Ending with a gentle kiss on the forehead, Lucian could not tear his gaze away from Aaron. In the depths of his eyes was a special kind of emotion—one that was both yearning and cherishing, as if looking at a treasure he wanted to keep for himself forever. His cold hand touched Aaron's face, slowly caressing each feature, reading every secret etched into the skin.
His voice was low and raspy, like a slow-dripping poison...
-"You're so very alluring."
Aaron let out a soft chuckle, his thin lips curving in a seductive way.
-"So am I? I think I'm more than that."
With those words, he initiated a short but deep kiss on Lucian's lips. Even though it was fleeting, the aftertaste of the kiss was like a spark igniting a flame in Lucian's reasoning.
Lucian clenched his jaw, his eyes darkening.
-"Let's see just how much..."
Before the words even ended, he roughly pushed Aaron down on the bed, one hand holding onto Aaron's ankle, pulling him close to himself. The white sheet was dislodged, revealing a mesmerizing scene—Aaron slightly arched back, hands propping himself up on the bed, eyes half-dazed and half-challenging.
-"Come on... from now on, this body is yours."
Aaron's voice was soft and whispery, yet it had the power to make Lucian's blood boil. He leaned in, nipping at Lucian's earlobe, his soft breath skimming over Lucian's skin like an intoxicating invitation.
Lucian let out a raspy laugh...
-"Seductive..."
Without hesitation, he leaned in and pinned Aaron down, sealing their lips together with a scorching kiss and conquering. Aaron responded fiercely, fingers slipping under Lucian's shirt, scratching lightly on his back as if etching the surging emotions.
Every touch was a spark, incinerating reason.
Every moan escaping Aaron's lips drove Lucian wild—no longer able to hold back, his kisses traveled from lips down the neck, then to the Adam's apple, leaving a trail of dark red marks on the snow-white skin...
-"A... hum... Lucian..."
The sweet moan rose like a seductive love song. Aaron arched beneath Lucian's touch, like a flower being possessed to its core.
Clothes fell in layers to the ground like unnecessary shells. Bare bodies touched without any distance, no limits. Rapid breaths mixed with the sound of the bedsheet being gripped tight, Aaron clutched the fabric beneath him as if trying to hold on to the last bit of sanity. But Lucian wouldn't allow that—grabbing Aaron's hands, interlocking their fingers, he locked away any final resistance.
-"Relax, Little One..."
Lucian's voice, low and husky like a spell, brushed against Aaron's ear, sending shivers down his spine. With no escape left, Aaron could only surrender—letting the man before him lead him into a sweet, spiraling madness.
Aaron's body grew limp beneath each of Lucian's movements, his eyes glistening with tears, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of pleasure.
But beneath it all was happiness—a quiet, profound happiness from being loved, from being held as something precious, irreplaceable.
And so, they became one in a night that burned wild and fierce, yet held an unexpected gentleness. A night where dominance dissolved into intimacy, where there were no roles, no barriers—only two souls slowly melting into one… in love, in desire, and in the deepest sense of possession.
—————————————————
Somewhere else—
Inside a vast room shrouded in darkness, so quiet it felt severed from the rest of the world.
On a long velvet sofa as black as midnight sat a slender figure, seemingly carved from ice—alone, yet exuding a haughty grace. One leg draped lazily over the edge of the coffee table, but the posture was far from careless; it radiated a cold, regal authority. His left hand was clad in an obsidian glove, though a few pale fingers slipped out, unintentionally flaunting a refined allure. Just one glance, and you'd know—this hand didn't belong to the realm of the ordinary.
His head rested lightly against the back of the sofa, right hand gently covering his forehead—as if caught between rest and deep, impenetrable thought. On the table sat a half-finished glass of ruby-colored wine, beside a few scattered flower petals. They looked as delicate as silk, but anyone who had tasted them would know—just like the man who owned this room, they existed only to enchant… not to let you survive the touch.
Jimson Snake.
There was no need for introductions. That name alone was a symbol.
A venomous bloom in the dark—elegant, distant, and ruthlessly cold.
The door creaked open.
A tall man in all black stepped inside, his demeanor reverent, his eyes avoiding direct contact. He brought no air of threat—only pure, unshakable respect for the figure on the sofa.
Jimson didn't glance at him. Nor did his posture shift in the slightest.
Only a calm voice, quiet as mist over a winter lake, rose into the air:
-"Is what I asked you to do finished?"
-"Yes, it is done, Sir."
-"Good."
