In the dim light of the study, Colin feels the weight of Ulric's gaze more than any rival's threat to their dukedom. His yielding nature has always shielded him from deeper wounds, yet the older man's quiet commands erode every defense he has built.
Ulric carries his own scars from family betrayal, masked by the strict discipline he imposes. The brush of his hand against Colin's hip draws them both toward a submission that promises belonging even as it risks exposure and ruin.
The door clicks shut. Ulric guides him forward, lowering the breeches until bare skin meets the cool air, his palm hovering with the promise of the first strike that could bind them forever or shatter their claim.
