself, Lucien leaned back in. His mouth returned to Eline's chest, unhurried this time, as if he were learning him—pressing warmth where Eline's breath hitched, lingering where his body reacted despite his mind's protests.
Eline's back arched without permission.
Lucien's hands slid beneath him and lifted him effortlessly from the bed. Eline found himself held upright, his body supported entirely in Lucien's palms, drawn close—secure, contained, exposed all at once. The position left no space for distance, no room to pretend this was anything but intimate.
Lucien kept him there, mouth still at his chest, movements deliberate, possessive in a way that felt less like hunger and more like claim. Eline's fingers curled into Lucien's shoulders, his breathing uneven, the world narrowing to touch, heat, and the quiet realization that Lucien was no longer testing boundaries.
He was settling in.
Eline's body shuddered when he felt a stretch in his entrance, it didn't took him long to realise what it was.it was stretching his entrance trying to make a way in.
A soft yet hot moan left his mouth when he felt his inside full.
After sometime lucien stared to move a little and it cached a rythem soon,he was moving slowly and deliberately. Eline's head arched back ,his mind melting into pleasure and his body shaking overwhelmed with pleasure.
Whatever resistance remained slipped quietly out of reach, replaced by a strong, inevitable pull that drew his body closer, closer—until there was nothing left to do but yield to the rhythm taking shape between them
The night held its breath.
And somewhere between heartbeat and darkness, where Eline's mind let go of everything that he ever held.