A short pause.
-"Someone must be having a nightmare tonight, then."
The words were soft, unfeeling—yet all the more chilling because of it.
The man didn't respond. He simply bowed lower, acknowledging the truth within that whisper.
Jimson tilted his head slightly, eyes still closed. His voice was smooth and quiet, like a breeze sweeping over frozen stone:
-"Atropa… I'm a bit tired. I want to rest."
-"Yes, Sir Jimson Snake."
Atropa bowed deeply, then slipped out of the room like a shadow vanishing into more shadow.
Once again, silence returned—so complete one could hear each breath the remaining figure took. The dim light touched the curve of his cheek, sketching out a form that was both haunting and beautiful. But it wasn't a pitiful kind of loneliness—it was the proud solitude of a flower no one was worthy enough to reach.
Only after a long while did Jimson move.
He slowly peeled off the glove on his left hand, finger by finger, under the faint glow of the desk lamp. That hand… was perfect in its icy beauty—the joints slender and sculpted, the skin pale to the point of translucence, every contour as delicate as if carved by a master obsessed with precision. Every motion made it look like a living jewel, shaped by time and a hidden madness.
He said nothing. Simply gazed at his own hand, unblinking—like he was reading something ancient, something secret etched deep into the skin. In his eyes flickered an unreadable fascination, mixed with a fleeting tenderness… almost like nostalgia.
A soft smile ghosted across his lips, as thin as morning fog:
-"Heh… beautiful, isn't it…"
But that beauty wasn't meant for anyone else to see.
It was a secret Jimson Snake kept for himself
amidst the darkness, amidst the solitude he had chosen.
—————————————————
The next morning, inside the grand villa—Lucian's bedroom still bore the scattered traces of last night's passion. Clothes and belongings lay strewn across the floor, untouched by the return of reality. On the wide, soft bed, two bodies remained entwined in a close embrace.
Aaron was curled safely in Lucian's arms, lost in the deepest sleep he'd had in days—a peaceful rest after a long stretch of chaos. Lucian had woken earlier, yet he stayed there silently, just watching the little angel in his arms. His gaze was quiet, stripped of its usual cold sharpness, now softened with rare tenderness—and an undeniable trace of adoration.
His fingers gently brushed back Aaron's soft hair, careful not to wake him. Still, Aaron stirred with a faint "mm," eyes fluttering half-open. Upon seeing Lucian, he nuzzled into his chest like a sleepy kitten, lips curved into a lazy, contented smile.
Lucian let out a soft chuckle—a rare smile playing at his lips.
-"Awake, Baby?"
Aaron looked up at him, voice still groggy:
-"You've been staring at me this whole time. Don't you get bored?"
-"Never. I could look at you forever and still not get enough," Lucian murmured, fingers never ceasing their gentle caress.
-"You're impossible…" Aaron chuckled quietly, but paused when his eyes landed on his hand. A glimmering ring sat perfectly on his ring finger. He raised his hand, gazing at it—eyes shimmering as though holding something deeply precious.
-"When did you put this on me?" he asked, voice as soft as morning mist.
-"The moment I knew for sure you were my one and only."
Lucian's tone was still low, still cool, but now carried an unusual calm—like peace finally found.
Aaron beamed, arms looping around his neck, planting a light kiss on his cheek before whispering:
-"This feels like happiness… But promise me—don't be cold to me anymore, okay?"
Lucian didn't reply. Instead, he pulled Aaron closer, leaned in to his ear and whispered:
-"I love you."
Those rare words sent Aaron's heart pounding. He closed his eyes, resting his head on Lucian's shoulder, a quiet smile gracing his lips. In that moment, Aaron knew he had found the happiness he'd been searching for. And now, he was officially the consort of the possessive, relentless Lucian.
Lucian had never been good with words. He wasn't the type to whisper sweet nothings, nor did he know how to comfort others. But with him, Aaron always felt warm, safe, and protected. Once, Lucian wanted Aaron's willingness—now, he had it completely.
As for Aaron, though no longer innocent as before, the way he looked at Lucian still held that angelic spark. To Lucian, Aaron was the most precious thing in the world—the one he wanted to keep forever. His only one.
No one could say what the future might bring. The world outside was still full of danger and deceit.
But Aaron believed Lucian wouldn't betray him.
He believed—at least for now—that this hand holding his was still warm, that heart was still beating for him.
And if one day, everything were to change…
Aaron only hoped he would never regret choosing to love this possessive man.
EndofChapter12.