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Bondage of Hearts (ThenThereWereNone & MoldaviteGreen)

Emil listened to the only thing that mattered: the deity above him, all dark and enigmatic. He listened to the subtle, quiet tells. Drank them deep as he had with all knowledge of his stranger and nestled it in against the wild beat of his heart.

The hitch of the man's inhale. The length that same breath was held and then released with a shake. How the man couldn't finish his words and how he cursed. The lean of the man's gorgeous body as Emil traced teeth and lips down over sculpted muscle in a path of pain. How his stranger's thick fingers were still curled into his hair so firmly that Emil's scalp was beginning to burn deliciously.

He was on his knees, having counted to ten and thanked the man above him for each. The cavity of his mouth was wet as Emil found it pooled with saliva. He craved more than muscle between his teeth. He craved more than just the taste of the man on the tip of his tongue. Truly, it wasn't a craving at all. It was a dizzying, logic-defying need that left Emil feeling like the world would fall from its spin if he didn't earn it.

The man's dark eyes were on the tilt of Emil's mouth, and it made that smirk twist into something, somehow, more wicked. Emil's own breath hitched as he felt the air wash free of the room. This tension between them was suffocating, and Emil gave himself to it so very freely. He pressed forward onto his knees until the leather harness groaned again.

Where his stranger's fingers fell to, Emil's arctic gaze followed. He watched them snap open the button. Observed the swell behind the leather that seemed impossibly thicker than before. Emil didn't realise that he licked his lips, but he found them wet when his eyes snapped up to meet the man's own upon the rumble of his stranger's voice.

"Yes." Breathless. A whisper. A prayer. Emil swallowed thickly, and shoved down that coiling discomfort of his position of submission. What spilt next from his mouth was purred with unadulterated need. "Yes, Sir."

Emil's head was already tipped back by the hand in his hair. He opened his mouth, slipped the flat of his tongue over his lower teeth and the pulp of his lower lip. And as much as he wished to observe the thick cock that was pulled free, Emil found himself unable to look away from those dark eyes.

He couldn't look away. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything but inhale the heady scent of the man's cock as his stranger smeared his pre over Emil's lips. It made him so fucking dizzy that Emil moved to catch himself with a hand upon his stranger's thigh. Emil, tipped forward despite the firm hand in his hair, found his nose pressed in under his stranger's tight sack.

"Fuck," he moaned.

Emil tried to right himself. He tried to push himself to sit back on his heels. But his stranger had become the only thing to hold gravity over him, and Emil found himself drawn in and unbalanced. Still, he opened his mouth, pressed the wet of his tongue against the underside of the root, and licked over dark, swollen flesh. His stranger's cock lay heavy over his cheek, against the backdrop of Emil's blooming, lust-induced blush.

He pressed his head back into that hand, strained his mouth wider and felt his saliva drool out across his tongue. Fuck my mouth. Let me taste you. I need you, so much. Yet, like a good man, Emil held his mouth open for his stranger's beautiful cock.
 
“Yes, Sir.”

Fire flared beneath Alexis’ skin, a molten coil of possessiveness that burned irrationally. It wasn’t fair what his stranger could do to him with just two needy syllables. The man’s submission freely given, but not easily. And it came as a heady sense of power that oozed on the precipice of madness to be gifted that level of trust. And Alexis wanted to share it with no one. He wanted to be the only one who witnessed this side of his stranger, his strength and vulnerability. He wanted to be the only one for whom his stranger kneeled. The only one the man warred himself into submission for. Hard fought but never truly won. It was nonsensical, fucking insane. A rhythmic ache that pulsed at the base of Alexis’ throat. Alexis was a moth to his stranger’s flame. The man’s eyes pools of liquid fire beneath ink-dark lashes. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to look away. And in that moment, he gave himself over to the fantasy that in that intimate space where only they two existed, his stranger was his. And would only ever be his.

And then his stranger tipped forward, the use of his arms to catch himself thwarted. A sharp expletive on that silver tongue of his. “In due time, Diablo.” Alexis laughed, low and just this side of breathless. He didn’t rush to help his stranger to reorient his centre of balance, whether he peered down as the other squirmed off balance. He eyed the play of light and shadow over burnished skin, the liquid grace of a predator constrained. He slowly stroked his turgid length, "Since you're so eager for cock, open that pretty little mouth for me,” he purred, his hand fisted in his stranger’s hair as the man squirmed to right himself before he presented his mouth, tongue outstretched as saliva trickled down the length of it. The drag of that muscle along the underside of his cock caused a pearlescent drop of pre-cum to bead up from the eyelet. Alexis hissed, his teeth pressing into the plush of his lower lip.

