Lucien walked out of the steam, his skin humming.

The ghost of Leon's calloused palms still lingered on his heels, a low-frequency vibration that made his knees wobble.

Leon, had already transitioned back into his "gentle protector" role, holding a mug of warm milk and honey.

"Drink up, baby," Leon murmured, his thumb catching a stray droplet on Lucien's lip.

Lucien glared at the white liquid like it was a trap.

"If I drink this, I'm waking up at three AM to pee," he snapped.

Leon leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of Lucien's ear.

"I'll carry you. I'll hold you. I'll even whistle for you."

Lucien's face went nuclear, a vivid, indicting shade of red.

"I'm not your toy, Leon!" he hissed, his voice cracking.

He snatched the mug, downed it in three gulps, and slammed the guest room door until the frame rattled.

In the study, the warm mask fell away.

Leon sat in the shadows, his steel-gray eyes cold as he dialed a number.

"Find out who Chen Fang is," he commanded. "Now."

Lucien flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

His phone buzzed, a sharp, digital intrusion.

I'm Chen Fang. Pay me twenty grand to keep your past a secret. Bank info attached.

Lucien stared at the screen for a long beat.

A dry, incredulous laugh bubbled up in his throat.

"Twenty grand? I can barely afford high-quality charcoal pencils," he muttered to the empty room.

His fingers flew across the glass, a smirk playing on his lips.

Why don't you put it in a PDF? I hear the best blackmailers use charts and a table of contents.

He tossed the phone onto the duvet and closed his eyes.

The milk did exactly what he feared.

At two in the morning, Lucien crept into the hallway, bare feet silent on the cold floorboards.

A sliver of light spilled from the kitchen, a warm, golden glow in the dead of the night.

Leon was standing at the island, flour dusting his sharp cheekbones and dark shirt.

A tablet was propped up against a bag of sugar, showing a video tutorial.

WK's undefeated heavyweight champion was currently engaged in a life-or-death struggle with a piece of dough.

"You're making... Bao?" Lucien asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Leon didn't flinch.

He snagged Lucien by the waist and hoisted him effortlessly onto the counter.

"Practicing," Leon said, pressing a quick, floury kiss to Lucien's cheek.

"I want them to look perfect for your breakfast."

Lucien's heart did a strange, painful somersault in his chest.

"It's two in the morning, Leon," he whispered.

"Go back to sleep," Leon countered, his large hand squeezing Lucien's hip.

"Unless you came out here for that bathroom break I promised."

Lucien kicked his legs uselessly as Leon marched him toward the bathroom.

"I can walk! Put me down! Leon!"

"Pee, baby," Leon said, holding him steady over the porcelain.

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, praying for a quick, merciful death.

"If they're ugly, I'm giving them to Joey," Leon muttered as he carried Lucien back to bed.

Lucien muffled a laugh into his pillow.

"Poor Joey."

Leon's mouth wandered over Lucien's damp cheek, leaving a trail of heat.

Lucien ducked his head, the effort to stay annoyed failing against the heavy ache in his chest.

Leon's hand drifted lower, catching the soft curve of Lucien's rear through his pajama pants.

"Everything tastes the same to me," Lucien muttered, his chin resting on Leon's shoulder.

Leon's thumb traced the line of Lucien's jaw, his eyes tracking every micro-expression.

"It's not the same for me," Leon rumbled, his voice a low frequency against Lucien's skin.

Lucien went quiet, his fingers curling into Leon's shirt.

No one had ever looked at him like this, as if he were the only prize that mattered.

Leon's hand patted him gently, breaking the heavy silence.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Leon asked, his breath ghosting over Lucien's ear.

Lucien's head snapped up, his eyes widening as the pressure in his bladder returned.

"Let me down, I have to go to the bathroom," Lucien scrambled, his heels kicking uselessly.

Leon's smirk sharpened, a predatory glint in the kitchen's dim light.

"Oh, so you ran out here for me to carry you," Leon teased, his grip tightening.

