Samuel Frost fell into a heavy silence. He could feel the gravity of Julian Hale's dependency—a tether that wasn't a healthy sign for either of them.

Whether in their professional capacity at Apex Capital or their private lives, he knew he shouldn't let this go any further.

He should have cut him off, clean and surgical.

But Julian's behavior was a rare thing. This was the first time the boy had ever reached for something under the light of Samuel's own encouragement. If he refused him now, the fragile foundation of trust they had built might shatter completely.

Samuel looked at the boy sitting across from him. Julian's fists were balled at his sides, his knuckles white. He looked like a coiled spring, ready to bolt across the room, yet he remained anchored to the chair, waiting for a permission he didn't yet have.

A heavy flush stained Julian's cheeks—the physical evidence of his internal struggle. He looked so utterly vulnerable, as if Samuel could coax any emotion out of him with a single word. He could make him cry, make him laugh, draw out expressions that belonged to Samuel and Samuel alone.

Samuel closed his eyes, realizing he had drastically overestimated his own restraint. He held out a hand. "Come here".

Julian's eyes ignited. He covered the distance in a small, eager rush, but stopped short at Samuel's knees, his shoulders hunching with a sudden, awkward shyness. He didn't dare initiate the contact.

Samuel didn't wait. He caught Julian's wrist and yanked him forward. Julian landed hard on Samuel's lap.

The sudden contact with the iron-hard muscle of Samuel's thighs made Julian's heart skip a beat. Before he could process the sensation, Samuel's arms locked around him. Powerful arms crushed Julian to his chest.

Julian buried his face in the crook of the man's neck, inhaling sharply. He didn't just smell the sandalwood; he smelled the man beneath it—the intoxicating scent of heat and skin.

Vertigo washed over him. Julian felt like a sponge saturated with water—limp, heavy, and ready to dissolve into Samuel's hold. He closed his eyes and took a dragging breath.

The scent was a drug. Pressing his cheek against Samuel's neck, he let the radiating warmth of the man's body wrap around him. The rest of the world dissolved. In this tiny, airless space, there was only the thrum of a pulse, the rhythm of a breath, and a creeping, relentless heat from within.

Wait. Not this.

A hot current surged through Julian's frame, pooling low and heavy. He was sitting across Samuel's lap, thighs pressed to thighs, stomach to abs. Even their breathing had become a single, tangled thing. He tried to stifle the response, but the friction of the man beneath him was a catalyst.

Not here. Not now.

Julian went rigid, his legs clamping together in a reflex of pure shame. But the scent was a physical weight, and at this distance, he was a live wire.

The oversized hoodie hid the evidence, but his jeans were a vice, turning the embarrassment into a dull, throbbing ache. He felt a sudden, childish urge to cry; he wanted to pull away but couldn't bear to leave.

Samuel hadn't moved. He hadn't pulled back. Julian assumed the man was oblivious. He leaned in, emboldened by the silence. Unlike Julian's own frame, Samuel was pure steel. Brushing against him through their layers of clothing made Julian's muscles go weak, his breath turning sweet and ragged.

This was nothing like his usual "rewards." He was high on the proximity. Every touch of skin, every wisp of Samuel's breath against his neck, sent a tremor through his spine.

The sensory overload was a tidal wave. Julian realized he didn't even need his hands. He couldn't stop himself. He subtly shifted against Samuel's abs, inhaling the man's scent over and over. It happened faster than he could fight. Julian's body went taut, his fingers digging into the fabric of Samuel's blazer. He was losing it—

"Enough."

The voice was a low, jagged rasp. Samuel's hand clamped around the nape of Julian's neck. Julian was half-conscious, adrift in the haze. He tilted his head back instinctively, nuzzling Samuel's palm in a blind seeking motion.

"Julian. I said enough." Samuel gripped his shoulders and physically forced him away.

Julian's eyes snapped open. He saw the coldness in Samuel's expression and realized he had overstepped. "I-I'm sorry..." He let go, the loss of contact feeling like a physical wound.

Julian retreated to his seat, his head hanging low. He thinks I'm a freak. Samuel had been trying to help him, and Julian had treated him like a target for his own arousal.

Julian was drowning in mortification when Samuel spoke. "Physical reactions are biological phenomena," Samuel said, his tone as clinical as a market report.

"There is no need for guilt".

He had noticed. Julian wanted to disappear into the floorboards.

"Do you need to use the bathroom to... handle it?" Samuel asked.

Julian's head snapped up. He looked at Samuel in pure horror. "N-no! No!" The shock alone had killed the impulse.

"Don't... please don't say another word," Julian begged, his face a scorched, violent red. He buried his face in his hands.

"Can we just talk about business? Please."

"Very well," Samuel said. His expression turned like a wall of granite. Julian felt a chill of dread. "But before we start, there is one thing I must emphasize".

"What?"

"I cannot give you the things you're looking for".

Before Julian could process the weight of the moment, Samuel spoke again.

"I can help you move out of your family's shadow," Samuel said, his voice a low, level vibration.

"I'm sorry, Julian. I cannot offer you anything more. No further comfort. No intimacy."

Julian froze. The words hit him like a bucket of ice-water, dousing the tiny, secret spark of hope in his chest. embarrassment, sharp and hot, flooded his senses.

"It's fine," Julian rasped, forcing his features into a mask of indifference. He looked small against the vastness of the duplex.

"I... I wasn't looking for that anyway." He tried to project a need for comfort, that familiar, helpless look, but Samuel didn't budge.

Samuel watched him for a long, silent beat. "Good. Then we have an agreement." He sounded certain—whether he was convincing Julian or himself was unclear.