And when the man finally opened his mouth to him, so good and eager, Alexis gave them both what they wanted.

He fed the man his cock. Inch by agonisingly patient inch. Pleasure wrapped around him, seeped deep within the marrow of him: a living, breathing sensation that burned and soothed in equal measure as Alexis sank into the slick heat of his stranger’s willing mouth. “Ay, Dios,” he crooned, eyes fluttering shut as his nostrils flared and his breath came harsher.

The warm, encompassing heat of the man's mouth shot bolts of pleasure along the length of Alexis’ cock, an electric jolt right to his balls. He groaned out, easing forward until the fat head of his cock knudged against the back of his stranger's throat. The muscle pulsed and quivered around him, and he inhaled sharply, desire rippling through his stomach.

Needing to see, he opened his eyes, dark gaze observing with lecherous fascination as he withdrew his cock until his stranger’s lips were spread wide around only the tip of him. Nice and slow, Alexis eased forward once more. He didn’t push as deeply as in the first instance.

He lost himself to the slip and slide of watching his length disappear and reappear between the other man’s gorgeous pink and spit-slick lips. The way the man’s rose-dusted cheeks hollowed around him as he pressed forward again, and again. The texture of the man’s tongue against his aching shaft.

When he next slowly fucked into his stranger’s mouth, he pressed deeper still. Not stopping until his cock nudged against the man’s throat. The muscle contracted around him as it tried to dispel the intrusion, “Oh, fuck!” Alexis shuddered, his voice low and rough, “Just like that, baby.” He rolled his hips forward, the man’s throat quivering around him and milking his tip shot rivulets of electric ecstasy straight into his blood. “Just like that,” he sighed, one hand slipping free of silken curls to caress over lightly bristled cheek.
 
"In due time, Diablo." And Emil knew, then, that he was knelt not at the altar of some long-forgotten god, not some angel come earth-side, but the Devil himself.

The laughter that spilled from his stranger's mouth was silken, and whiskey-smooth. He left Emil to struggle with his centre of balance, the tip of his nose tucked tight beneath a hefty sack, Emil's mouth open and wanting and empty. A god would have taken him, as offered. The Devil, instead, toyed with him.

Eager, Emil was. There could be no denying the flush to his skin and the blow of his pupils. His mouth already lay open, and there was a furrow between the dark of his brows now.

The praise, purred, set a molten heat down through his own cock. Pretty and little were not words used to describe Emil. He was cold, he was calculating, he was, at best, classically handsome. Somehow, in this place, pretty and little sounded good. Because it came from him, Emil knew; his stranger. His obsession.

Emil wasn't made to wait much longer. The dark angel above him granted him his wish. The plush, fat tip pressed against parted lips to slide over lolled, pink tongue. The heat of him struck Emil first, then the weight of it. That gorgeous cock, so fat and full, as he was fed every inch of it. Emil could not help the moan that clung to the back of his throat.

Oh, God…

God. Devil. Emil couldn't make up his mind. But how could he when it span, dizzy with the scent of his stranger? Light-headed with the blooming flavour of him across his tongue? His own lashes fluttered to settle against his cheeks, and inhale taken through his nose as he felt the cock press deeper, still. There was still so much left. Still so much to go. Emil would take it all, even if he were to choke on it.

And what a strange thing that was. Emil rarely gifted men his mouth. Rarely gifted anyone his mouth, at all. Those subs he'd taken and sucked, had been a rare few. It had only ever been a tool. He'd only ever used his mouth to edge them, to bring them to the brink and then deny them of everything until their pathetic cocks sputtered out onto the floor or bed linen. Sucking cock had only ever been a means to an end.

Yet there he was, down on his knees, full of 'Yes, Sir's and 'Thank you, mio caro's, taking this man's cock back into his throat like he were a man starved. Emil was. Starved of this—the weight, the plunge, this twisting and enigmatic thing between them.

Arctic eyes snapped open as the thick of that cock touched the back of his throat, and Emil realised he'd starve for this forever. A Dom he was, before. A slut he was, now. All because he'd made a deal with the Devil, unable to refuse.

