Luca's body was limp and trembling, and his mind was buzzing like something somewhere had exploded in there.
He could barely breathe, chest rising and falling in shallow waves as the last aftershocks of his release echoed through him. His thighs kept twitching while his toes curled as his fingers lay slack on the sheets, as faint tremors ran through them.
His lips parted to say something, anything, but no words came.
What could he even say about it when it felt like his worldviews were being reconstructed?
Meanwhile, Xavier hadn't moved.
The prince remained exactly where he'd been—still kneeling between Luca's parted legs, face nestled close, one hand gently resting on his hip.
And then, like a man savoring the final echoes of devotion, he dipped lower to kiss the inside of Luca's thigh.
Then again.
And again.
The kisses were soft, unhurried, almost reverent. Each one a silent promise, a whispered lullaby to skin still shivering with overstimulation.
