The doors slammed shut behind Kyrell.
Lucian stood there quietly looking at nothing or maybe the shadows around,
The second he turned, their eyes collided—and nothing else mattered. Not the council. Not Damien. Not the prophecy.
Just them.
Kyrell leaned in first, his eyes molten. Lucian didn't speak. Didn't need to.
Because the moment Kyrell touched him, it wasn't soft.
It was desperate.
Their mouths met in a collision that stole breaths and control. Lucian yanked Kyrell's hair back, bit down on the underside of his jaw hard enough to leave a mark, and Kyrell moaned—loud, unashamed.
"You think I'm letting you out of this now?" Lucian growled, voice cracking. "You belong to me."
"Then take me," Kyrell rasped. "Mark me."
Lucian pushed him against the wall, kissing him so hard Kyrell gasped, tongue sliding between lips already swollen from need. Their bodies were fire against fire.
Kyrell's legs wrapped around Lucian's waist as Lucian lifted him and in one swift move, pants down.
Then he slammed him back against stone, devouring every inch of him like he'd waited a century.
Hands wandered beneath torn clothes, fingernails dragging down skin, teeth grazing exposed throat. Lucian kissed down his chest, worshipping every scar, every shiver. Kyrell arched under him, moaning his name, begging in broken, breathless syllables.
"Lucian, please—"
"You don't beg unless you mean it."
"I do. I—Gods—I need you inside me." Kyrell's voice croaked,
Lucian growled low in his throat, a sound that didn't belong to a man, but to the creature who had been starved of this too long. He bit down at the base of Kyrell's neck—not to feed, but to mark.
A flash of ancient magic rippled between them.
The mark bloomed like fire under Kyrell's skin.
His back arched. His body shook.
Lucian kissed him through it, kissed him like he was trying to breathe him into his bones.
And when he finally slid inside him—slow, deep, raw—Kyrell cried out, fingers clawing at Lucian's back. It wasn't gentle. It wasn't meant to be. It was consummation.
Centuries of longing, loneliness, fury, and fate—burning in one thrust after another.
They didn't speak much—only gasps, curses, the frantic rhythm of hips slamming into hips. The room reeked of sweat and need. Lucian dragged Kyrell down onto the bed, twisted their bodies until they were skin to skin, forehead to forehead.
"You are mine," he panted.
"And you—" Kyrell moaned, legs trembling, voice wrecked— "You are everything."
Lucian gripped his hips tighter. "Cum with me." with one deep thrust,
Kyrell bit his lip until it bled—and broke.
They came undone at the same time.
Body to body. Soul to soul. The fire between them pulsed outward like a shockwave of blood and stars.
And for one beautiful, raw, devastating moment, nothing else existed.
Only the sound of their breathing.
The blood still pounding between their legs.
And the mark glowing bright beneath Kyrell's skin.
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