CHAPTER 49: EVERY INCH OF YOU

[Still Night—Rynthall Estate, Behind Closed Doors]

The room was drenched in moonlight and sweat.

Lucien couldn’t breathe.

Didn’t want to breathe.

Not when Silas wouldn’t stop kissing him.

Not when every brush of lips felt like a promise burned into skin.

"Your lips..." Silas murmured, voice thick and velvet-dark, as he dragged his tongue over Lucien’s mouth, slow and greedy. "Gods, they taste so sweet."

Lucien flushed, breath catching as his head tilted away with instinctive shyness. "It’s... it’s because I ate cake," he mumbled, eyes fluttering closed.

But Silas wasn’t done.

Not even close.

"Then let me taste more," he growled.

And before Lucien could protest—before he could even think—Silas was already kissing him again. Harder. Deeper. His tongue swept past Lucien’s lips like he owned the right, like the sweetness there belonged to him now.

Lucien whimpered into it, fists curling against Silas’s shoulders.

And then—heat. A rush of something heady. Thick, blue. Pheromones.

Silas’s pheromones were deep ocean—dark, intoxicating, and endless. Lucien’s body shivered—reacted—before he could stop it. That scent—rich and magnetic—flooded the air like a storm surge. It wrapped around him, dragged through his lungs, and curled in his spine. Like crushed spices, storm-drenched cedar, and something deeper... something wild and ancient. It made his head swim. Made his skin tingle. Made his thighs clench without permission.

"S-Silas... wh-what are you—ah—doing..."

Silas’s voice was a growl against his mouth. "Can’t help it. You make me lose control."

Their kiss turned messy—wet, gasping, breathless. Tongues clashed. Teeth grazed. Lucien moaned, high and desperate, as Silas’s hand slipped beneath the sheets to explore bare, sensitive skin.

And then—Silas’s lips trailed lower.

Down his chin.

His jaw.

And to his neck.

He licked first. Slow. Broad.

Then sucked—hard.

Lucien cried out, his back arching into the contact. "Nngh—p-please—go slow, Silas—don’t... don’t suck my soul out!"

Silas only laughed softly, his mouth never leaving skin. "But it’s so addicting," he murmured, hot breath dragging over Lucien’s pulse. "Every sound you make—every shiver—I want to taste it all."

He licked again—right behind Lucien’s ear—tongue dragging slowly along the sensitive skin, followed by the faintest scrape of teeth. Lucien gasped, hips twitching, breath catching in a tremble that rattled through his bones.

His fingers dove into Silas’s long, sweat-damp hair, tugging weakly—desperately—but instead of stopping, Silas groaned low and deep, the sound vibrating against Lucien’s neck like thunder wrapped in silk.

"You’re driving me insane," Silas whispered, his voice cracked and raw. "I want to mark every inch of you... inside and out."

He didn’t wait.

Couldn’t.

His hands moved on their own—urgent, shaking with hunger. Fingers found the buttons of Lucien’s shirt and ripped through them like they were paper, like the fabric had dared to keep him from what he craved.

Lucien yelped softly as his shirt was flung aside—tossed like sin itself into the dark, forgotten corners of the room.

And then—

Silas stared.

His breath caught. Completely.

Lucien lay half-naked beneath him—cheeks flushed, hair wild, lips kiss-swollen. His chest rose and fell too quickly, and his pale skin glowed silver under the moonlight, glistening with sweat and want.

But what made Silas still—what stole the last of his composure—was the curve of Lucien’s belly.

Swollen.

Round.

Carrying their child.

Silas’s eyes darkened—something molten, reverent, utterly ruined behind them.

His hand, trembling now, reached out and gently—so gently—touched Lucien’s belly. Palm wide, fingers spread, like he needed to feel the life they created, claim it, and protect it with everything in him.

"You..." he breathed, voice nothing but wind and wonder, "...are everything."

Lucien turned his face away, too hot, too overwhelmed. His cheeks burned, and his chest fluttered. He couldn’t meet Silas’s gaze—couldn’t handle the way he looked at him like he was something sacred.

Silas leaned down, pressing a kiss just below his navel—slow, worshipful.

Then another one, higher.

And another.

His lips moved upward—slow, deliberate, like each kiss carved a vow into Lucien’s skin. But just as he reached the curve of Lucien’s chest—just before his mouth could close over one flushed, sensitive pink nipple—Silas paused.

Stopped.

And looked up at him.

Really looked.

Lucien’s breath hitched.

He hovered there, lips brushing skin as he whispered, "Can I have you again, all of you, my love? Every breath. Every sound. Every inch of this divine, maddening body?"

Lucien’s breath hitched—beautifully wrecked—but he still wouldn’t look at him. Still too shy, too ruined.

Silas clicked his tongue softly, lifting his head. One hand cupped Lucien’s jaw, thumb brushing the edge of his lip. Firm, but tender. Commanding.

"Look at me," he whispered.

Lucien did.

Barely.

Shining eyes. Bite-bruised lips. Entire body thrumming. Silas tilted his face up—just slightly, just enough—and murmured with a smirk that burned:

"Say it quickly, my heart. I have no patience left to be gentle."

