Lucien strokes a lock of hair away from Kazia’s face. “I think you like hiding behind that brave, stubborn mask. You’re so used to being stoic. I kind of like the idea of feeling if I hurt you, so I know to stop.”
Kazia reels in place.
Using his affliction to avoid hurting him? The thought had never occurred to Kazia. Nor to anyone who’s ever gotten this close to him. He struggles to wrap his mind around it. For some reason, his eyes sting.
“You can’t just say shit like that,” Kazia whispers.
“I’m not even saying half of it.” Lucien kisses beneath Kazia’s eyes, barely there and all-consuming. “You’d be furious if you knew the sentimental bullshit I’m thinking right now.”
“I’m already furious.” Kazia pulls away to wipe his eyes, then leans back in. “Now, fuck me. No null-ring.”
Lucien kisses him again, then glances around the room. Every candle and lantern flares to life—but none so bright as the man pushing Kazia to the bed.
Kazia leaves Lucien to struggle with his clothes. Each unnecessary button and buckle buys Kazia more time to explore Lucien’s body. Kazia can’t believe he’s allowed to do this.
No, Lucien doesn’t just allow his touch. He welcomes it.
The freckles are fainter below Lucien’s waist, but still present. Kazia traces a constellation on Lucien’s thigh, through soft red-gold hair, until—
“Arms up,” Lucien says, and drags Kazia’s shirt over his head. Once it’s free, he pushes Kazia onto the pillow. Kisses the start of a protest from his lips. “I’ll let you jerk me off some other time. Right now, I want to come in your adorable little ass.”
The promise ofsome other timeerases any complaint. Kazia winds his arms around Lucien’s neck—then freezes as he hits leather and metal.
“Take the collar off too,” Kazia says quietly.
Lucien sits back up, reaching for the buckle. “Why, did you want to wear it instead?”
It’s a joke. Clearly. But to Kazia’s embarrassment, he doesn’t hate the idea. “Not tonight,” he says, looking away.
“Not tonight?” Lucien echoes with dangerous relish. Discarded metal clunks against the rug. “You’re a kinky little fuck, aren’t you?”
“It’s not like that.” Kazia fiddles with his hair, trying to articulate what he doesn’t quite understand. He doesn’t want to obey. “I’m not sure what it’s like, but not that.”
“I think I know.” Lucien stretches out on his side, and touches Kazia’s bare stomach. “You don’t want to be controlled, but you want to be guided. You want an arm around you, to catch you if you stumble.”
That makes too much sense, in ways Kazia is afraid of examining right now.
“Sometimes when you push, it’s because you want someone to push back,” Lucien continues. “To prove they care. Roll over.”
Kazia rolls over, not because Lucien told him to, but because burying his face in the pillow is easier than facing that crystal-clear gaze. He braces himself, an intoxicating blend of nervous anticipation, as Lucien slides his trousers down his thighs, then away. Each touch blazes down his legs.
The next touch falls between Kazia’s shoulder blades.
If Kazia’s goals tonight weren’t so urgent, he would be happy to let Lucien massage him until dawn. Lucien’s hands are warmer than human hands should be, more soothing than any warming talisman.
“Is this all right?” Lucien asks, moving to Kazia’s upper arms.
Kazia needs Lucien’s hands exactly where they are, but also everywhere else at once. “I don’t hate it.”
This is the third time Lucien has touched his bare back. There’s no hallabark ointment tonight, no welts drawing a mapacross Kazia’s skin. But each gentle touch finds phantom scars, soothing skin and memory alike.
Kazia melts into the mattress. “Are your hands so warm because of your magic?”
“That’s right.” Lucien doesn’t pause his unhurried exploration of Kazia’s waist. “I can stop it or go hotter, if you want.”
“No, this is perfect.” Kazia squirms as Lucien reaches his lower back, then his ass. “I mean, it’s fine.”
Lucien kisses Kazia’s back, breath tickling. “I live for your praise, Your Highness.” His thumb dips into Kazia’s cleft. “Let’s see if I can earn a little more.”
