Author's note: Hey everyone! I'm back just for a little bit to post the extended epilogue chapters that I failed to post when I first shared this story. From here onwards, the intention was to write more explicit chapters so we can finally enjoy more detailed smut. I usually post longer chapters, but for now, if you're still here reading Lucien and Sol's journey together, i'd love to hear some things you'd personally like to see in this parallel new world in which our characters have been reborn to. You never know if i might be able to incorporate it as i edit and finalize the latter extras for this extended epilogue. In any case, I hope you enjoy!
Meeting Anew
The soft jingle of the ice cream shop’s door faded behind them as Sol and Lucien settled into a booth by the window, sun spilling through the glass like golden syrup. Outside, the city carried on—ordinary and unaware—while inside, time hung suspended in the space between them.
Lucien took a slow bite of his strawberry cheesecake ice cream and sighed quietly at the taste. His shoulders, tense from the earlier psychic mishap, finally began to loosen.
“You were right,” he said, licking the spoon. “It’s dangerously good.”
Sol leaned back, eyes half-lidded. “Saved the world with that flavor once.” The joke came unbidden but somehow Sol felt a vague memory of truth from his words.
Lucien smiled, unsure if it was a joke or not. But it didn’t matter. He was sitting across from the very man he had spent years watching on screens and reading about in every news report. Sol Invictus, golden protector, god-touched metahuman, and now—real, close, and disturbingly easy to talk to.
“So,” Lucien said. “What’s it like… being a hero?”
Sol’s smile faded just slightly, replaced by something quieter. “It’s a lot,” he admitted. “Heavy, sometimes. Everyone expects you to be unshakable. But being worshipped doesn’t always mean being seen.”
Lucien tilted his head. “Do you like it?”
“I love saving people,” Sol said without hesitation. “But there’s a loneliness in always having to be the one who doesn’t need saving.”
Their eyes locked across the table. In that gaze, Lucien saw something—tired, sensual, longing. And Sol, for the first time, really looked back at Lucien.
He had called him kid earlier. A reflex. Eighteen to Sol’s twenty-five when he asked. But now, Sol noticed the way Lucien sat, shoulders square, his lean frame quietly athletic beneath his fitted black shirt. His face was striking—angular, intelligent, those silvery eyes shadowed with something older than his years.
Sol's gaze lingered longer than it should have.
“You ever thought of joining the Hero Association?” Sol asked, tone casual but low.
“I have,” Lucien said. “I’m registering for the psychic academy next week. I figured I’d start as a support hero—get real experience, learn how to better control my powers.”
“Support?” Sol echoed, brow raised. “You pulled me out of the sky and onto my knees, Lucien.”
The younger man flushed instantly. “That wasn’t intentional—I swear. I’ve never had that kind of strength before. It just… happened.”
“Because of me?”
Lucien hesitated. “Yeah,” he said honestly. “You’re… I’ve followed your career since your hero debut. Seeing you up close like that, it—it did something. It was like something woke up inside me.”
Sol went very still.
There was something in Lucien’s voice—uncertainty edged with an emerging confidence, like someone tasting power for the first time and liking it. There was no arrogance, just the quiet thrill of control. And Sol felt it again now, the same dangerous flutter in his chest as when Lucien’s psychic energy first wrapped around him, pulling him down, making him kneel.
It had felt good. Too good.
Sol’s mind wandered, unbidden. What would it feel like to give in to that power, not out of accident or instinct, but willfully? To want it?
The thought stirred something dark and sensual inside him—something he hadn’t dared put into words. He’d always been strong. Always stood above. But Lucien’s raw, accidental dominance had unlocked a door Sol didn’t know existed. And now it was open, just a crack, leaking heat.
“Lucien,” Sol said slowly, “I think you’re stronger than you realize. And maybe... that’s what makes you dangerous.”
Lucien blinked. “Dangerous?”
“To people like me.”
There was a heavy silence between them, broken only by the soft clink of a spoon against a paper cup. Lucien’s breath hitched faintly, but he didn’t look away.
“Do I scare you?” he asked.
Sol smiled, slow and laced with something dark. “Not yet.”
Lucien’s own smirk curled at the corner of his lips. Something flickered behind those silver eyes—hunger, confidence, and a taste for control.
It was brief, but unmistakable.
They sat in charged silence, the tension stretching between them like silk thread pulled taut. Around them, life continued. People passed by the window. Ice cream melted slowly in forgotten cups. And neither of them noticed.