"No, Leon, put me down!" Lucien hissed, his face flaring a brilliant red.

Leon marched toward the bathroom, ignoring the frantic protests.

He held Lucien steady over the porcelain, his expression deceptively calm.

"Pee, baby," Leon commanded, his voice dropping into that dangerous register.

Lucien squeezed his eyes shut, the sound of running water filling the silence.

He fled back to the bedroom seconds later, burying himself under the duvet like a disgraced hermit.

"Don't talk to me next two days," Lucien muffled into the pillow.

Leon hovered in the doorway, his shadow stretching across the floor.

"Go to sleep," Leon said, a ghost of a laugh in his tone.

"And stop cooking!" Lucien shouted, his voice cracking.

"Fine," Leon replied, turning toward the hall.

The smell of rich, savory flour hit Lucien the second he opened his eyes.

A plate of flawlessly pleated buns sat on the table, beside a bowl of steaming rice porridge.

Lucien ate with a focus that suggested he might swallow the ceramic too.

"The semester break is coming up," Leon said, sliding a glass of juice across the table.

"Move into the villa with me," Leon added, his tone shifting into a calculated bribe.

Lucien paused, a bun halfway to his mouth.

"It has a fountain, a rose garden, and two Dobermans," Leon listed, watching the gears turn in Lucien's head.

Lucien's ears perked up, his interest piqued by the mention of dogs.

"Dobermans?" Lucien asked, his eyes finally lifting from the food.

"They're big, like me," Leon promised, leaning in to close the distance.

Lucien looked at the perfectly shaped buns, his resolve crumbling.

"Fine, but we aren't sharing a room," Lucien muttered, his face heating up again.

Leon just hummed, his eyes dark with a satisfied, hungry glint.

He packed a bag of snacks and juice for Lucien to take back to campus.

"Call me if you're upset," Leon said, dropping a kiss on Lucien's forehead.

"I'm not," Lucien grumbled, clutching his backpack shield.

The campus felt small, suffocating under Chen Fang's constant shadow.

Lucien avoided the drama rehearsal, the thought of seeing that smirking face making his stomach churn.

Chen Fang intercepted him near the classroom, his expression a mask of cold arrogance.

"Is the PDF done?" Lucien asked, his voice level despite the tremor in his hands.

Chen Fang's jaw tightened, his fingers twitching.

"You think I won't tell Leon what you did in China?" Chen Fang threatened, stepping into Lucien's personal space.

Lucien yawned, a dramatic display of indifference.

"Go ahead, tell him," Lucien said, patting Chen Fang's shoulder.

"Just check if your insurance covers a heavyweight champion's left hook first," Lucien added, walking away.

Chen Fang stared at Lucien's back, his face twisting with a dark, venomous rage.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he sent a message.

Leon sat on the edge of the ring, the smell of sweat and leather filling the gym.

He tossed his phone aside, the gentle mask he wore for Lucien dissolving into something lethal.

Chen Fang stood before him, trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.

"You want money?" Leon asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

He began wrapping his hands with methodical, chilling precision.

"He's mine, why would I learn about him from others?" Leon asked, stepping into the ring.

"One punch, ten thousand dollars," Leon offered, his gray-blue eyes cold as ice.

Chen Fang swallowed hard, the Las Vegas gambling debts weighing heavier than his fear.

He stepped into the ring, barely finding his footing before the world went black.

Leon's fist connected with Chen Fang's jaw, sending him sprawling across the mat like trash.

"I hate hearing his name in your mouth," Leon growled, looming over the fallen man.

A second punch caught Chen Fang in the gut, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Tell me what you said to make him unhappy," Leon commanded, his knuckles already staining red.

Half an hour later, the iron door creaked open.

Leon walked out, lighting a cigarette as he stepped into the cool night air.

"Transfer the money to his account," Leon told the guard, his expression unreadable.

He had the money, but Leon knew Chen Fang wouldn't have the life to spend it.