Swearing was one thing, but faced with this soft little burden clinging to him like a limpet, Dominic Vance found himself completely unable to push Lucien away roughly.
He took a deep breath, trying to regulate his increasingly ragged breathing. A large hand reached out carefully, intending to pry off each of the small fingers that Lucien had wrapped tightly around Dominic's waist.
But the moment he moved, the person in his arms immediately frowned. Lucien let out a soft whine of discomfort from the back of his throat. Driven by instinct, the young man's small head rubbed harder against the firm chest, and those thin arms tightened their grip around Dominic's narrow waist.
To someone who was holding back until it physically ached like Dominic, this unintentional, soft friction was nothing short of a lingering torture. The rigidness beneath his underwear throbbed violently, swelling even larger, veins bulging to the point of almost tearing through the fragile fabric.