Because in this moment, two souls touched across time and fate—and something ancient stirred.
Memories Bubbling Beneath
Lucien
The silence of Lucien’s apartment stretched thin around him. He lay on his side, staring at nothing in particular, his thoughts occupied not by the dim glow of the streetlights outside, but by a single presence—Sol Invictus.
The memory of their brief meeting still buzzed in Lucien’s mind. That fleeting contact, that locked gaze, that pull. Sol had called him powerful, had looked at him with interest. Not pity. Not fear. Interest.
It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t. It was intoxicating.
Lucien had dreamed of moments like this since he was sixteen—an unwanted child, hidden away, psychic powers muted for his parents' comfort. He used to imagine Sol Invictus as a faraway sun, impossible to reach. Now, for the first time, he felt something tilt in his favor. Something destined.
And in that shift, Lucien could feel it—his psychic abilities simmering beneath the surface, expanding.
Next time, he thought, a quiet smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, you won't leave so easily, Sol.
Sol
In his darkened penthouse, Sol Invictus twisted gently in his sleep, tangled in silken sheets as a dream took hold of him with startling force.
It began softly—Lucien's voice, low and certain, echoing in the vastness of Sol’s dreamscape. “You like this don’t you, Sol? My psychic power entangling all over your body.” Then came the feeling: pressure without contact. Invisible fingers dancing over his bare chest. They ghosted across his skin, honing in like instinct, teasing until they found their target—his nipples.
Sol arched.
A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the unseen hands pressed, circled, tugged. He felt his head fall back, mouth slackening as the pleasure deepened, slow and overwhelming. His breath hitched—sharp, then shallow. He moaned, helpless as his nipples were rolled and played with, delicate and deliberate.
“Look at you writhing helplessly at my psychic touch just as exactly how I trained your body to surrender for years. A good and pretty little whore just for me mold as I please.”
Lucien’s psychic hands didn’t need to bind his wrists. It only had to touch, and Sol—Sol gave. It began to strip Sol’s superhero attire, removing all form of modesty and revealing a weeping erect cock that also begged to be touched. However, rather than giving Sol’s cock the attention it craved, Lucien’s psychic energy began to penetrate Sol’s mind to give it one absolute command to infuse and engrave: pleasure.
Sol began to feel Lucien’s invasion to his very core. His own mental barriers folding from the sheer force of Lucien’s power. Despite being heavily trained by the best psychics in the Hero Association to prevent any mental influences enemies might attempt, his mental defenses was being crushed one by one. Each time those barriers folded, pleasure shot from his mind directly to his cock.
“It feels…so good. I can’t…stop it!” Sol’s mind wept. Sol’s body sung from the infused pleasure. He felt his eyes roll back in his head. The pleasure overwhelming. His body sought one thing: release. But even that was beyond him. He couldn’t believe there was a psychic this strong and this precise. Sol’s own orgasm was already under Lucien’s mercy, his hips bucking futilely against the air hoping desperately to cum.
The combination of the incessant mounting pleasure and the inability to release held Sol desperate in his own body. His knees buckled, falling in the dream to kneel. His cock, strained and leaking, pointed to the heavens ready to beg. His lips parted further, breath fogging into moans. His glazed eyes fluttered, pupils dilated wide with submission, and he could feel it—drool sliding from the corner of his mouth. “Please,” Sol began, ready to beg.
Sol shattered. He didn’t know exactly what he was begging for. All he knew was that the pleasure was too much.
In that moment, he remembered nothing—and felt everything.
And then, in the haze, came the voice again—Lucien’s voice, dark and warm like velvet.
“Come apart for me, Sol.”
And Sol did. Lucien’s psychic hands simultaneously began to touch and stroke Sol’s cock to milk him dry and to burn the sensation of release under his control into his skin. Sol could do nothing but cum repeatedly in orgasmic bliss.
Sol woke with a choked gasp, body arched, sweat sheening across his chest, breath ragged. His sheets were twisted, damp, and his thighs trembled from some unconscious exertion. His hand clutched at the sheets like a drowning man.
The dream—that dream—had felt too real. Too familiar. Too right
He sat there in the dark, struggling to breathe, his pulse pounding in his ears, his chest still aching from phantom pleasure.
What the hell was happening to him?
He didn’t know why he began to be so fixated with someone who he just met—but he whispered his desires to the silence anyway.
“Lucien…”
And across the city, far away and still wide awake, Lucien’s breath caught—his powers flaring the tiniest bit, like a whisper in his mind had just brushed his skin.