Emil sucked. He did not let his tongue lay stagnant. The satin of it swept over the head as his stranger withdrew, drawing out his lips with the slick friction. He dipped the point of his tongue into the slit, caught a bead of pre and swallowed it, eager. Eager, so very damn eager, and the leather of his bonds were groaning in attempt to contain it.

He'd been careful. He'd kept his lips over this teeth and his jaw held wide. The ache setting in was nice. Emil was done with playing nice. He let the next shallow thrust grind in against his molars, his incisors gently clipping the ridge of the tip. The hand in his hair had a plan for something different.

Emil was pulled forward, the cock seated deep in his throat. The gag that rose, convulsed and spasmed, could not be fought. It came once, twice, beginning to prickle pale eyes with a shimmer. A tear rolled down over a blushed cheek, and the most debauched thing of all was that Emil liked it. He'd stopped trying to make sense of it long ago.

He moaned, or tried to with how deep his throat was plugged. Still, Emil craved more. With the tilt of his head and the crane of his neck, he angled his chin upward under heavy, dark sack. There weren't any inches left for him to take, Emil's lips flush to the base. Still, that shift in angle had his stranger grinding; the slick satin of his cheeks tighten in his suckle, the smooth of his tongue pinned down by thick mass, his chin wet with the tear that had spilled and the spit that drooled.

Oh, you like that? Emil mused silently, watching the tension within his stranger's face. You like it when I gag on you?

Emil tilted back his head when he felt those thick fingers slip free of his hair. Given free rein, he drew the cock from his throat, let it nearly pull free, before he plunged deep. He'd suck this man from root to tip. He'd swallow every inch he could get. Emil wanted to, needed to, devour him.

The wet schlick of Emil's mouth echoed lightly. The mess of his chin was a stream, and he made no attempt to lick the spit from his chin. His tongue was busy, anyway; circling, fluttering, stroking over underside. The wet dripped onto his chin, but it wasn't what Emil wanted to have painting his skin.

He took his stranger deep once more and held himself firm. Forehead to abdomen, nose to pubis, Emil starved himself of breath and gagged. He coughed, began to choke, but held himself there still until he couldn't any longer. Emil drew himself up and off, took a gasp of air. He granted himself only a split second to lick his lips before he dove back down, ravenous.

Between his spread knees, Emil's pale cock twitched. It stood firm and aching and terribly neglected, weeping pre in steady drips down upon the floor. He'd never been one to leak, but he was, now, as his stranger swore, clutched him harder, called him 'baby', and fucked slowly into his mouth.

'Fuck', Emil had cursed. But oh, how terribly he wanted to fuck.
 
Between the skilled suction of his stranger's hollowed cheeks and the laving worship of his tongue, Alexis was drawn closer to that point of no return. But he held back, took it slow, breathed deep, let himself just feel. No rushing. No race to the finish. He wanted it to last, and so he languished in the slick, warm suction of his stranger's mouth working him with an eagerness that demanded attention.

And not unexpectedly, but perhaps much sooner than anticipated, his stranger showed his horns with a kiss of teeth against Alexis’ sensitive tip, which saw his fingers tightening in dark tresses as he pressed forward, fucking deeper into the man's mouth, invading his throat as the other gagged around him. Electric fire. His stranger’s jewelled eyes glittered with tears unshed. "There it is." Voice dark with a rising hunger, Alexis captured that single tear upon his thumb and drew the digit up to his mouth. He licked the salt from his skin. Shuddered and sighed as the man kneeling before him moaned, the vibrations catching and lighting sparks up and down his spine.

His stranger's mouth wasn't just for weaving silver threads to lure his unsuspecting victims close. No, the man worked the sort of magic that caused a man's reason to flee. Leaving one gasping to stay above the crashing wave of pleasure that sought to drown them beneath dark, syrupy waves. Alexis was not immune. But dogged stubbornness kept him from succumbing completely. Not yet.

Not yet.

Not with the sticky way his stomach clenched every time he focused his gaze upon his stranger’s tear-stained face, an unbroken rope of saliva dribbling from his occupied lips. The wet gagging grip of the man choking himself on Alexis’ sizable cock. His stranger was a picture of perfection. If one’s idea of perfection was a man who was in full control of himself, who moved through the world as if it were all his, who had taken to his knees, and made a debaucherous mess of himself. Bound like a sacrificial offering, face flushed and tear-stained, drool down his chin from a mouth stuffed full. No masks. Nothing concealed. Just magnetic vulnerability laid bare. A slave to desire.

