The drive back to his loft seemed like the longest in his life. It was hard to focus dazed, dizzy eyes straight ahead instead of the living art piece next to him. And when they left the car, Rhys made the first move and pressed him against his car door, claiming his lips the way Julian claimed him.
There was an entire storm raging inside his stomach. He was too warm, aching, tasting and touching wherever he can but it wasn't enough. He needed more of this man, always more.
This — This was it. This was what he was looking for. This color, this brightness, heart fit to burst, overwhelmed and needy at the same time. Julian was free falling into love.
As wonderful as kissing was, his cold, dead blood reacted poorly to the winter chill and he was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. He parted with some reluctance, breath so taken away he couldn't even form sentences, instead, gestured vaguely to stop before half-limping to his door and unlocking it with trembling fingers. As soon as he flicked the dim lights of the living room on, Julian pushed Rhys onto the couch, unzipping the back of his dress as he climbed on top of him.
It was just them now, in private, making love in the dark. The night was theirs. Why rush? As much as he enjoyed urgency, he wanted to take his time to explore his beloved's body, kiss every one of his freckles he could see. He met his lips again, slow but burning, hands unbuttoning his shirt with ease. Their hips met in a slow grind as Julian grazed his teeth against the soft skin of Rhys' neck, resisting the urge to feed, leaving marks instead.
"Now, think me crude," he started, voice low and shaky. "But I want you to fuck me."
There was an entire storm raging inside his stomach. He was too warm, aching, tasting and touching wherever he can but it wasn't enough. He needed more of this man, always more.
This — This was it. This was what he was looking for. This color, this brightness, heart fit to burst, overwhelmed and needy at the same time. Julian was free falling into love.
As wonderful as kissing was, his cold, dead blood reacted poorly to the winter chill and he was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. He parted with some reluctance, breath so taken away he couldn't even form sentences, instead, gestured vaguely to stop before half-limping to his door and unlocking it with trembling fingers. As soon as he flicked the dim lights of the living room on, Julian pushed Rhys onto the couch, unzipping the back of his dress as he climbed on top of him.
It was just them now, in private, making love in the dark. The night was theirs. Why rush? As much as he enjoyed urgency, he wanted to take his time to explore his beloved's body, kiss every one of his freckles he could see. He met his lips again, slow but burning, hands unbuttoning his shirt with ease. Their hips met in a slow grind as Julian grazed his teeth against the soft skin of Rhys' neck, resisting the urge to feed, leaving marks instead.
"Now, think me crude," he started, voice low and shaky. "But I want you to fuck me."