Joey gulped, his throat working hard as he watched the taillights fade into the distance.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed a number.

"Yeah, tomorrow. I need the best medical team on standby at the training center.".

Joey let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I'll tell you why if I'm still breathing by noon.".

Leon reached for Lucien's hand, his voice dropping into that low, persuasive rumble.

"Don't listen to him, baby. He's just drunk.".

Lucien swiped his hand away, his eyes sparking with kitten-ferocity..

"He's right. Effective immediately—I'm issuing a No-Kissing Order. No more random attacks!".

Leon's jaw tightened, his expression shifting into something pained..

"Baby... can we negotiate that?".

"No negotiations," Lucien snapped, marching ahead toward the car.

Leon exhaled—a long, frustrated sound—before trailing after his grumpy prize.

By the time the car reached the apartment, Lucien was out cold, his head lolling against the window.

Leon didn't wake him—he just gathered the boy into his arms, moving with practiced, careful strength.

Lucien shifted, his cheek rubbing against Leon's chest as he found a comfortable spot.

His lips were parted slightly—soft, red, and smelling faintly of something sweet.

Leon's Adam's apple bobbed. He leaned in—slow, deliberate—centimeters away from a stolen taste.

The phone in his pocket blared—the sudden noise cutting through the heavy silence.

Lucien's eyes fluttered open, blinking up at Leon with a dazed, confused stare.

"Go back to sleep," Leon rasped, though he finally set the boy on his feet.

Lucien poked him in the chest. "Answer that. It's annoying.".

Leon pulled the phone out, his face turning to ice when he saw Joey's name on the screen.

"You have a death wish?" Leon answered, his tone dropping to sub-zero.

Joey's voice crackled through the receiver, desperate and fast..

"Look—bring him to the gym tomorrow. Show him your training. Let the testosterone do the talking!".

Leon hung up without a word, his gaze falling back to Lucien's wide, curious eyes.

"What was that about?" Lucien asked.

"Joey. He wants to know if you want to see the training facility tomorrow.".

Lucien thought for a second, then nodded. "Sure. As long as you aren't actually fighting.".

"Just training," Leon promised, leaning in until their noses brushed.

Lucien immediately pressed two fingers against Leon's lips, blocking the path.

"No kissing. I told you.".

Leon didn't back away—he just opened his mouth and took Lucien's fingers inside.

Lucien froze as Leon's tongue swirled around his fingertips—hot, rough, and incredibly suggestive.

His steel-gray eyes remained locked on Lucien's face, tracing the way the boy's skin flushed deep red.

"You... you're a freak," Lucien squeaked, snatching his hand back.

He bolted for the bathroom, his heart doing parkour against his ribs.

The steam was already thick when Leon knocked—a single, symbolic rap against the wood.

Lucien didn't have time to answer before the door swung open and Leon sauntered in.

"Who said you could come in?!" Lucien hissed, scrambling to cover himself.

"You didn't lock it. I took that as an invitation.".

Leon stepped closer, his shadow stretching across the tiles..

"You're tense. Your muscles are going to ache tomorrow if you don't relax properly.".

Lucien blinked through the mist. "How am I supposed to do that?".

"I'll help you," Leon murmured. "Right here.".

The shower spray hummed in the background, the air turning heavy with humidity..

Lucien sat on the small bench, his lips trembling as Leon kneeled before him.

The WK boxing champion—the most feared man on campus—looked like a wolf bowing to its lamb.

Leon's blonde hair brushed against Lucien's inner thigh, a sensation that sent sparks through the boy's nerves.

Lucien's breath hitched—a broken, shaky sound—as the world seemed to dissolve into heat.

He gripped Leon's hair, his knuckles turning white as his head fell back against the wall.

Leon looked up, a slow, dark smirk playing on his lips as he swallowed.

Lucien's face went nuclear. Tears finally spilled over, hot and messy..

"What's wrong, baby? Did I bite?" Leon asked, his voice rough.

"No... it's just... it's never been that fast before," Lucien muffled into his hands.

Leon let out a low, satisfied chuckle. "I believe in your potential, baby.".

Lucien crawled into bed minutes later, feeling like his legs were made of overcooked noodles.

He buried himself under the duvet, vowing to ignore Leon for at least forty-eight hours.

In the next room, Leon sat in the dark, staring at a small, white scrap of fabric.

He'd taken it from the bathroom while Lucien wasn't looking—a small, personal prize.

Leon brought the fabric to his face, inhaling the scent of coffee and Lucien's skin.

His throat worked as he exhaled a heavy, jagged breath.

"Little lamb," he whispered into the silence. "I really want to eat you.".