Chapter Forty Seven: Colour Code

“Yeah,” Noah managed. “I—understand.”

It was the answer Lucien wanted, an answer shaped by compliance, not by surrender. Lucien’s fingers slid from Noah’s throat and trailed down his collarbone in a movement that could have been tender if you ignored the context. He didn’t release him fully; instead his palm flattened against Noah’s sternum, steadying him.

“You will behave,” Lucien said. “Not because I'm trying to control you or break you, but because I teach you how to hold yourself in a place where you don’t get broken. That distinction matters.”

Noah’s breath was jagged. The wall pressed warm against his spine. His hands were needle-light at his sides. In the charged silence that followed—the sort of silence that is always louder than words—Lucien’s grip eased, becoming less about suppression and more about the finality of instruction.

Noah swallowed. The smell of Lucien's metallic and citrus cologne filled him. He felt small and incandescent and very foolish for having push