“Show me,“
she breathes, the words slipping between them like smoke, curling into the charged air.
The command—soft yet electric—sinks into his skin, threading through his veins, anchoring itself deep in the marrow of his bones.
Show me.
It lingers, reverberating in the silence, wrapping around him like a whispered incantation, binding him to this moment, to her.
Lucian’s pulse pounds, a slow, aching thrum that vibrates through his entire body. Anticipation tightens around his ribs, sharp and relentless, until every nerve in him is strung taut. And yet, despite the fire curling in his gut, he remains still, watching her—watching the way she kneels before him, poised between the space of his parted thighs, her gaze locked onto him with something molten in those dark, heavy eyes.
She looks at him as though he holds the constellations in his hands. As though she would let herself be reduced to embers if it meant being consumed by him.
And God, if he could, he would give her everything. Anything. He would offer himself completely, surrender to her entirely—just for the chance to hear her again. To hear the soft, wrecked sounds she made before, to watch her come apart under his touch, unravel on his tongue, lost in pleasure before either of them had even shed the last of their clothes.
And now, with her whisper lingering in the air, with that look in her eyes, he knows—he doesn’t need to be told twice.
The dim lighting casts golden shadows across her skin, glinting against the sheen of her kiss-bruised lips—the same lips that were wrapped around him just moments ago, that he barely had the willpower to pull away from. If there was one thing he wanted more than the molten heat of her mouth on his cock, it was the taste of her lips against his own.
The sheer luck of it all still hasn’t settled in. He wasn’t looking for this. He never expected this. But now, here she is, in her apartment, on her knees, begging him to show her.
And there’s no universe in which he could deny her.
He hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, lifts his hips, and strips himself bare.
Her gaze drops, dark with hunger, lingering as if memorizing every inch of him. Slowly, she drags her teeth over her lower lip, fingers trailing over the inside of his thighs, pressing lightly, parting them further before leaning in.
Close.
So close that Lucian can feel the warm, tantalizing brush of her breath ghosting over his aching length, sending a shiver down his spine.
She smirks—wicked, teasing, entirely in control—before her tongue flicks out, a slow, deliberate stroke that catches the bead of wetness at his tip. She tastes him, savoring her movements unhurried, calculated, designed to unravel him one teasing flick at a time.
“Fuck,” he exhales, head tipping back, his throat pulling taut as a wrecked sound catches in his chest. He never loses control like this—never—but she makes it so damn easy.
A pleased hum vibrates against him, and she shifts, cradling his weight in one hand while the other slips between his thighs. The first slow pump of her fingers, slick and warm, has his stomach tightening, and then—
Then she parts her lips and lets the head of his cock drag over them, teasing, taunting, before finally—finally—she takes him into her mouth.
The heat of it, the wet, silken press of her tongue as she traces the sensitive ridge beneath—
Lucian grits his teeth, breath shuddering, fingers twitching at his sides. His control is slipping, a thin, fraying tether threatening to snap.
She sinks lower, inch by agonizing inch, so unbearably slow that he swears he might lose his mind. But it’s intoxicating—watching her, feeling the way her mouth stretches around him, the soft, obscene noises echoing between them.
“Yeah, baby,” he rasps, voice low, rough. “Just like that. So fucking good.”
A wicked glint flickers in her eyes as she pulls back, a trail of slickness connecting her lips to him before she spits, spreading the wetness with her palm, stroking him in slow, torturous drags.
And then she takes him again—deeper this time—her lips stretching around him as her throat constricts in a slow, exquisite squeeze. The sensation is a wildfire racing through his veins, searing him from the inside out. A ragged, helpless sound rips from his throat, raw and unrestrained, as his fingers sink into her hair, tangling in the soft strands.
He guides her, though it’s barely more than instinct, a silent plea rather than control—because fuck, he’s already losing himself. Lost to the molten heat of her mouth, the silken drag of her tongue, the way she swallows around him like she was made for this. Like she wants to ruin him.
And God help him, he’s already halfway there.
He watches, mesmerized, as she moves, the rhythmic pull of her lips, the deliberate pressure of her tongue—
“Fuck,” he breathes, struggling to hold himself together, to keep from unraveling completely.
Because if she keeps going like this, if she keeps looking at him like that, like she enjoys wrecking him, savoring every reaction she pulls from him—
Then he’s not going to last much longer.
And the thought of it—of losing himself in her, of giving in—makes him even hungrier for her.
Her name falls from his lips, rough and broken, as he pulls her up—urgent, desperate—claiming her mouth in a fevered kiss. It’s messy, all heat and need, the taste of him still lingering on her tongue as he lifts her, guiding her into his lap.
She gasps as he sinks into her, their bodies aligning with a slow, devastating inevitability. His hands are everywhere—gripping her hips, mapping the delicate curve of her spine, pulling her closer, deeper. She trembles in his arms, nails digging into his shoulders as he moves beneath her, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through them both.
Lucian’s restraint shatters. The rhythm between them builds, a slow, burning crescendo that swells until he can’t hold it back any longer. His fingers tighten at her waist, a strangled groan escaping as he finally gives in, burying himself completely, surrendering to the fire consuming him.
For a moment, they are nothing but sensation—breathless and undone, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure. She collapses against him, skin damp and glowing in the dim light, her heartbeat a frantic echo against his own. And as he holds her close, pressing soft, reverent kisses to the curve of her shoulder, Lucian realizes—this, whatever this is—it’s only the beginning.
