CHAPTER 430: CHAPTER 430: MORNING PASSION

The light crept in slowly.

Not the golden grandeur of palace ballrooms or the sterile glow of political offices, but something softer, sunlight diffused through linen curtains, warm and pale across the bedspread, like it had been told not to disturb.

Lucas blinked once, then again. The familiar ache in his shoulders was gone. His back didn’t twinge. The baby monitor on the nightstand hummed softly, reporting nothing but peaceful static and the slow rise of a four-month-old chest in the next room.

And beside him, stretched out on his stomach, limbs sprawled with the careless grace of someone who knew they were allowed to rest after a long storm, was Trevor.

Bare chest and black boxers.

Sleep-tousled black hair.

Long lashes casting shadows against skin just warm enough to make Lucas’s mouth go dry for a moment.

He hadn’t noticed how much he missed this. Not the sight, he’d always seen Trevor, the man had no shame or humility in him. Had touched him, leaned into him at night, felt the steady rhythm of his heart beneath layers of cloth and responsibility.

But this...

This was different.

Trevor looked younger like this, was still built like a man who could win wars and hide bodies, but today was gentler. Quiet. His body sculpted in golden light, muscles shifting subtly with every breath, the edge of his hip barely covered by the sheet that Lucas now realized he was clinging to for no good reason other than modesty and habit.

Modesty hadn’t lasted long in this bed. Habit... was harder to shake.

Lucas propped himself up on one elbow, breath catching a little.

He’d healed. That was no longer the issue.

Trevor had waited, never going beyond what Lucas could give, never once reaching for more. Just long kisses, soft touches, a hand at his waist when they passed in the hall, a temple pressed to his shoulder during the worst nights of exhaustion.

It made Lucas ache in a different way now. A deeper one.

Because this was his. Trevor Fitzgeralt. His husband. His alpha.

And he wanted him.

Wanted the warmth of that body pressed against his. The quiet groan Trevor always made when Lucas kissed just beneath his jaw. The slow, growing tension in those strong arms when he let himself want, let himself need.

Lucas leaned in, slow and careful, brushing his lips along the curve of Trevor’s shoulder, the dip of his spine. Featherlight. A whisper of intent.

Trevor stirred slightly, not waking yet, but shifting toward the warmth instinctively.

Lucas’s hand followed next, splayed across Trevor’s lower back, fingers sliding up, tracing familiar lines. His mouth followed, another kiss. Just a little firmer.

This time, Trevor’s breath hitched.

Then, a groggy voice, hoarse and low: "Lucas?"

Lucas didn’t stop. "Morning."

Trevor blinked slowly, eyelashes fluttering. He still looked half-dreaming, like he couldn’t decide if this was real or some very good fantasy.

Lucas kissed him again, this time near the corner of his mouth. "I’m awake," he whispered, "and I want you."

Trevor exhaled sharply, the sound more prayer than breath, and his eyes finally opened, violet and warm and entirely focused.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice wrecked with the effort to stay still.

Lucas nodded, heart thudding. "I wouldn’t wake you like this if I wasn’t."

Trevor’s hand rose slowly, almost reverent, brushing a strand of hair behind Lucas’s ear before letting his thumb rest along his cheek. "Tell me if anything hurts."

"It doesn’t" Lucas said, and leaned in until their foreheads touched. "Just... you don’t have to be careful anymore."

Trevor’s mouth met his a second later, hungry, slow, deep. Like a man finally allowed to breathe after weeks underwater. And Lucas melted into it.

A low, possessive growl rumbled from Trevor’s chest, vibrating through Lucas’s lips. It was pure alpha, that sound, and it went straight to Lucas’s core, a liquid heat pooling low in his belly. Trevor’s hands came up to frame his face, thumbs stroking his cheeks as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into Lucas’s mouth with a claiming intensity that made Lucas whimper.

His own scent, usually a soft, began to thicken in the air, curling around them with the first stirrings of arousal. In answer, Trevor’s potent, cedar scent bloomed, dark and musky and utterly intoxicating. It was the scent of home, of mine, and it drowned out everything else.

Trevor broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down Lucas’s jaw, teeth grazing the sensitive skin over his pulse point before finding the scent gland. Lucas cried out, back arching off the mattress as Trevor’s tongue lashed against the sensitive spot. Every nerve ending was on fire. He could feel the slick beginning to seep from him, a hot, sticky wetness that soaked through his thin boxers, his sweet scent intensifying.

"Trevor," he gasped, his fingers digging into his alpha’s broad shoulders.

In one fluid move, Trevor rolled them over, settling his heavy weight between Lucas’s thighs. The pressure was exquisite, pinning him to the matress. Trevor looked down at him, eyes blazing with a feral heat. "I’ve missed this," he rasped, hips grinding down in a slow, deliberate circle. The hard length of him, already straining against his boxers, pressed against Lucas’s own erection, separated only by two layers of damp cotton.

Lucas could only moan in response, buckling up against him, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more everything. With a low chuckle, Trevor hooked his fingers into the waistband of Lucas’s boxers and peeled them down his legs in a single pull.

The cool air hit his wetness, and Lucas flushed with a mix of embarrassment and raw need. But Trevor’s gaze was pure worship. "Look at you," he breathed, his voice thick with awe. "So perfect. So ready for me." He lowered his head, and Lucas’s eyes flew wide.

"W-what are you... oh, god."

Trevor’s tongue licked a firm stripe through his slickness. Lucas’s hips jerked off the bed, a shattered cry torn from his throat. It was too much. It wasn’t enough. Trevor’s strong hands pinned his hips to the mattress, holding him still as he feasted. He licked and sucked, exploring him with a devotion that bordered on madness, groaning against him as if he were tasting the finest wine. The sound, the vibration, the overwhelming sensation of that talented mouth on his most intimate parts, Lucas was close, his vision spotting, his fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Stop, please, I can’t... I’m gonna..." he begged, incoherent.

Trevor pulled back, his chin glistening. "I want to feel you come on my tongue," he said, his voice a low alpha rumble that made Lucas shiver. He dipped his head again, sucking Lucas into his mouth.

The world fractured. Lucas screamed as the orgasm ripped through him, a tidal wave of pure, shattering pleasure that left him trembling and boneless. Through the haze, he felt Trevor shed his own boxers, then the blunt, insistent pressure of his cockhead at his entrance.

"Look at me," Trevor growled.