Lucien didn't seem to notice the man's darkening tone at all. Tilting his head to the side, he thought for a second before saying,

"Dice? Poker? Honestly, anything works."

Leon's jaw tightened. A cold scoff escaped him as he stared down at the oblivious boy. "I didn't realize you were such a seasoned gambler," he said, his voice dropping into that dangerous, low register that usually meant someone was about to get knocked out.

Lucien blinked, his hazel eyes wide and unfairly innocent under the flickering bar lights. "Are you okay? You seem... grumpy."

"I'm fine," Leon lied, the word coming out like a block of ice. He reached for his glass, downed a significant amount of whiskey in one go, and felt the burn match the irritation in his chest.

He hated this. He hated the way everyone in the bar was staring at Lucien's new look—the shimmering black V-neck that showed off way too much pale collarbone and the denim shorts that made his legs look like they went on forever. Most of all, he hated that Lucien was currently leaning over the railing of the VIP booth, fascinated by a blue-haired boxer named Beddie in the ring below.

"Can we invite him up to play?" Lucien asked, still watching the ring.

"No," Leon snapped, then caught himself. He softened his tone, though his grip on the glass didn't loosen. "He's busy. Sit down, Lucien. You haven't eaten anything yet."

Joey, sensing the atmospheric pressure in the booth was reaching critical levels, quickly slid a wheel-of-fortune game onto the table. "Hey! Let's play 'Spin the Wheel' instead! Lucien, you go first!"

Lucien perked up immediately. "What if it lands on a drink? I'm a lightweight."

Leon's gaze flickered to Lucien's soft mouth. "I'll drink for you," he said, his voice losing its edge for a split second.

As if the universe was conspiring with Leon, the wheel landed on 'Drink' four times in a row. Leon didn't even flinch, knocking back the whiskey shots with a practiced ease that made Lucien stare in awe.

"Are you sure you aren't drunk?" Lucien whispered, leaning in close. His scent—that mix of expensive soap and something sweet—hit Leon like a physical blow.

"I'm fine," Leon murmured, his eyes tracking the way Lucien's lips moved. "I don't get drunk."

Then, it was Leon's turn to spin. The needle clicked-clicked-clicked and stopped on a simple, relatively harmless option:

Give him a hug.

The table went silent. The guys from the boxing club exchanged terrified looks—Leon Bolton didn't do public displays of affection. But Leon just sat back, his steel-gray eyes fixed on Lucien.

"Lucien," Leon said, his voice smooth. "Get over here."

Lucien hesitated, feeling the weight of a dozen pairs of eyes on him. "It's just a hug, right? Everyone is watching..."

Leon didn't wait for him to decide. In one fluid, powerful motion, he reached out, hooked an arm around Lucien's waist, and hoisted him into the air. Before Lucien could even gasp, he was settled firmly on Leon's lap, facing the table.

Leon's massive arms wrapped around him like iron bands, his chin resting comfortably on top of Lucien's black curls. To anyone else, Leon looked like a possessive king guarding his hoard. To Lucien, it felt like being trapped by a very warm, very dangerous mountain.

"Be good," Leon whispered against his ear.

Lucien stopped struggling, his face turning a vivid shade of pink. He looked like a hand-sized doll tucked against Leon's massive frame.

Just then, Beddie—the blue-haired boxer Lucien had been praising—walked up to the booth to greet Leon. "Hey, Leon! Great to see you here, man."

Lucien, remembering the 'Cold Treatment Plan' his roommate Jamie had helped him craft earlier that day, decided this was the perfect time to be friendly to someone else. He wiggled out of Leon's grip just enough to wave enthusiastically. "Hi! I'm Lucien! You were amazing in the ring!"

Beddie blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden burst of sunshine from Leon Bolton's lap. "Oh, uh, thanks."

Leon's arm tightened around Lucien's waist so fast it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He looked up at Beddie with a stare that could have withered a cactus.

"We were just leaving," Leon said, his voice dropping to a sub-zero temperature.

"But the dance floor is just starting!" Joey protested.

Leon ignored him, standing up while still holding Lucien like he weighed absolutely nothing. He carried him out of the booth and straight into the crowd.

The dance floor was a chaotic mess of sweaty bodies and loud music. Leon didn't let go of Lucien's hand for a second, pulling him close every time someone even looked in their direction.

"You're being weird," Lucien shouted over the music. "Are you jealous?"

Leon stopped moving. He pulled Lucien into a corner, shielding him from the crowd with his body. "You were hitting on a boxer in front of me," Leon growled.

"I was being polite!" Lucien countered, though his heart was hammering against his ribs.

Leon stared at him for a long time, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhaled, the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. "Let's go. I'm taking you home."

The car ride back to the dorms was quiet. Lucien curled up against the window, pretending to sleep, while Leon drove with a focused intensity. When they pulled up to the curb, Leon didn't move. He leaned over, his face inches from Lucien's.

Lucien's eyes snapped open. "W-what are you doing?"

Leon's gaze was fixed on Lucien's ear. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against Lucien's skin. For a heartbeat, Lucien thought he was finally going to kiss him.

Instead, Leon pulled back and said calmly, "There was a mosquito. I was checking if it bit you."

"A mosquito? In the middle of the city? In this weather?" Lucien squeaked, his brain short-circuiting.

"They're persistent," Leon said, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "By the way, what are we eating tomorrow? I'm making spicy crayfish."

Lucien, who would sell his soul for spicy crayfish, completely forgot to be angry. "Really? Extra spicy?"

"Of course," Leon said. "See you tomorrow, baby."

Lucien scrambled out of the car, his face on fire. He made it all the way to his room before collapsing onto his bed. Jamie, his roommate, looked up from his phone.

"So? How did the 'Jealousy Plan' go?" Jamie—or 'Honey' as Lucien often called him—asked with a predatory grin.

Lucien groaned into his pillow. "He's impossible. He basically told me he was a violent brute who gets jealous easily, and then he offered me crayfish."

Jamie cackled. "Classic. So, is he 'The King' or just a guy with a functional problem?"

Lucien lifted his head, his hazel eyes wide and confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Jamie said, leaning in. "Is he actually going to close the deal, or do I need to find you a male health clinic for him?"

Lucien threw a stuffed sheep at him. "He's perfectly fine! He just... really gentleman!"