Morning light filtered weakly through the heavy curtains, soft and grey after the storm. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the manor quiet except for the distant sounds of servants beginning their day.
Elian woke first.
For a moment he did not move. Lucien's arm was still wrapped firmly around his waist, heavy and possessive even in sleep. Their legs remained tangled, Lucien's bare chest pressed against his back, the steady rhythm of the Duke's breathing warm against the back of his neck. The thin undershirt Elian had kept on did little to dull the heat of that contact.
His heart gave a traitorous flutter.
Carefully, Elian shifted. Lucien murmured something unintelligible and tightened his hold for a second before his grip loosened again. Elian waited, barely breathing, until the arm around him went slack once more.
Slowly, inch by inch, he began to ease himself free.
