Darius moved to the bed, his gaze fixed on the beauty sprawled across it, inviting him closer.
Oh, he was going to accept it all. Whatever Xion gave him — be it the agonizing lust or the overflowing gentleness — Darius would soak it in, drink from it until he was utterly consumed.
Xion rolled onto his back, patting the empty space beside him with a gentle smile.
You are the Sovereign of the North, Darius chided himself. You shouldn't be so crude.
But he was.
He was more than just crude. He was ravenous.
The sheets dipped under his weight as Darius copied Xion and lay on his back. His body was tense, rigid with restraint as if even a single touch would snap the fragile thread of his control.
He stared up at the ceiling, inhaling deeply, fingers flexing against the cool fabric beneath him.
"Come here," Xion whispered. "Come here, Darius."
The same words when spoken by Xion had entirely different effects.
