Elian had made himself invisible by retiring to his room.
But before he left, he saw how Lucien’s attention was completely shifted away from him. Rowena was back, and whatever he thought was building up around them was shattered like a brittle brick.
He rid himself of his clothing and stepped inside his bath, soaking in the warm water to cleanse himself of the Duke’s gentle touch. Those memories in the cabin... he would cherish them. They were proof that inside the monster lived a man who was capable of feeling, a man who was ready to lower his guards and let someone in, a man who knew not only coldness but warmth and extreme gentleness.
All those things made Elian wonder exactly what had happened between Lucien and Lysandra. His instinct told him that every little darkness Lucien had gathered started with Lysandra, and it was eating at his soul to know what had eaten Lucien’s soul away.
He was meant to hate him. He was meant to plot his death, just like Lucien did his father’s. But a silly idea was forming in his mind, and if his mother dared to hear this from him, she would kill him herself.
In some deep, crazy part of his soul, he was starting to believe that perhaps... Lucien was innocent in all this? Perhaps, just like Elian, Lucien was someone else’s puppet?
Elian could no longer comfortably digest the idea that the man who had acted so gentle to him, spoken so softly, and made love to him like he was the most fragile man on earth was capable of murder. But again, Cassian did warn him... those nobles weren’t what they seemed to portray.
Even the friendliest of them like Rowena might turn out to be the mastermind behind everyone’s peril. So, Elian had to make sure his guard was never let down, not even in front of a vulnerable, sexy Duke.
His heart still ached from watching Lucien kiss Rowena... "Same lips he kissed me with..." he murmured, gliding his fingers across the water’s surface.
"She was... is his wife-to-be. I’m the nobody... yet, here I am feeling like I’ve been betrayed by my lover..." He paused, staring at his feet under the water.
Lover?
Was he insane?
How dare he refer to the Duke as his lover? He was more like a pastime, and once the Duke got officially wedded to Rowena, he would be cast out like the ’nothing’ that he was.
With a bleeding heart, Elian washed himself and tied his heavy towel around his waist. He needed to find his mother and question her about anything she knew regarding the incidents prior to his father’s death.
Why not just touch her hand and find out? No, he won’t; he never used it on his parents because there was no use to. He trusted them, and so did they him. His mother would never lie to him, and he would believe every single word she spoke like his life depended on it.
What was there to lie for?
He walked over to his closet and was about to pick up his brown pants when his door slowly opened.
He snapped his head around to find Lucien standing there with an unreadable expression. His heart flipped, eyes widening slightly in disbelief.
"Why... why are you here?" he murmured under his breath.
With a soft click, Lucien locked the door and quietly strode toward Elian, each step shortening their distance and heightening the tension between them.
Elian gulped, staying right where he was to see what the Duke wanted from him.
Lucien paused right in front of Elian, his eyes drinking in Elian’s freshly flushed skin from the bath, his glistening damp skin, that lavender scent that always made him lose his mind... he was losing his mind.
"Your Grace..." Elian called very quietly.
In response, Lucien lowered his forehead onto Elian’s shoulder, his arms slowly wrapping around Elian’s waist and pulling him closer.
Elian gasped softly by how closely Lucien was pressing him; he didn’t know how to react or what to say to Lucien simply hugging him. It was strange.
"Your Grace—"
"Shh... quiet..." Lucien whispered against Elian’s neck, "Let me hold you for a moment..." he begged softly.
Elian blinked slowly, feeling the slow tug on his chest for the man hugging him. He felt Lucien’s steady heartbeat, his warm breath against his skin, the heavy, unseen weight rolling off of his shoulders, and the darkness crowding around him like unwanted shields.
Gradually, he lifted his arms and wrapped them around Lucien’s shoulders, choosing to comfort the monster.
The moment Lucien felt Elian’s arms around his shoulders, a soft sigh escaped his lips and he suddenly lifted Elian off the floor, wrapping his legs around his waist.
"Your Grace," Elian gasped, but his legs were already anchored on Lucien’s waist, locking him in.
"What are you doing, Your Grace?" Elian whispered.
Lucien lifted his face, gazing into Elian’s eyes as his hands held Elian firmly by the waist. "Lucien..." he whispered, his hand sliding down Elian’s thigh and inside his towel to cup his ass, "It’s Lucien whenever it’s just us," he murmured huskily, eyes darkening slowly.
Elian’s breath hitched, lips parting in soft gasps as Lucien’s large hand kneaded his softness. He swallowed hard and inhaled shakily.
"Yes... uhm, Lucien. What are you doing here? You have visitors—"
"You said it yourself..." Lucien cut Elian off, nibbling gently at the point between Elian’s neck and collarbone, "I’m obsessed." He smirked, bringing their lips closer.
"Like an addict... I get crazy when I haven’t had you," he whispered hotly against Elian’s lips, breaths mingling as their sharp-drawn breaths filled the room.
Elian licked his lips in anticipation, eyes flying to Lucien’s thin lips, "But you had me last night, Lucien... multiple times," he reasoned softly.
"Not enough." He darted his tongue out and licked a slow stripe across Elian’s bottom lip. "You didn’t let me have my morning dose..." The hand on Elian’s ass moved further, fingers running through the opening.
Elian shivered, heart hammering in excitement, guilt, and lust. Lucien’s middle finger rimmed his opening, sending jolts of tingles traveling down his spine and toes.
