Lucien's words cut like knife. With a rough thrust, Lucien were all way in. Not giving time to even adjust to the size.
Cealen gasped, his head titling back, he let out a pained moan.
Lucien started to move fast, hitting deeply. Cealen's eyes are widening every time he feels a deep spot hitting in him. His eyes full of tears, he wasn't getting pleasure— instead pain.
Lucien's hand reached to grab Cealen's pre-cum leaking cock, he gave it a few stocks. His hand moving up and down roughly.
One hour... Two... Three... Four.. no, Five hours..
Caelan's wrists are raw. Blood trickles from his temple. But still, when Lucien steps into the room, Caelan lifts his head and smiles—
"You missed a spot. Right here—"
He points to his bruised chest.
"Still breathing."
Lucien stares at him. Silent.
He moves closer.
"You think this is winning?" he mutters. "You tried to kill me. You would have poisoned me like a coward."
"Then why didn't you drink it?" Caelan spits back.
That strikes.
Lucien lunges—grabs Caelan by the collar, yanks him up from the floor.
"You don't get to ask me questions."
Caelan laughs—a sound too sharp to be sane.
"You hate me so much you can't even look at me straight. Or is it guilt? Can't quite kill me, so you beat me instead?"
Lucien's grip tightens.
His voice breaks.
"You were supposed to forget me. You were supposed to be dead."
Caelan's smirk falters for just a second.
Lucien sees it—and snaps.
He slams Caelan into the wall. Fist. Elbow. Rage.
Not methodical.
Not mafia boss. Just a boy breaking.
Lucien smirked when cealen being to step back,
Caelan, breathing heavy, body twitching—finally stops moving. His head lolls.
Lucien stares at him. The bruises. The ribs that barely rise.
Something deep inside Lucien screams.
He falls to his knees beside Caelan, grabs him by the shirt, shaking him.
"Don't you dare die like this. Not like this."
But Caelan is gone—not dead, just unconscious.