The Nectar club wasn't a venue — it was an extension of his body, warm, damp, pulsing in time with the music. Lucian stepped off the stage, every nerve raw and singing with hunger. It wasn't just a craving; it was a physical withdrawal. His gaze, hazy with desire, locked onto a figure at the bar. A solitary boy. Quiet. He radiated an icy calm, and that cold burned Lucian more fiercely than any lust. Mine, hissed the animal instinct within him.

He didn't just approach — he invaded. He melted into the boy's space, erasing every boundary. His hips pressed softly but inexorably against the other's side, cutting off any escape. Lucian leaned in so close his lips nearly brushed the boy's neck, his words spilling not into the ear but straight into the body, a low, vibrating whisper meant to raise goosebumps across the skin:

"— You can't imagine what it's like — to feel every single one of your glances on me. They burn. They drove me mad up there on stage. Tell me what you want. Say it, and it's yours. Everything."

With one hand, he took the boy's hand — not just touched, but entwined his fingers, pressing the palm flat against his bare chest, letting him feel the frantic heartbeat that was, in truth, nothing but a performance. His other hand slid around the boy's back, resting on the small of it, pulling him closer, almost forcing him to rise.

"— I can make you forget your own name," he breathed, lips finally brushing the skin at his collarbone. Not a kiss, but a promise — hot, damp, searing. "Just allow it. Give me one breath."

And then he felt it. Or rather — he didn't. The body beneath his hands remained relaxed, yet unyielding. Not resisting, but inert. The hand pressed to his chest didn't pull away, but its fingers didn't curl, didn't dig into his skin. They stayed cold, detached.

The boy slowly turned his head. Their faces were barely a centimeter apart. His breathing was steady. In his eyes there was no haze of desire — only clarity, sharp and piercing. He looked at Lucian the way one might regard an intriguing specimen under a microscope. His gaze slid across his face, mapping every tattoo like a chart, then dropped lower... to where the thin chain on Lucian's hip bit into his skin, leaving a faint irritation.