The wedding was over, but the chaos was just beginning.

Grills lined the beach, sizzling under the heat. The bass from the speakers thrummed through the sand, vibrating in Lucien's chest. Jamie and Bert were on a makeshift stage, dancing like they were trying to shake their heads off their shoulders.

Lucien swapped his formal suit for light linen and wandered toward the smoke. He was exhausted, his legs heavy from the ceremony, but the scent of charred meat pulled him forward.

Leon stood over the coals, flipping skewers with practiced precision. The second Lucien stepped into range, Leon pressed a glistening, oil-dripping skewer to his lips.

"I've been watching you for twenty minutes!" Joey shouted from the side. "You haven't left a single one for the rest of us!"

Leon didn't even look up. He watched Lucien take a bite, his gray-blue eyes tracking the way Lucien's throat moved as he swallowed. "I'm grilling for my wife. Get your own."

Lucien's ears turned a violent shade of pink. Leon had called him "baby" for months, but since the vows, it had been "wife" at every opportunity. He chewed the succulent meat, nodding quickly. "It's good. Really good."

"Eat slowly," Leon murmured, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "I'll get you some juice."

Joey groaned, shaking his head at the display of domestic bliss. "You two are nauseating." He turned and bolted toward the bar before Leon could retaliate.

Lucien watched him go, a small laugh escaping him. Leon stepped behind him, his large hand smoothing over Lucien's soft black hair. "Ignore him."

He handed a glass of chilled juice to Lucien. "Tired? We can head back and rest."

Lucien shook his head, leaning into Leon's solid heat. He was drained, but watching the club members and his friends lose their minds under the moonlight was too entertaining to miss.

Leon pulled two folding chairs together. They sat in the shadows of the firelight, watching the madness on stage while Lucien picked at skewers and sipped his juice.

Jamie eventually jumped down from the stage, sweat glistening on his forehead. He waved them over. "Hey! Newweds! Get over here and do something besides look pretty!"

Lucien propped his chin on his hand. "I can't sing. And I definitely can't dance like that."

"My brother can!" Bert yelled from the stage, pointing a finger at Leon. "I heard he won a singing contest in elementary school!"

Leon's gaze went lethal. He looked at his cousin with the cold intensity of a predator. "It's my wedding day, Bert. Don't make me deck you."

Bert immediately ducked behind a speaker.

Lucien's eyes widened, shimmering like melted amber in the firelight. He turned to Leon. "You can sing?".

Leon's posture went stiff. He looked at Lucien, seeing the genuine curiosity and the soft pout of his lips. The "North American Gray Wolf" was trapped.

"Don't listen to him," Leon rasped.

Lucien blinked, his lashes casting long shadows. "I want to hear it. I've never heard you sing."

Leon paused. He looked at the stage, then back at the "trembling lamb" in his arms. He let out a low, defeated sigh and stood up. He walked toward the mic with a rigid, military gait.

The crowd erupted. Phones came out, screens glowing in the dark.

"Look at that," Jamie whispered, rolling his eyes. "Total double standard. He'd kill us for asking, but one look from the wife and he's a rockstar."

Bert peeked out, sighing as he watched Lucien. Lucien was sitting perfectly still, his chin in his palms, eyes locked on Leon. "White, soft, and pretty. I get it. I'd sing for him too."

Leon gripped the microphone. He didn't look at the crowd. His steel-gray eyes stayed anchored on Lucien. He began to sing, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that sounded like a cello's deepest string.

The English lyrics were slow and tender, carried away by the salt-thickened breeze. Lucien swayed his head to the beat, a permanent smile fixed on his face.

As the song faded into the sound of the waves, Leon leaned into the mic.

"This song is for my beloved."

Lucien felt his heart do parkour in his ribs. He didn't say it out loud, but he mouthed the words clearly for Leon to see.

I love you.

Most wedding nights involve counting cash or collapsing from exhaustion. For Lucien, it involved sitting on the rug of their villa, surrounded by a mountain of gift boxes.

