Page 200 of Ashen Torment

He places his hand on my face.

“W-what are you doing?” I mutter, my mind beginning to waver.

“Am I not permitted to touch you now?” His lips curve into a half-smile. “It didn’t seem... to displease you.”

I sigh, pulling back slightly.

“You are exasperating.”

“You can always leave,” he retorts in a slow, unsteady voice.

“I see no chains on your ankles.” He half-closes his eyes, his breath growing slower, thicker.

I move to turn away.

“Rest, Viscount.”

“You are leaving... again.”

I feel my breath stall within me, and something gives way. My steps freeze.

I cannot.

I take a step back.

The silence of the room envelops us, he has closed his eyes, his long black lashes trembling slightly.

I remain there, beside him, ready to offer him whatever he wants.

1. I want to shove my cock down his throat.

27

Swallow

Evander

Iwake with a jolt, as if invisible fingers were tearing at me from the inside.

My throat is parched, my tongue is heavy and sticky. My stomach twists, forcing me to hold my breath.

I close my eyes.

I want absolute darkness, but the world continues to spin around me.

Something cool and damp presses against my forehead. I barely open my eyes, the dim light of the room feels unreal, distorted, a scent of wet linen mingling with cedar and sweat. The bed jolts slightly, or perhaps it is just my stomach churning. The nausea is persistent, my mouth tastes of iron, and my temples throb.

I move my head with caution; the cold shifts, and then I recognize a cloth, still damp, placed upon my forehead with unsettling precision. There is another breath beside me, warm and rhythmic.

It should not be here.

I blink, but the vision remains uncertain. I do not know if it is a dream, or if reality is more cruel than the mind can bear.

I turn, cautiously, and Dorian is there, motionless, a part of the very darkness that envelops me. Asleep on his side, his mouth slightly parted, a lock of ivory hair brushing his cheekbone. His chest rises slowly, one hand is resting on his sternum, the other suspended on the edge of the sheet between us. My heart accelerates for no clear reason.

I search for a flaw, a point at which to break the vision, but I find none. The cold of the towel vanishes and the warmth of his skin remains. I stay silent, trying not to wake him, merely watching.

Too close. Too real.