Adrian's world narrowed to the heat of Alexander's mouth, the bruising pressure of lips that demanded surrender. His hands, trapped between their bodies, unfurled instinctively, fingers curling into the crisp fabric of Alexander's shirt—not pushing away, but clutching, anchoring himself against the storm. A low, involuntary sound escaped his throat, muffled by the relentless kiss.
Alexander tasted like victory and ruin. His tongue swept in, claiming every inch, every gasp, as if he could erase months of deception with sheer possession. One hand cradled the back of Adrian's head, fingers threading through soft hair, tilting him for deeper access. The other slid down, gripping Adrian's hip with a force that would leave marks—marks Adrian suddenly craved.