He was perfect.

Watching the other choke himself upon the length of him, Alexis swallowed hard, reaching for words, "I'll admit,” Spoken as his stranger came up for air, “ I didn't expect you to be such a greedy little cock slut." Granted, there was nothing little about his stranger: not his size, nor his eagerness to suck cock. And were the man not bound as he was, they would be on much more equal footing. An insatiable thrill, dark and seductive, licked across his skin. Lightening coiled low, his stomach a pool of molten lava as his balls drew up tight. He was so close, he could taste it. With both hands, he buried his fingers into the other man’s hair and slid deep.

Pressing the other’s nose into the dark curls that nestled his cock, he held him there. In his head, Alexis counted: both as a way to centre himself and for the duration his stranger had held him deep before withdrawing to gulp down air. "That's right," he cooed, throaty with pleasure, "I know you can take it."

He reached the man's limit and pushed further, holding him there for an extra count of ten, before he eased off. Slowly. Not completely, his cock still stuffed full into the man's mouth, but his throat unobscured, to allow him to draw in whatever breath he could through his nose. He used his stranger's mouth then, like the man was so eager for. Used him for exactly the purpose he was kneeling before him. To be at the beck and pleasure of his deity.

The walls echoed with the wet slide of a mouth stuffed full with cock, the squelching gagging of a throat being fucked, muffled moans, and stuttered pants. “Mmh!” Alexis’ orgasm rushed upon him with the force of a tidal wave, and he had only time enough to tug his stranger's head back as he took his throbbing cock in hand and jerked himself. Hard and fast, the glide of his fist slick and smooth; electric spreading out from the base of his spine as his balls drew up tight. "Oh, ffuuucck!" Thighs quivering, veins standing taut along his neck, Alexis spilt over his fist, pearlescent ropes catching his stranger in the face: splattering across the high of a cheekbone to drool down towards the edge of his mouth, and a second and third painting his chin, and chest.

His chest heaving, breathless, and eyes unseeing, Alexis stroked himself through the aftershocks, milking the last drop that oozed down over his fist. As his vision cleared and his thoughts trickled back in, he huffed out a low laugh; awe and disbelief. "Shit! I haven't come that hard in I don't know how long."

Cum slid down over his index and middle fingers, which he pressed into his stranger’s mouth, "Lick them clean."
 
There it is. Emil was lit with wonder. He watched as the thick of a thumb rose from his cheek, glistening with a tear he hadn't entirely realised he'd shed. His eyes followed how that digit pressed beyond lips he wished to taste, to crush against his own, to have.

Emil, a mortal ensorcelled, sucked harder, tilted sharper, and drove himself down despite how his body fought to resist. Resistance was all a mere concept. There to be broken. Emil would see his own crumble, if it meant having the glory of this man.

Pretty little mouth. Baby. Greedy little cock slut. How easy those words shot through him like a bolt to make his own aching length throb. Pre bloomed from the slit, ran down over the blushed flesh to drool from frenulum. It dripped, a webbing from floor to ruddy-tipped cock; glistening between Emil's bulky legs like a testament to just how eager, how greedy, he truly was.

His gorgeous stranger was giving him everything, and it still did not feel like enough. The angel would not know the irony of it all, and how this was the first time it had been something other than a mere step in a process. It was Emil's little secret to keep.

So, with a wicked glint in the pale of his eyes, Emil's lips pulled over teeth, wet in his smirk. 'I didn't expect you to be such a greedy little cock slut.' "No?"

He didn't wait for an answer to dive back down. What good was air when he could have this? Emil would so very gladly starve himself of precious air if it meant bearing witness to his angel's bliss. If it meant feeling the rush of it, swallowing it. Because why did Emil crave the flood, the cling of it in the back of his throat and the residual salt of him across his tongue?

I'm insane, that's why. It was the only thing that made sense.

Emil was grateful for the man's rough hand. He was held down, speared by that delicious, fat cock, until tears steamed. The warm honey of his skin began to turn ruddy, his nostrils flaring, and it was another several seconds before he was let up for air but not made empty. Emil would have been panting. Instead, he drew in deep breaths through his nose; audible in the rush. The small crinkle at the corners of his eyes betrayed what would have been a smirk if his mouth was not full.

