Chapter 412: Bolder

Luca’s body was trembling.

Not from fear.

Not from uncertainty.

But from heat.

From need.

His fingers were still tangled in Xavier’s hair, the other curled against his shoulder. But now, now his eyes had drifted down lower to where the undeniable shape of his husband’s arousal pressed against him, hard and unrelenting.

His breath hitched.

And his cheeks went scarlet.

He didn’t look away.

Not immediately.

His golden eyes widened just a little, lips parting as if his breath had forgotten how to come naturally. And then he looked up again, to Xavier, as if seeking confirmation for something his body already knew.

Because this time, after the prince had taught him about it, he knew what that was and what it usually meant.

It was a wordless conversation.

And Xavier, who had been doing so well with his restraint, felt it falter as he stared into those startled but resolute eyes.

Ah.

He knows.

Xavier’s jaw tensed. His gaze dropped to the lips he had just been kissing, then up again to the flushed face that had never looked more dangerously angelic.

But instead of leaning back in—like every instinct screamed at him to—he gently raised a hand and tucked one short, black lock of hair behind Luca’s ear. Then, with soft reverence, he pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Slow.

Tender.

Final.

Then he moved.

With deliberate care, Xavier shifted, adjusting their bodies as he prepared to set Luca down properly on the bed. The blankets had slipped during their heated exchange, and he began to draw them over Luca’s side again, like it was time to say goodnight.

Like he was going to leave.

But the moment his hand left Luca’s waist—

A tug.

A sharp pull at his coat lapel.

Xavier froze.

Luca had grabbed him.

Instinctively.

Not hard, but firm enough to make him pause.

The prince looked down, startled, only to find his little chipmunk panting softly beneath him, eyes flicking with wild sparks of something heady and new.

They were too far apart.

Too far.

Luca didn’t like that.

He tugged again, more urgently this time, his hand twisting in Xavier’s shirt like he was bracing himself.

“Luca?” Xavier asked, the word barely above a breath.

The little guide swallowed hard.

His gaze never left him.

“Are you…” He whispered, voice thin and shaky. “Are you going to leave again tonight?”

Xavier hesitated.

Only for a second.

“I should,” he said, though it sounded like a lie even to himself.

But then—

“You can’t.”

That soft plea.

A voice barely stronger than a whisper, but firm with want.

“I don’t want you to.”

Xavier’s pulse thudded so loudly it hurt.

Not from guilt.

But from the sheer weight of that small sentence.

He could walk away. He’d promised himself that he would.

But Luca was looking at him like he’d just put a knife in his chest. And still, he wasn’t pushing him away.

He was pulling him closer.

And Xavier was breaking.

One hand slowly returned to the bed, bracing himself near Luca’s shoulder as he stared down at him.

“Luca…”

There was a warning in his voice.

A tremor in his restraint.

But the golden-eyed guide didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand moved from Xavier’s lapel to the side of his face. He cupped his cheek gently—barely a touch—but it was enough to drag Xavier’s breath from his lungs.

“Stay.”

His voice was soft.

But his eyes were clear.

“Please…I want you to stay.”

Luca didn’t just want him to stay.

He needed him to.

And maybe it was how the little guide tugged at him or how he looked at him with such clear eyes but somehow it got Xavier thinking.

That if he left now, something in that precious face might collapse. Something tender and trusting would fold in on itself, and the prince couldn’t bear to think about it.

So he didn’t leave.

He lowered himself again, slowly.

Letting the tension coil tighter between them.

And kissed him once, slow and firm.

They ended up lying down, tangled in each other.

The blankets and coats were half-forgotten. Their bodies shifted, curled, and reconnected.

The kisses resumed. Softer now, but hungrier.

Luca moved under him and rolled them, and Xavier followed, only to find himself on his back.

His shirt had ridden up along his waist, baring stretches of pale skin that looked striking and vulnerable against the dark sheets. Luca stared. He couldn’t help it. His hand hovered just a breath above Xavier’s side—then slowly, carefully, made contact. His fingers brushed along the newly exposed skin, warm and trembling. And he watched.

Watched as his husband’s stomach tensed. Watched as his breath hitched. Watched as that sharp, composed face turned aching, lips parting slightly as if holding back a sound.

Luca’s curiosity flared.

His fire met Xavier’s cool skin with a soft hiss that felt like their bodies were waking up the air around them. He watched Xavier’s skin twitch, watched the way the coldness responded to his heat. And in that response, something flared in his chest.

