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MLQC Lucien × MC

Tags: angst and romance, feels, implicit nsfw

[ Hi, I'm new around here so I hope you like this piece :) here' the ao3 link ]

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It was a mild spring afternoon. Even though the sun shone, only a few light beams came in through the blinds. The flowers that made the outdoor landscape cheer and colorful were a clear contrast in comparison with the gloom and darkness between four walls.

The light hit a handsome, pale, tired face – thinner than it used to be –, as if trying to clear a pair of eyes so deep that seemed to swallow sunbeams. And by this miserable light, not enough to illuminate the room as it should, a sigh was heard.

Lucien stood up from that cold floor full of papers and pills and attempted to clean up the place – the last thing he wanted was annoying worried work partners. He hadn't slept for days, his body lacked strength, his head was aching and spinning as always. Maybe he shouldn't get used to it, he thought, but that left his mind as fast as the knock on the door came. The sound waves dissipated through the air, little by little, and almost weren't recognized as real.

It was her, he knew it. His unreliable visitor, weakness, haunting. Just like a spectral creature and without a word, the lady in black entered as if she was dancing. Her dress fluttered as her forbidden stolen beauty glittered. The gloom made her resemble a spirit even more, one that came from the underworld to torment a single man, carrying bitterness, melancholy and guilt. Her presence was like sweet death itself. The girl knew it, and was able to execute her maneuvers with mastery.

It was unfair. Lucien wanted to send her away, expel this flash and bone ghost so he wouldn't get to feel the weight of his decisions... but he couldn't. The small and delicate body, the brown hair and big shiny eyes – everything looked exactly like Her. He wasn't capable of resisting, of denying to hear any single word or to feel any small touch from the beautiful figure in black. His body and soul needed and demanded it.

After entering the dimly lit room, every step of the Queen was like a dance. She looked right at the man's face and gave him a sweet smile that hid a cold and harsh truth. The more she approached the professor, the more her intentions were clear. Lucien shouldn't get used to that, but it was inevitable.

Before him, the lady moved her arm and sweetly carressed his face with the tips of her fingers. The man reacted to her touch, closing his eyes and sighing with relief, sadness and need. The girl touched his lips lightly, rubbing her fingers slowly through the surface, making his breath quicken. When she stopped moving her hand and her look became even more intense, Lucien couldn't hold it any longer.

The professor pulled the Queen against his own body, holding her face with both hands and kissing her with greed and despair – like a hungry animal catching its prey; a wanderer of the desert before an oasis; a fool drinking his goblet of wine without knowing it contained the deadliest of poisons. That was the way she made him feel and, thanks to obsession or need, he was willing to throw himself off a cliff to feel it.

Every touch underneath his clothes and against his skin tranquilized and traumatized him. His mind was deep in chaos. He tasted with guilt every part of that little body with the wrong soul like the world was about to end. After all, Lucien knew that she would discard him, leave him again waiting, without letting him know when he would see her again. She kept playing this game knowing she had already won. And Lucien had transpassed the threshold of madness long ago.