Chapter 52 The Scepter of Control
Lucien’s thumb brushed the tear from Elian’s cheek almost gently, even as his hips rocked forward again, feeding more of his thick cock into that willing, choking heat.
"You cry so prettily for me," he murmured, his voice dark velvet. "Does it shame you? That the man you hate can make your mouth water like this?"
Elian’s only answer was a low, humiliated moan that vibrated deliciously around Lucien’s length. His eyes stayed locked upward—defiant even now, even with his lips stretched obscenely and drool slipping down his chin.
That look—that stubborn, burning pride—snapped something in Lucien.
He tightened his grip in Elian’s curls and began to fuck his mouth with deeper, more purposeful strokes. Not brutal, but relentless. Claiming. Each thrust pushed against the tight ring of Elian’s throat, forcing him to take it, to accept it.
"Mine," Lucien growled under his breath, over and over like a prayer and a curse. "You’re fucking mine, Elian. Every breath. Every secret. Every moan."
Elian’s hands clutched desperately at Lucien’s thighs, not pushing away, but holding on as his throat fluttered and spasmed around the invading cock. His own erection strained painfully against his pants, untouched, leaking. The power imbalance was devastatingly clear: Lucien fully dressed, towering above him; Elian half-undone on his knees, serving the man who held his life in his hands.
Lucien’s rhythm faltered as pleasure coiled viciously at the base of his spine.
"Look at me," he ordered hoarsely.
Elian obeyed instantly, those wet blue eyes rising. The raw vulnerability mixed with simmering rebellion in them finally broke Lucien.
"Fuck—Elian—"
A guttural groan tore from deep in Lucien’s chest as he shoved in deep and came hard, pulsing thick ropes of hot release straight down Elian’s throat. His fingers locked in those soft curls, his hips stuttering, his thighs trembling with the force of it.
Elian swallowed reflexively, taking every drop, his eyes never leaving Lucien’s face even as fresh tears slipped free.
When Lucien finally pulled back, spent and breathing hard, a thin string of saliva and cum still connected Elian’s swollen lips to the head of his cock. Elian gasped for air, his lips parted, his tongue unconsciously licking the mess from the corner of his mouth.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Lucien stared down at the beautiful wreck he’d made of Elian—flushed face, messy hair, bruised lips, and those eyes that still held far too much power. Slowly, he tucked himself away and pulled Elian up by the arm, not roughly, but with undeniable possession.
Once Elian was on his feet, Lucien cupped his jaw, his thumb pressing into the wet lower lip.
"Do not think this gives you power," Lucien whispered, his voice rough. "It doesn’t. Yes... it makes you dangerous, but not strong." His gaze darkened. "Because between us, I hold the scepter. Are we clear?" He gazed right into Elian’s blue eyes.
Elian’s breath trembled. He almost leaned into the touch despite himself, his voice barely audible.
He was angry, ashamed, bitter. But this time, he blamed himself entirely. He had allowed this... he had wanted this.
Shame on him!
"You like to break me, don’t you? To conquer me," Elian muttered, his voice hoarse as his throat still felt Lucien’s shaft deep within.
Lucien’s eyes flashed with something raw—hunger, satisfaction, and the faintest flicker of fear.
He leaned in, brushing a surprisingly soft kiss against Elian’s abused lips. "You are right, little Truth Seeker," he murmured against Elian’s mouth. "And we both know you’ll let me conquer you again."
Elian looked away, biting his lower lip.
Lucien frowned, tilting Elian’s face up. "You will cease shedding those annoying tears. Right now," he ordered.
Elian chuckled faintly. "Do they bother you?" he questioned softly.
Lucien scoffed. "They irritate me. Now, go into your room," he said, stepping away from Elian.
Elian sniffled, his gaze lowered to the floor as Lucien moved toward his door.
Slowly, he moved toward his own door, feeling like a cheap whore who got no penny after a service. He was about to push his door in when Lucien’s voice paused his hand mid-air.