Need.

Hunger.

He dragged his fingers again, slower this time. Just to feel it. Just to see Xavier’s reaction. Because something about it—about this—felt like discovery, like something sacred.

Lips moved against necks.

And against Xavier’s collarbone, Luca whispered: “Why do you keep pulling away?”

The question broke something in Xavier, who didn’t think Luca would notice. Because in all that, the prince would jerk to the side as if wanting to escape, and Luca, who was now focused entirely on him, definitely observed it.

Xavier’s hand tensed against the sheet, initially deliberating, but he realized Luca needed a better explanation. “Because I want everything with you. And I’m afraid of going too far.”

Luca paused, confused. “Why is that a problem?”

Xavier’s breath caught. He turned his head, as if hoping that shifting the angle would stop the flood that threatened to pour out of him. His eyes shut tightly, jaw clenched.

“Because if I let myself go,” he finally said, voice raw, “I’m not sure I’ll be strong enough to stop. And I’m terrified that you’re not ready—”

His throat worked around the next words, tight and strained. “And if I cross that line before you are or against your will…I won’t forgive myself.”

But Luca lay there, breath still ragged, heart pounding. A strange thought struck him—if Xavier had asked for his organs, he likely wouldn’t even say no. Not now. Not to him.

Because the prince, despite his position, and for all the power and strength he carried in his body, had never taken anything Luca hadn’t offered. Not once.

He could’ve. Easily. But he hadn’t because he’d always wait.

And that realization sent a shiver down Luca’s spine.

So if he wouldn’t just take, maybe he could just give him everything, whatever that even meant.

So, with trembling lips and a burning chest, he pressed a kiss to Xavier’s jaw and whispered, “Then if that’s your concern…then please just take whatever I give.”

Xavier froze.

His breath caught as Luca moved to straddle his hips, palms braced on either side of his chest.

The prince could only stare.

Because Luca was serious.

Innocent, but bold. Curious. Unafraid.

Luca’s hands explored once more, tentative fingers drifting from Xavier’s collarbone, tracing the lines of muscle and heat that pulsed underneath. He watched with fascination how the prince’s jaw tensed ever so slightly and how his breath grew deeper—not quite a gasp, but something close.

One touch.

Then another.

Fingers brushed lower, tracing over his chest with the sort of reverence one gave sacred things. The skin beneath his hand was cool to the touch—cool like the heart of winter—but where Luca’s fingertips dragged, his own warmth responded. The contact sizzled like an ember dropped into snow, a slow, smoldering burn that sparked a sharp jolt through both of them. The little explorer felt it vividly, and Xavier did too—his body kept tensing beneath him, subtle tremors betraying the effort it took to stay still. Every brush of his fingers left a trail of fire where skin had been chilled, like his own warmth was being claimed one inch at a time. It was electric. Elemental. And deeply addictive.

He could feel Xavier’s restraint trembling through every inhale. And it made him bolder.

Because Luca was curious.

He wanted to learn about Xavier this way, too, just as he remembered how the prince learned about him and his body the last time.

Not just in words. Not just in ideas. But in skin and sound.

He shifted, leaned closer, eyes locked onto the faint twitch of Xavier’s expression, and dragged his hand slowly toward the hem of his shirt.

A breath hitched.

The golden-eyed dragon felt it—and loved it.

And all the while, the Imperial Crown Prince gripped the sheets like a man being tortured.

Luca looked at him, golden eyes bright. “Do you like this?”

Xavier shuddered. “Yes.”

“Here?”

The tense husband nodded, jaw clenched.

Every press of his wife’s hand unraveled something.

All the preparation, all the years of self-control, and all those gruelling lessons on resisting torture.

All of it meant nothing here.

Then Luca leaned down and licked the hollow of Xavier’s throat.

His Adam’s apple.

Xavier’s breath punched out of his chest.

And his restraint snapped.

In a second, he flipped them, pinning Luca beneath him with one arm braced beside his head.

His voice was low.

Dark.

Breathless.

“Luca.”

He paused.

One last breath.

“If you want to stop me, you need to say it now.”

Golden eyes stared up at him, flushed, hazy.

Then Luca took Xavier’s hand.

Guided it lower.

To himself. To that place that Xavier always took care of.

Xavier stopped breathing.

And then—

“Don’t stop,” Luca whispered.

And heavens help him.

He could’ve come right then and there.

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