The crimson light of the bedroom cast long, flickering shadows against the walls, bathing the room in a deep, wine-colored glow. Ken felt the heat of Lucien's palm through the silk of his robe, a steady, grounding weight. When the question left Lucien's lips—"May I?" —Ken's heart skipped a beat, a soft gasp escaping him.
He was genuinely surprised. For all of Lucien's intensity and the way he seemed to command the very air around them, he was always meticulously careful with Ken. To see this powerful, private man hovering there, waiting for permission, sent a strange thrill through Ken's chest.