Fuck, he looks so good… Emil groaned, moved to reach for the bulk of a thigh. The harness held him in the cocoon of leather strappings, and he cursed his choice. Cursed this whole thing because all he wanted was to devour this man. To have him. But that was the point, wasn't it? To deny and deprive until one went crazy? Emil was already there, and he was straining harder against the harness that creaked and groaned. He settled for shuffling his knees closer.

Emil's mouth was wrenched free from his stranger's cock, and he coughed. The wet that clung to hardened flesh was drawn to his lips in a string. That shimmering webbing was broken with the beat of a quick fist, and Emil only had a split second to look up from the glorious thick of it to his angel's face.

He was beautiful. He was glorious. He was utterly magnificent as he stroked himself and came, ropes of his seed painting Emil's cheek and chin and coming in shorter shots over his chest. The cream of it lay in the harness, and Emil knew, then, that it was coming home with him. Something tangible to prove that his angel had been real.

"Mio Dio, amore mio," Emil exhaled. He swept his tongue over the seam of his mouth, collecting his stranger's cum. Emil savoured the taste of it, warm sea salt. He swallowed it, and frowned upward a little at the denial of having his mouth flooded full. At it being wasted. Emil licked his lips before tipping forward. He ran his tongue along the underside of that cock, lapping up the clinging remnants.

Smirking against hot flesh, Emil said with silk; "The hardest you've come in some time, and yet you denied me the pleasure of being flooded with it." Emil sat back on his heels, still so very close. The glimmer in his arctic eyes was one of mischief. "How very cruel of you, mio caro. Is denial your tool of preference? Did I play right into your hand?"

The fingers pressed to his lips were welcomed, greedily. That same satin tongue ravished them. Curled between knuckles, swept over sensitive pads. They were licked clean and sucked deep, released with a wet suction. Emil, cum sliding down his cheek from the warmth of his blush, took an unsteady breath.

"Will you feed the rest to me, please? You came so nice and hard for me, wouldn't it be a waste if you don't?" A dare. A teasing test of dominance. Emil was still every bit the predator, his hunger had only temporarily shifted. Cold eyes were an insatiable fire. "I want you."
 
For as much as Alexis used his cock to silence his stranger, the man spoke plenty with his eyes. That pale gaze glittering with unvoiced laughter.

His stranger was breathtaking. Utterly wrecked and the very antithesis of polished and put together. That pink tongue of his greedily licking at his mouth, his dark brow furrowing with the realisation of what he was denied. His displeasure, he made known, pale gaze alight with devilish mischief. "We can't always get what we want, Diablo." Alexis hissed at the drag of the man’s tongue against his sensitive flesh, and he rocked back lightly.

“This is the second instance you’ve called me cruel." He laughed, low and breathless as he tucked himself away, zipping up his pants though he left the button undone. “Who’d I be if I didn’t live up to the expectation?” And how cruel he could be when the name of the game was ‘denial’. How very cruel. If only his stranger knew.

And he would know. It was a secret not meant to be hidden. One that would lay itself bare at the absolute worst moment. For maximum effect, of course.

Warmth licked seductively at the base of Alexis' spine as his fingers were taken into his stranger’s mouth and suckled clean with an enthusiasm that threatened to swell his cock anew. His fingers were released with a wet pop, the man a high, ruddy complexion as he breathed.

What could have been mistaken for a deferential request quickly showed its true colours. Alexis' eyes narrowed, dark and simmering. His hunger had only been momentarily sated, never fully satisfied. And his stranger needled with his words, even now seeking to assert his dominance. Cunning as a snake. Patient as a panther stalking prey. Eyes cold and hungry.

"I want you."

Alexis gazed down at the beautifully ruined man before him and suppressed a full-body shiver. He’d never admit how those three words crawled beneath his skin and took up roots. A twin flame of wanting that no amount of water could snuff out. Whatever this dark spark was between them was a starving, demented thing. And he would have it no other way.

Wordlessly, he lowered himself down on the balls of his feet, his hand cupping the side of his stranger’s neck, thumb pushing beneath his jaw, tilting his head back. Dark eyes unwavering against pale gaze, he leaned in and licked at the man's skin. The rough drag of the other's five o'clock shadow tickling his tongue as he licked the man’s chin clean of his spilt seed, tasting salt, and musk, and sweat. He swallowed, licking at his lips as his fingers slid round to scratch lightly at the nape of the man’s neck, pushing firmly, tipping his face closer. Again, Alexis’ licked along the corner of his stranger’s mouth, smearing up over bristled cheek to lap up the cum sliding down blush-kissed skin. He didn’t swallow it, though, only held it upon his tongue as he leaned in.