Leon stepped out of the bathroom, steam clinging to his broad shoulders. He dried his hair with a towel, watching Lucien struggle with a stubborn ribbon.

"Stop," Leon chuckled, walking over. "Open them tomorrow. It's late."

Lucien gave the ribbon one final, frustrated tug. The box flipped over, the lid popping off. A collection of colorful "tools" spilled across the floor.

Lucien went dead silent. He didn't need to check the card to know this was Jamie's handiwork.

Leon arched a dark brow. He reached down and picked up a fuzzy white object. "A lamb tail?".

It wasn't a clip-on ball like the one Leon had cut off months ago. This one was realistic, plush, and designed to be "worn" internally.

Lucien's face flared. He lunged for it, but Leon simply raised his hand. Lucien was 175cm, but Leon was 195cm; the height gap was a physical barrier Lucien couldn't climb.

"Don't be impatient," Leon teased, his voice dropping into that manipulative 'King' register. "I need to disinfect it first."

"Give it back!" Lucien squeaked, his eyes rimmed with red. "That's... that's my gift!"

Leon narrowed his eyes. "Hmm? What did you call me?".

Lucien realized his mistake. He softened his voice, looking up through his lashes. "Please, husband. Just give it to me."

Leon smirked, leaning down to capture Lucien's waist. "Don't worry, baby. I'll put it on for you right now."

Lucien's expression shifted instantly. "You liar! I called you husband!"

Leon shrugged, hoisting Lucien into his arms like a sack of fragile flour. "I never said I'd give it back if you called me that."

On their first night as a married couple, Leon finally got the "lamb" he had been hunting.

Lucien curled into the silk sheets, his skin flushed a deep, feverish pink. He trembled as Leon adjusted the furry ears on his head. A tuft of white fur peeked out from behind him—the lamb tail.

Leon stared at the sight, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. Lucien looked like an accidental seduction incarnate.

"Baby," Leon rasped, leaning down to pepper Lucien's spine with sharp, possessive bites. "I love you. So much."

Lucien bit his lip, trying to stifle the broken sounds escaping him. The night was long, and Leon was a predator who had finally cornered his prey.

Lucien had promised to watch the sunrise with Jamie and the others. Naturally, he didn't make it.

He woke up when the sun was already high in the sky. He immediately buried his face in the pillow, a muffled groan echoing in the room. Jamie was going to know exactly why he missed the morning call.

Leon sat beside him, his heavy hands working the knots in Lucien's lower back. "It's fine. We can see it tomorrow. We're staying for a few more days."

"It's your fault!" Lucien grumbled into the fabric.

"My fault," Leon agreed easily.

Lucien hammered his fists against the mattress. "Throw those things away! Throw them all out!"

Leon's brow furrowed. "I can't do that. They were gifts. It's rude to waste people's kindness. We have to use every single one."

Lucien rolled over, staring at Leon in disbelief. The man's audacity was truly boundless.

Leon leaned in, capturing Lucien's mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. "Happy first day, wife. You hungry?".

Lucien grit his teeth. He lunged forward and bit Leon's neck, right over the pulse point. "I want to eat wolf meat."

Leon laughed, the sound vibrating through Lucien's chest. "It's all yours."

The sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, warming the room. Leon pulled his lamb into a crushing embrace, patting his back gently.

"When we get back to the city, we're getting the license," Leon said.

"Okay."

"Want to go back to China?" Leon asked. "I'll go with you."

Lucien thought about his father's cold house and the museums his mother loved. With Leon beside him, the distance didn't seem so daunting. "Yeah. I'd like that."

"Good boy." Leon's voice was an seductive purr. "Will you call me 'husband' from now on?".

"Yes."

"And when everyone leaves the island... we can go down to the beach...".

"Leon! Stop it!".

Leon let out a low, dark laugh and scooped him up. "Time for a bath, wife."

In the future, there would be thousands of days like this—some quiet, some chaotic, but all of them theirs.