He was still trembling, physiological shivers transmitted in waves from his spine all the way to the tips of his fingers. Lucien parted his lips to gasp for air, his chest heaving violently, his teary eyes completely glazed over, painting the absolute picture of someone exhausted to the point of his soul leaving his body. He no longer let out lewd moans, but instead emitted tiny, feeble sniffles, resembling a wounded little beast curling up in sheer terror.
This fear was not entirely feigned. After all, the protagonist's stamina was terrifyingly excessive, and the destructive force of that massive member had genuinely almost ruined him. But at the same time, deep within those downcast, tear-drenched eyes, a cold glimmer of lucidity began to rekindle. The mind of Lucien, previously shattered by overwhelming pleasure, was now operating at a dizzying speed.
The wild beast had eaten its fill, and the most brutal prelude had passed. Now was the time to seize the reins.
"Dominic... Dominic Vance..." Lucien called out with a trembling voice, his tone hoarse, shattered, and laced with sobs. Two pale, small hands reached out, hesitating before carefully gripping the firm bicep of Dominic Vance, as if clinging to the sole life preserver amidst a swirling maelstrom: "I am sorry... I am sorry... hic... please do not hate me..."
The motion of Dominic Vance caressing the bare back abruptly halted. Those eyes, which still flickered with the flames of unfulfilled desire, suddenly darkened, carrying an unconcealable trace of astonishment.
"Do not chase me away... I know I am dirty... hic... but please, do not hate me..." Lucien nuzzled deeply into the hollow of his neck, tears welling up once again, scalding hot as they soaked a patch of skin on Dominic Vance. His entire body shrank back, displaying the most humble and insecure defensive posture imaginable.
The heart of Dominic Vance felt as though someone had pinched it hard; a sensation of heartache mingled with frustration clawed at his chest. He frowned, his arms tightening around Lucien's waist, pressing that trembling body firmly against himself.
"What nonsense are you talking about?" Dominic Vance spoke in a low, deep voice, carrying a degree of authority yet lacking his usual cold indifference: "Who said I hate you? Who said you are dirty?"
This was the very first time in his twenty-something years of life that the young master of the Vance family, who always placed discipline above all else, felt... he seemed to have gone a bit too far. His ruthlessness in bed just now had evidently terrified this inherently obedient and timid youth.
Dominic Vance lowered his head, his complex gaze staring intently at the frail shoulders covered in teeth marks and bright red hickeys that he himself had left behind. He then looked down at the flowing water where traces of semen floated - the irrefutable evidence of his maddening indulgence. He recalled the numbing sensation of pleasure that reached the very crown of his head when he was tightly embraced by that hot, wet entrance, remembering the violent, explosive desire that he thought he would never experience in his entire lifetime.
It was not just anyone who could elicit a reaction from him. Countless individuals had actively crawled into his bed, even Miles Sinclair, his rightful and legitimate fiancé, only to be met with physiological barrenness and his utmost disgust. The unspeakable affliction that had suffocated him for so long was easily cured by this soft, sensitive body. Merely touching this skin, smelling this scent, hearing these coquettish whimpers calling his name... his body was already screaming madly with the urge to conquer and claim.
Dominic Vance clenched his fists tightly beneath the warm flowing water. A thick, overwhelming sense of possessiveness, something that even he had not yet managed to clearly define, began to take deep root within his mind. This person, this body, was his one and only antidote. No one was allowed to touch it, and there was absolutely no way he would ever let go.
"Stop crying." Dominic Vance let out a sigh, threading his fingers through the soaking wet hair of Lucien, forcing Lucien to lift his face. He bent down, tenderly kissing away the teardrops resting on Lucien's cheeks. There was no brutality, no possessive lust, merely a kiss so extraordinarily reverent.
Lucien obediently allowed him to kiss him, his long eyelashes fluttering softly, covertly hiding the satisfied smile that flashed across the depths of his eyes. Excellent, the bait had been taken.
Dominic Vance reached for the showerhead, carefully adjusting the water temperature before beginning to rinse away the sticky layer of soap coating both of them. His large hand, with its distinct knuckles, glided along the curves of Lucien's body, washing away the streaks of semen clinging to the soft underbelly and inner thighs.