Lucien's grip shifted from Nikolai's hair to his shoulders, holding on like a lifeline, because if Nikolai let go, he was done for. His knees buckled hard, and sure enough—with those hands having finally relented, Lucien dropped.
Straight to his knees.
The realization hit him only half a breath later.
He was kneeling between Nikolai's legs, shirt open, pants pushed down, every inch of him exposed and vulnerable. His cock still growing hard, throbbing even after release.
His hands…
Fuck, his hands had planted themselves firmly on Nikolai's thighs like anchors. If he was in his right mind, he'd have shoved away, pulled himself together. But his mind was mush, his body humming with aftershocks, the air charged and heavy with pheromones.
Nikolai's cock felt painful. The view of Lucien collapsing in front of him, kneeling in front of him was fantastic but it only made it worse for him. Those hands that gripped his hair were now planted on his thighs, the warmth from the palms traveling straight towards his groin into the base of his cock.
Lucien looked up through his hair, lips curling in a scoff that sounded more like a groan. Nikolai was hard. The bulge in his pants had Lucien swallowing for some reason. Because fuck... the smell was intense. To see a man turned on and hard for him, should have turned him off and yet —
And Gods above, even the smallest of things from this man caused a reaction from Nikolai's body, from the haggard spent way Lucien looked, chest exposed and cheeks flushed, to the way they breathed and silently fussed over Nikolai's pent up condition. His eyes followed Lucien's line of sight, the location directed at the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. Nothing was said, as if he was letting the silence do the talking, beckoning Lucien to subconsciously act on their instincts.
And then—Lucien's hand moved.
Tentative at first, brushing over the straining bulge in Nikolai's pants. A cautious drag, fingers rubbing along the hardness, indirect but intimate.
Lucien's breath hitched, the oddity of it crashing over him. Touching another man like this. Wanting to.
He was leaning forward, the kitchen light making his chest and neck glisten with sweat, like a sin waiting to happen. His hand kept moving, stroking slowly as he shifted closer, heat radiating from every pore. All it took was the subtle movement of Lucien's hand and Nikolai could feel the corners of his mouth twitching once more. This was it…he knew he was slowly chipping away at the barrier Lucien placed.
"Fu—fuck…"
Nikolai couldn't keep the swear silent when his dick was met with pressure and strokes made by Lucien's hand, his head thrown back against the chair before he looked back down. Nikolai's grey hues met the amethyst smoke of Lucien's.
"...How are you going to fix this, huh?" Lucien murmured, voice low, husky, laced with something dangerous. His eyes locked onto Nikolai's, unwavering, even as his hand fumbled to undo a button. His tongue swept across his lips, a subconscious admission of his own hunger.
The way Nikolai reacted to his touch, the way he smirked—throwing his head back, his perfectly sculpted chest straining under that definitely custom-made shirt. It was the first time Lucien had ever seen him in a suit, and now, brain fogged with scent and sight, he realized the view was utterly captivating. He looked… good. Too damn good. Fuck.
And then—he froze.
Lucien pulled his hand back like it burned. Reality cracked through the haze of lust.
Nikolai was still struggling to process the question that was tossed at him, eyebrows furrowing at the obvious answer that the both of them knew for it, Nikolai was about to retort a half-assed reply until he felt the pressure below vanish, settling back onto his thighs. This fucking tease…Nikolai met his own medicine.
Fuck.
Lucien inwardly cursed, oblivious to Nikolai's hunger and frustration.
He had Claire. He couldn't—he couldn't cross that line. Not fully. His cock throbbed in protest, his body screaming at him to keep going, but he forced his hands to clutch Nikolai's thighs instead, as if anchoring himself against his own weakness.
"I… I need a cold shower," Lucien growled, half to himself, half to Nikolai. He pushed, tried to stand, his body trembling.
"I can—fuck—I can get you to another one…"
But his eyes—his traitorous eyes—lingered on Nikolai's lower half for far too long, hunger darkening his gaze. He didn't even know what he wanted! He looked lost, torn in half. He had just been given the best release of his life, and yet he was still hard, still craving, still wanting more.