"Do not touch yourself, young Morel. Not even the slightest. Understand?" Lucien stated.
Elian’s face darkened in anger. He lifted his gaze to Lucien. "I hear you." Selfish bastard, he added in his head.
He opened his door and slid in quietly, refusing to show how frustrated he was. The moment he locked his door, he pressed his back against it, his gaze lowering to the strain in his pants.
Why should he even obey Lucien? It wasn’t like he would know if he did anything. And it was his body—or was he not allowed to please his own body anymore?
Enraged, he went straight to the bed and fell on his back, licking his lips slowly. The action reminded him of what he’d done outside just a few seconds ago. It was unexpected, but he swore that every second on his knees in front of Lucien had him feeling like the most powerful man on earth.
A slow thought emerged in his head.
What if surrendering to Lucien was the key?
Instead of being defiant, he’d turn compliant, giving Lucien exactly what he wanted. And when Lucien had lowered his guard enough around him, he’d strike when the iron was hot.
He shook his head; that would be torturing himself. He couldn’t even imagine himself psychologically submitting to Lucien. Yes, unfortunately, his body wanted Lucien, but his mind had never derailed from the purpose: to avenge his father.
By morning, he would find Cassian and find out exactly what he was hiding about what truly happened with his father.
Meanwhile, in the other chamber, Lucien stood at the foot of his bed with his eyes closed, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked.
He wasn’t even trying to fight it; he let the images flood his head, and he let his heart beat so out of rhythm as he pictured Elian on his knees.
He only wanted to speak to Elian tonight, but seeing him with Cassian, something had snapped in him, and the moment Elian kissed him, he knew he wasn’t as strong as he thought. Those few minutes with Elian outside his door were the most dangerous of his lifetime.
For the first time, he was dependent on someone else for his pleasure and validation. He needed Elian to assure him that Cassian meant nothing to him, and he wanted to be sure that Elian yearned for him just as much as he did for him.
He sighed, dragging his hand down his face as he stared at his door. He knew Elian must be battling over there. Telling him not to pleasure himself might sound a bit rash, but he wanted to be the one to give Elian even the tiniest pleasure.
He wanted Elian to be completely dependent on him for his pleasure... not only his pain.
Perhaps that would make Elian see him as something past a monster.
He paused, frowning hard.
Why did it matter how Elian saw him?
Why didn’t he want to be seen as a monster? He was a monster, and Elian had every right to see him as one.
After all, he killed Elian’s father...
Something was going wrong with Lucien, and he knew it.
"What is wrong with me?" he muttered, lowering himself onto his bed and burying his face in his hands, gritting his teeth.
He was letting those voices get to him; they were starting to mess with him, and it seemed to get worse whenever he saw Elian with someone else. He couldn’t believe he had reacted that way earlier.
Losing his balance just because a captive was speaking to another man? That was completely unacceptable.
He wasn’t going to worry about whether Elian was going to leave, because he knew Elian was never going to leave. He wouldn’t allow it as long as he had the power.
He stood, dragging a chair toward the window. As usual, he would watch the moon until sunrise; there was no Elian by his side to lure him to sleep. That, also, was another mystery about Elian he was yet to figure out. Once Elian was in the same room as him, sleep no longer feared him; rather, it engulfed him, and if he wasn’t even careful, he might fall asleep standing.
Dangerous.
Elian was far more dangerous to him than anything. He owned no swords, no lands, no titles, yet Lucien felt deep in his bones that Elian could easily destroy him if he meant to.
"Damn it," Lucien murmured.
He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the backrest of the chair, thinking about everything and anything.
One thing was clear: he wanted Elian.
But another thing was also clear: he would never show Elian just how much he was starting to affect him. He’d seen too much of this dark world to ever trust anyone, especially not the son of someone who tried to murder him.
He was in control, and Elian had no choice but to live by his orders.