Lucien's eyelashes fluttered as sunlight spilled across his face.
He grimaced at the brightness, warmth seeping through his skin, though his body felt like it was being crushed under a ton of bricks.
'Damn, how long did we go at it?'
He tried to move, but something pinned him down. No, someone.
Opening his eyes, he found a heavy arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close against a body that looked sculpted by the gods themselves.
It was Edmund. Sleeping soundly.
Lucien stared at the alpha's arm: solid muscle, hard and unyielding. There was no point in struggling.
'This man… he sleeps like a damn log.'
Groaning, Lucien studied the Leopard's face, since that was all he could see anyway. His jaw was sharp and strong, as if carved by the most meticulous artist.
His nose had a noble hook to it, like a proud eagle's beak. Thick blond brows shadowed his closed lids, hiding those forest-green eyes
Lucien knew too well.
Edmund was absurdly handsome, gorgeous even. Built like a statue, the kind of man others would kneel for just to be noticed.
"God isn't fair," Lucien muttered irritably.
He reached up to brush away the faint wrinkle on Edmund's temple, hidden beneath the blond bangs that rarely fell out of place.
Edmund was always immaculate, his hair usually slicked neatly back. But seeing him like this was also adorable…
"What?! No! What the hell!"
Lucien grimaced, feeling disgusted by his own thoughts.
The alpha stirred, groaning softly as he tugged Lucien even closer, pressing their bodies flush together.
The Serpent caught the familiar scent of Earl Grey clinging to the man's chest, it was maddeningly comforting.
But what truly annoyed him was his thick cock pressing against his stomach. Edmund was hard.
Lucien only wore one of Edmund's oversized white shirts—based on the scent that stuck on it— and nothing more.
Yet now, that aroma came with a very solid problem. Edmund's cock pressed insistently against his stomach, and as he shifted in his sleep, it dragged along the shirt, brushing each button one by one.
The friction made Lucien groan under his breath.
It even brushed against his own shaft, grinding just enough to coax a shiver out of him.
"Hahhh… Lucien…"
Edmund groaned lowly, his voice husky from sleep as he buried his nose against Lucien's neck.
It was ridiculously sexy—Lucien couldn't deny that—but his body had had enough.
"Is fucking me to the point I forget what day it is not enough for you?!" he snapped, trying to shove the Leopard away.
But Edmund didn't budge. The man was a wall. So Lucien went for the nuclear option.
SLAP!
The sound cracked through the room as the omega smacked him hard across the cheek. Edmund jolted awake, blinking in shock.
But instead of getting angry, the Leopard laughed.
"I guess I've got myself a new alarm now," he chuckled, rubbing his cheek where Lucien had slapped him.
He smiled, soft and almost annoyingly gentle. "Good morning, Lucien."
"Shut up. Let go of me already."
Lucien frowned, finally managing to shove him off before sitting up on the bed, arms crossed.
Honestly, every time he looked at Edmund, irritation flared up inside him like a habit.
It was the same with Diablo too, though that one went beyond irritation, he hated that devil. Strange, how he could enjoy sex with both of them but despise their company afterward.
"Wow, grumpy even in the morning, huh?" the Leopard sighed, running his fingers through his tousled blond hair.
Lucien didn't bother replying. He just pushed the white blanket aside and tried to stand, but the moment he got up, his knees gave out, and he slumped straight onto the floor.
Edmund moved immediately, scooping him up without a word as if he weighed nothing.
"Tch, you don't have to. I'd rather crawl to the bathroom myself," Lucien muttered sarcastically.
The alpha ignored him, carrying him to the bathroom and setting him gently on the toilet seat.
"Wait here. I'll get the bath ready."
Lucien watched him twist the warm-water knob, the tub slowly filling up with steam and rippling reflections.
Neither of them said anything. Lucien actively avoided looking at Edmund—especially since the man was completely naked—and damn, that body could make a saint curse.
He could feel Edmund's gaze on him, burning down his back, but he refused to turn around.
When the water was ready, Edmund asked casually, "Do you want a bubble bath?"
Lucien snapped his head toward him, eyes wide. "Do I look twelve to you?!"
"Oh? Finally looking at me," Edmund teased with a smirk, and that alone was enough to make Lucien's blood boil.
He grumbled under his breath, pulling off the oversized white shirt and using the sink beside him to push himself upright.
Edmund stepped forward to help, but Lucien immediately shot him a warning glare and waved him off.
"Don't. I said I can handle it. Now get out, I want to bathe."
The Leopard simply looked at him for a moment, expression unreadable.
Then, without a single word, he poured liquid soap into the bath, walked up to him, and—before Lucien could react—lifted him over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
"Put me down, you bastard!"
Lucien shouted, squirming and kicking, but Edmund didn't even flinch.
A moment later, both of them were submerged in the warm bathwater, Lucien now sitting astride Edmund's lap.
Steam curled around them, turning the air heavy and intimate.
The alpha's voice rumbled softly against Lucien's back. "Do you hate me… for kidnapping you?"
Lucien turned his head, making sure he'd heard that ridiculous question right and oh boy, the Leopard wasn't joking.
"Do you think a fish likes being pulled out of the water just to die? How could you ask something so foolish when you already know the answer?"
His tone was sharp, but beneath that edge lay something heavier.
He was lying, of course. Lucien was chill here, this was supposed to be a nice vacation. He wanted the sex, not this gentleman act, not this sweet, lingering aftercare that Edmund seemed so fond of.
He disliked Edmund.
Not because of his arrogance or his teasing, but because of that day, the day he paid the price of trust.
The day he realized that even those closest to him would turn away once he became weak, once he stopped being useful.
The memory was still carved into him like a blade, and even now, just remembering it made his chest tighten painfully.