Lucien's lips parted, words spilling out jagged, raw, as his hand drifted dangerously close to his own shaft again as if possessed by inexplicable lust. His gaze snapped between Nikolai's tented pants and his smug, wrecked face.
Nikolai wanted to roll his eyes. The idea of just grabbing his hair and pushing those soft lips on his cock tempted him as he heard the other male opt to take a shower as a solution to their problems. Nikolai scoffed and ended up rolling his eyes in disbelief. What a fucking killjoy.
"You really think that a cold shower will solve this issue of ours? Trust me, it doesn't do shit."
An unsatisfied groan bubbled in his throat, thinking that Lucien's high had worn off merely from releasing their load earlier but the look on the other's face told him otherwise. The smoldering tint laced with want and lust told him that he still had Lucien in his grasp, the string was loose but still intact. He needed to tighten the line. But how? This man seemed to regret yet yearn for this. What was holding him back?
Lucien pressed his lips tight, refusing to look at Nikolai. His voice was rasped, heavy.
"Well… let me test it out."
Pulling away wasn't as easy as Lucien had told himself it would be. He couldn't admit it, but it was taking everything in him not to go back and just… fuck, figure out how to deal with this fire in his veins.
Call Claire? No.
She was busy and she hated when he disturbed her during her work. And even if she was here… sex with Claire had always been peculiar.
Truth was, most of the time he'd been left unsatisfied. But this—
With Nikolai—It felt different.
Raw.
Unavoidable.
And secretly? Lucien enjoyed it.
Enjoyed that this was about him.
Because Nikolai, ruthless bastard or not, seemed genuinely into him. Either it was an act, or Nikolai really was this generous a partner. But Lucien wasn't going to find out.
He couldn't.
This was wrong. Claire would still understand if he explained how things got to this point—wouldn't she?
"You know we can't… we shouldn't… do this," he rasped, voice heavy, lips bitten raw. His whole body trembled, torn between desire and denial. "It's… all… fuck…"
Lucien didn't know how long he could control himself.
His every nerve was buzzing, his breathing harsh. He flicked his gaze to Nikolai, groaning, then rolled his eyes as if this was easy for him to resist.
It wasn't.
He wanted Nikolai—wanted to drown in his scent. But fuck… he couldn't think with his dick.
He was high off him, and he needed Nikolai to just listen before he lost control.
Nikolai saw the struggle in those beautiful eyes and his hands moved forward, cupping the other Lucien's face.
"Shhh…Shhh…"
And just like that, Nikolai had dragged him back into the honey trap.
Lucien hadn't even managed to stand before he was on his knees again, breath shallow, lips parted, cheeks flushed. His face was cupped—rough hands, but tender—and Lucien's breath hitched.
He didn't even try to pull away.
He couldn't.
Nikolai saw the silent surrender and reveled in it. But didn't stop.
He cooed, eyes half-lidded, temporarily pushing his urges to the backseat. "I know this is difficult…"
Lucien stared, transfixed.
How much did this man know about him? Because it felt like he was falling again, drowning in that trance.
And Nikolai didn't.
There was nothing he knew about the other man other than their name and phone number. Their file of information laid untouched on his desk, after all.
"It's just us here…Look at me, Lucien…"
A press of their foreheads together so that their eyes locked on each other.
Lucien's vision misted, his chest shuddered with each sharp breath.
Foreheads touched.
His gaze fell to Nikolai's swollen lips. Fuck… he wanted to kiss him, to silence that unruly mouth that drove him insane. He couldn't stop flickering between those lips and those steel-grey eyes.
Sexy, dangerous eyes that stripped him bare
"...if you need someone to blame, blame me. Use me. Curse me, belittle me, beat me…whatever fucking reason for you to understand that what we're doing...right now…"
God, Lucien's lips were so close to his…just a few more inches.
"...is for you to get over those damn pills."
This was bullshit. Lucien knew.
But the words Nikolai spoke—the devotion in them—slid into his chest like poison-sweet wine.