Damian looked at him, unsure whether he wanted to laugh or scold, and in the end only snorted and pulled back the blanket. "Try sitting up."
Lucien wore nothing but a thin dress shirt, several sizes too big for him. It was one of the spare sets of clothes kept in Damian's rest room, and thanks to the difference in their builds, it could just barely cover him to mid-thigh. His own clothes were all ruined and couldn't be worn again, while Damian's trousers were much too long to fit him.
Lucien's current appearance was rather provocative: the tops of his thighs still bore suggestive red marks, and his clothes were in disarray. But he didn't much care, and let Damian's hand help him upright.
Sitting up, Lucien could manage. But when his feet touched the floor, he stayed standing for exactly one second before both knees went soft and his whole body pitched straight forward. If an arm hadn't shot out to catch him in time, he would probably have planted a very sincere kiss on the floor.
