Zephyr drew in a sharp, deep breath before letting out a low, dark chuckle. He lowered his head, pressing his lips close to Lucien's ear—who was still buried against his neck—and whispered in a voice thick with desire.
"Cien... do you have any idea what you're doing right now?"
The figure above him trembled but offered no answer. Zephyr's voice, ringing softly in Lucien's ear, was unnervingly calm—so steady it felt bewitching, sending a sharp shiver down his spine. Barely suppressing the groan caught in his parted lips, Lucien forced his head up—only for his nose to bump against that familiar, sharp jawline.
He let out a faint, breathless cry of accusation, his fingers tightening around Zephyr's clothes. The frantic thumping of the heart beneath his hands—a wild rhythm that mirrored his own—became the only steadying force against the molten heat flooding his body. It was an onslaught that threatened to drown him, pulling him deeper into a haze of pure, unadulterated sensation.