Lucien’s breath stuttered. Then broke. And in a voice soft, trembling, and soaked in desire, he whispered—

"...I’m already yours. Just... just make sure our Wobblebean doesn’t get hurt."

Silas stilled.

That—that was what he wanted to hear.

A switch inside him snapped.

And in the very next heartbeat—he moved like a man undone.

Like an animal in heat.

Hands quick, almost trembling, he reached for the waistband of Lucien’s pants and pulled them down—slow enough to savor the way Lucien squirmed, fast enough to betray just how close to the edge he was.

The last barrier between them hit the floor with a soft thud.

Lucien lay bare now—glowing with heat and flushed pink from chest to thighs, his legs shifting, embarrassed, aroused, exposed, beautiful.

And Silas—

Silas groaned. Low. Hungry. Like he was seeing something forbidden and holy all at once.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered.

And he didn’t wait anymore.

He dipped his head and latched onto Lucien’s nipple—warm lips closing around the soft, flushed peak, tongue circling once before sucking hard.

Lucien gasped—loudly—his spine arching off the bed. "A-Ah—S-Silas—!"

It was too much.

Too sharp.

Too good.

The sound he made was high and breathless—half-moan, half-whimper—his fingers tangling in Silas’s hair as his thighs tried and failed to stay still.

Silas moaned into his chest, deep and vibrating, making Lucien shiver from the inside out.

"Y-You’re not being gentle," Lucien panted, cheeks blazing. "You said—gods—you said you’d be gentle—"

"I lied," Silas growled against his skin, biting gently before soothing it with his tongue. "You drive the honesty out of me."

And as he suckled, lips glossy, tongue relentless, his hand moved lower—trailing down the curve of Lucien’s waist, over the swell of his belly, until his fingers hovered just above his length.

And as he suckled—lips glossy, tongue relentless—Silas’s hand moved lower, fingers grazing along the curve of Lucien’s waist... then over the firm, swollen arc of his belly.

He paused there for the briefest second, hand splayed protectively.

Then he slipped lower.

Lucien’s thighs were still pressed together—nervous, trembling.

Silas smirked against his chest, then slowly, deliberately slid his thigh between Lucien’s, his mouth still hot and open around the now reddened peak of his nipple.

He growled—low and coaxing.

"Spread your legs," he whispered, his voice a wicked purr against skin. "Let me see everything, my love."

Lucien’s breath caught.

His entire face flushed, a deep, shame-colored pink blooming from cheek to ear. He hesitated, lips parted—panting—but his hips twitched against Silas’s thigh.

Slowly.

Shyly.

He opened for him.

Legs trembling as they parted—wide, willing, vulnerable.

Silas pulled back just enough to look down. And gods, the sound he made—a groan torn from the gut—was practically feral.

He stared at Lucien’s cock.

Warm.

Trembling.

Dark at the tip and already leaking, twitching with need, nestled between flushed thighs that quivered from restraint.

Lucien whimpered—high, airy, embarrassed.

"S-Silas... don’t—don’t stare like that—" he choked, voice tight with arousal.

Silas looked up at him, eyes blown wide with hunger.

His voice dropped to a growl.

"You’re perfect. Do you even know what you look like right now? Spread out for me... dripping... and already making those sounds—gods—Lucien."

He leaned in again—pressing a kiss just above Lucien’s navel, then trailing lower. Lower. Every inch downward left a slick heat behind—his tongue, his breath, his intent.

Lucien’s moans turned softer now—wet, almost hiccuping.

"A-Ah—hnng—Silas—please, please—don’t tease—!"

But Silas didn’t listen.

Or maybe he did.

Because he was far too busy devouring his love—tongue gliding down the soft plane of Lucien’s belly, lips dragging slow, open-mouthed kisses lower and lower. He worshipped him in silence, letting each breathless whimper guide his mouth like prayer.

Then, with a fluid motion, Silas sat up.

He reached for Lucien’s right leg—lifted it, spread it gently—and pressed a kiss to the inside of his trembling thigh. The skin was fever-warm, flushed, impossibly soft.

Lucien gasped—eyes dazed, mouth parted, completely undone.

Silas didn’t stop.

He nipped lightly at the sensitive flesh, then licked slow and deliberate, leaving a trail of slick heat near the base of Lucien’s cock. His voice was a growl and a vow all at once as he muttered against skin:

"I’m going to loosen you up, my love..."

Lucien’s back arched instinctively, toes curling. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with lust and affection—staring down at the man between his thighs.

He was trembling. Flushed from his lips to his chest to the curve of his swollen belly.

"G-Go slow," he whispered, breath catching. "Please, Silas... go slow."

Silas looked up—smirked—and for a heartbeat, the hunger in his gaze softened into something deeper. Something dangerous in how tender it was.

"Don’t worry," he murmured, fingers stroking down Lucien’s thigh as he leaned closer.

"I’ll go slow..."

His lips brushed the soft skin of Lucien’s inner thigh again, trailing closer, breathing him in.

"...and I’ll make sure..."

Another kiss. A flick of tongue.

"...you remember every second of our first night."

Lucien’s breath hitched.

The night was only just beginning.