Slow, unhurried, Alexis brushed his lips against his stranger’s plush tiers, pressing firmly. There, he lingered. Nostrils flaring as he breathed in the other, he pressed closer. Harder. A moan rumbled through his chest. And he opened his mouth; just enough to slip past his stranger’s lips. Feeding the man the cum still held upon his tongue, the wet muscle of which he curled into the warm wet cavern of his stranger’s mouth.
 
Denial.

Why the fuck did I choose denial?

It had seemed wicked in the moment. It had seemed like a play for what his beautiful, godly stranger craved and like something that would draw them closer. Perhaps, in a way, that still remained true, but Emily groaned and closed his eyes as his deity spoke of not granting him what he wished. Denial, indeed. And it was sealed like a promise in the sound of a zipper, dark cock tucked away; stolen back.

Arctic eyes snapped open, narrowed. I want you. I want you so terribly that it's making me sick. Isn't it obvious that I don't give this to people? Isn't it obvious that this is only for you? Of course it was. Emil believed that his stranger knew that. For Emil, himself, understood the beauty of watching the sure, the stalwart, the strong crumble into something entirely else. And now it's happening to me… How wicked his God was.

The laugh that tumbled from Emil then was low. "Gag me," he groaned again as he tried to lean forward into the man's heat but was denied by the hand in his hair. "Maybe then I won't say something that will inspire you to be wicked."

Emil's breath hitched as his stranger began to lower. Yes. He nearly whimpered. Come close. Come to me. Let me have your mouth if you will not let me have your cock. Give me the taste of you.

The sharp of his chin tilted higher as a thumb pressed beneath, Emil baring his throat will all the willingness of a docile, tamed creature. He bent beneath his deity's want, held his breath as the man tilted closer. Emil could do nothing but stare, forgetting to breathe, as he felt the warm slick of a tongue drag up over his cheek.

Emil's exhale came terribly shaky from between parted lips. "Oh, god~"

And he meant the man before him, carved from ebony, licking his skin clean from the cum he'd spilt over Emil's cheek. He'd marked him. He'd marked Emil's face with his seed, and the brunette had revelled in it. As his stranger licked the corner of Emil's mouth, he groaned long and low with the restraint to not turn his face and steal a kiss. Emil hoped that there would still be the stain of him lingering in his pores, on his cheek and in his beard. He wanted his stranger to keep there.

"Please, my l—"

Emil's beg was swallowed by a kiss. Unhurried and almost tender, his lips were stolen and pried apart by tongue. Emil, ever hungry, opened his mouth and pressed closer; seeking the flavour of the man's tongue and the shape of his teeth. His stranger, his Devil and desire, fed him what Emil had been neglected. The salt of his stranger's cum spilled over Emil's tongue, and he washed it up over the roof of his mouth. Swallowed it, pressed his tongue forward in the hopes of more.

Between the thick of his spread thighs, his God knelt between them, Emil's cock throbbed. It pulsed, bobbing twice, and the drool of his pre became a web between the floor and the flushed tip. Emil had never been one to weep. His cock had never been one to leak and to drool. He, himself, had never been one to become impatient and desperate. Needy.

But Emil chased that kiss, and the taste of his stranger's seed. His tongue swept forward and ran between teeth, dragging anything that was left back into the warm cavern of his own mouth to be savoured and swallowed. He was glad, then, that his stranger hadn't hilted himself deep and pumped his load down into his belly. At least like this, Emil could taste him entirely—the salt of his spend, the sweat from their skin, the remnants of liquor on his stranger's lush tongue.

Emil pulled away. Denial was the game, but this was now merely torture. "You torture me," he murmured as he dipped his head into the crook of the man's neck. His wet lips skimmed over pulse, and he grazed his teeth over the muscle of a broad shoulder. "I need you so terribly that I'm afraid that I'm sick with it." The slow draw of a nose over collarbone, Emil unashamed in how he breathed his stranger's scent deeply. "I'm ill with you. I might die of it." Emil wanted it no other way.
 
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