Alexei picked Elijah up like a child and, in just a few long strides, threw him onto the bed.
The mattress dipped under Elijah's weight, cradling him into the softness that was so at odds with the darkness in those heavy blue eyes.
Elijah gulped.
Fear mingled with his heightened senses, leaving a heady mess of intoxication inside his core.
Alexei towered over him, his hands already curling around the white fabric.
The young master didn't have the patience to fumble with every delicate button. With a single tug, he directly tore it, yanking it away from Elijah.
"L-Lyosha," Elijah whispered, though he had no clue why he was calling the boy. "Lyosha..."
"Yes, baby. Call my name. Only my name." Alexei smiled so beautifully, as if those weren't his fingers digging at Elijah's pants, roughly tugging them down.
Soon, it joined the crumpled heap of a ripped shirt discarded on the floor.
Red had traveled from Elijah's cheeks to the tip of his curled toes.