"Lucien... we shouldn’t—"
"Spit," Lucien ordered huskily, bringing his hand to Elian’s mouth, dark eyes locked in command.
Shuddering, Elian’s protest died in his throat. Like the slutty little whore he was, he spat onto Lucien’s fingers and watched the satisfied smirk appear on the Duke’s face before he returned his hand back to his ass.
With the wet finger, Lucien rubbed slow circles around Elian’s home before slowly easing one in.
"Oh, my... Lucien," Elian gasped at the angle, his arms tightening around Lucien’s neck for support.
Lucien growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Elian’s skin. "You’re so fucking tight, Elian... even for my finger." He pushed deeper, curling the digit slowly, deliberately stroking along Elian’s inner walls until he found that sensitive spot and pressed firmly.
Elian’s breath hitched sharply, his legs tightening around Lucien’s waist as pleasure sparked hot through his core. "Lucien—ahh..." His head fell back, exposing the elegant line of his throat. Lucien took full advantage, sucking a dark mark just below his collarbone while slowly pumping his finger in and out, adding a second one with careful, slick stretches.
The wet, obscene sounds of Lucien’s gloved fingers fucking into Elian’s hole filled the room—slow and sensual at first, scissoring gently, then curling and rubbing with devastating precision.
Elian whimpered, hips rocking helplessly onto the invading digits, his towel long fallen to the floor. His cock was hard and leaking against Lucien’s stomach, leaving a shiny trail with every small movement.
"So greedy," Lucien murmured hotly against his ear, voice rough with lust. "You’re not as innocent as you look, riding my fingers like you were born for it. Does it feel good, baby? Tell me." He twisted his wrist, pressing harder against Elian’s prostate until the smaller man cried out softly, nails digging into Lucien’s shoulders.
"Yes—fuck, Lucien... deeper—" Elian begged, shameless and breathless. The sensual drag of those thick fingers had him trembling, hole clenching rhythmically around them as more slick sounds echoed between them.
Lucien’s control frayed. With a dark curse, he backed Elian hard against the sturdy wooden closet door, the impact rattling it slightly. He pinned him there with his body, fingers never stopping their filthy rhythm—now thrusting faster, scissoring wider, stretching Elian open while his mouth claimed him in a bruising kiss.
"You drive me insane," Lucien snarled against Elian’s lips. He withdrew his fingers abruptly, making Elian whine at the loss, only to free his own throbbing cock from his trousers. In one powerful motion, he hoisted Elian higher against the closet, lined himself up, and thrust in hard—burying every thick inch to the hilt in one brutal stroke.
Elian screamed in pleasure, the sound muffled by Lucien’s mouth as the Duke fucked him hard and hot against the wood. No more slow lovemaking. This was raw, possessive claiming. Lucien’s hips snapped forward with punishing force, slamming deep again and again, the closet creaking violently with every thrust. The angle was perfect—Lucien’s cock dragging relentlessly over Elian’s prostate, filling him completely.
"Take it," Lucien growled, teeth grazing Elian’s jaw. "Take every fucking inch, my desperate little slut." His gloved hands gripped Elian’s ass, spreading him wider as he pounded into him without mercy, sweat-slick skin slapping loudly.
Elian could only moan and sob, legs locked tight around Lucien’s waist, body jolting with every savage thrust. The hard, relentless rhythm quickly pushed him over the edge. With a broken cry of Lucien’s name, he came hard, spilling between their bodies in thick pulses while his hole clenched violently around the Duke’s cock.
Lucien followed with a guttural groan, burying himself deep and flooding Elian with hot, endless ropes of cum as he rode out his orgasm with shallow, grinding thrusts. They stayed locked together against the closet, panting harshly, Lucien’s face buried in Elian’s neck as the aftershocks trembled through them both.
"Fuck... Elian... you’re..." He gulped loudly, kissing Elian softly.
Elian was still moaning softly, sweat breaking out on his forehead as he kissed Lucien back with the same gentleness.
He was doomed, doomed to crave Lucien’s touch.
"What’s your secret?" Elian suddenly whispered, unable to contain his curiosity.
Almost immediately, Elian pulled away from him and pulled his pants up, eyes glancing at the way his cum trickled down Elian’s and quickly looking away.
He stepped away, turning his back on Elian.
Elian bit his lip, picking up his towel to wrap around his waist.
"Lucien..." He called quietly, walking toward him, slowly tracing his hand down Lucien’s arm, and just when he was about to touch Lucien’s hand, Lucien moved away from him.
"You can tell me, Lucien... we can—"
"We can’t, Elian," Lucien snapped, turning to face Elian.
Elian gulped, heart shuddering in pain from Lucien’s blatant shutdown.
"We can’t do anything other than... this," Lucien pointed between them, "you don’t get to ask me anything... don’t ruin this—"
"I just want to understand you, Lucien, or I am going to believe you’re really a monster—"
"I am a monster!" Lucien growled, eyes darkening.
Elian froze, staring at Lucien with misty eyes, fists balling beside him, "Then... this means nothing?" he asked shakily.
Lucien chuckled dryly, "Do not forget your place, Young Morel... of course, this means nothing. Do not forget your place." With that, he turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking softly.
Elian stood there, his tears finally falling freely.
This was what it was going to be like with Lucien: hot and cold.
One might think Elian was bitter, but no, he was determined. He must find a way to penetrate Lucien’s soul.
Finding out Lucien’s secret might be the tool to figuring out his father’s death.
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