Morning light cut across Lucien's study in long gold bars. The manor was already awake beyond the door, but inside it was only the two of them—Elian perched on the edge of the desk, Lucien standing between his knees, mouths meeting as if they had all the time in the world.
"Good morning," Lucien murmured against Elian's lips.
Elian smiled into the kiss. "Good morning."
Lucien's hands found his waist and pulled. Elian came down easily, settling across Lucien's lap in the high-backed chair. The first roll of his hips was almost accidental. The second was not. Lucien groaned low in his throat as Elian's weight pressed down on the thick, already-hard line of him through silk and wool.
They kissed deeper. Slow. Wet. Elian's fingers slid into Lucien's hair while his hips kept moving—small, grinding circles that made both of them breathe harder. The chair creaked. Lucien's hands tightened on Elian's ass, guiding him, letting him feel every inch he was rubbing against.
