Lucien stopped in the hallway, eyeing the red blooms the staff had placed in the vases.

Everything had turned a festive, aggressive red overnight. Even the pillars were plastered with "Double Happiness" cutouts.

"Planning on getting a second wife?" Lucien asked, looking at the traditional Chinese decor.

Leon didn't blink. He reached out and pinched Lucien's pale cheek.

"It means after I'm done with you from the front tonight, I can flip you over," Leon rumbled.

Lucien jumped, slamming his hand over Leon's mouth. "Take that back! Merde!"

Leon caught his wrist and kissed the center of his palm. "I checked the calendar. Isn't it almost Spring Festival in your country?"

Lucien blinked, his annoyance fading into a slight daze. "I almost forgot."

"You said it was an important holiday," Leon noted. "I had them set it up early."

Lucien pointed at the red paper characters. "This says 'Happiness.' We usually use 'Fortune' for the New Year."

Leon ruffled Lucien's soft black hair. "The staff got the wrong ones. I'll have them swapped."

"Don't bother," Lucien murmured. "But we're making dumplings together. No professional chefs allowed."

Lucien poked at the solid, heavy muscle of Leon's forearm. "I'm starting a workout routine today. I want to be firm."

Leon arched a dark brow. "Good. Maybe you won't cry for mercy halfway through the night if you're 'firmer'."

"You have an addiction," Lucien declared with a huff. "You need to see a doctor."

Leon let out a low laugh and scooped Lucien up. "Maybe. Why don't you examine me later, baby?"

The top floor of the manor was a sea of professional equipment that made every doorway feel too small.

Lucien eyed the pull-up bar. "Will this make my arms as thick as your neck?"

"You're perfect as you are," Leon noted, leaning against a weight bench with predatory grace.

Lucien pointed toward the ceiling. "I can't reach. Lift me."

Leon hoisted him up effortlessly, his hands like iron bands around Lucien's waist.

Lucien gripped the cold steel bar, but his arms felt like lead. He couldn't move an inch.

Leon didn't let go; he simply held Lucien's weight, his biceps straining against his shirt.

Lucien's breath hitched as Leon moved him up and down like a toy.

"Don't pant like that," Leon warned, his steel-gray eyes fixed on Lucien's throat.

Lucien looked down, his face flushing. "What? Why?".

Leon's jaw tightened. "Just stop."

Lucien emerged from the bathroom later that night to find Leon already lying in bed.

Leon didn't offer to blow-dry Lucien's hair like he usually did. He just watched him.

Lucien padded closer, feeling the sudden weight of the silence. "Leon?".

A large, hot hand snagged Lucien's wrist—pulling him onto the silk mattress.

"Doctor," Leon rasped against his ear. "Weren't you going to examine me tonight?"

Lucien licked his lips, his heart doing parkour. "Examine what?"

Leon guided Lucien's hand toward the heavy tension in his trousers. "The addiction."

Lucien scrambled back, assuming a stern expression. "I need my tools. Stay put, patient."

Leon settled back against the pillows, watching Lucien with a look of terrifying self-control.

Lucien returned wearing one of Leon's crisp white shirts—the sleeves rolled up into thick cuffs.

He held a thermometer gun and "biu'd" Leon's forehead.

"Temperature's normal," Lucien noted. "The problem must be deeper."

He unbuttoned Leon's top, revealing the carved, bronzed planes of his chest.

Lucien's ears burned as he leaned down to press his ear against Leon's skin.

Leon's heart was drumming a wild, heavy rhythm.

"Too much poisonous fire," Lucien diagnosed. "I have to disinfect the area."

Lucien lunged—sinking his teeth into Leon's pectoral muscle.

Leon groaned—the sound vibrating through Lucien's entire body.

Lucien pulled back, admiring the symmetrical red marks he'd left on the boxer's chest.

"I think the condition is critical, Doc," Leon rasped, his gray eyes darkening.

Lucien pulled a silk tie from the nightstand. "I'm prescribing a total lockdown."

Leon went still. "Lucien... don't. You'll get it wet."

"You didn't care when you used it to bind my wrists," Lucien countered, tieing Leon's hands.

Lucien patted Leon's cheek. "Keep these on. I'm sleeping in the guest room."

Leon's expression shifted—the look of a wolf whose cage door just broke.

The duvet flipped back as Leon surged out of bed—the silk tie snapping loose instantly.

Lucien's eyes went wide. "Leon! You aren't wearing pants!"

"You tied me up," Leon growled, slinging Lucien over his shoulder. "Why would I wear pants?"

He tossed Lucien onto the mattress and loomed over him.

"This is medical malpractice," Leon whispered, his breath hot against Lucien's mouth.

Leon threw the discarded tie onto the floor.

"Let me show you how to actually treat a patient," Leon commanded.

Lucien spent the rest of the night "learning" the lesson in broken, breathless gasps.