Their lips met. Firm. Unhesitating. A punctuation after hours of tension, of anticipation, of unspoken needs and whispered desires. Chris stiffened, surprised, but didn't pull away. The urgency was raw, desperate, unrelenting, and it scorched both of them in the quiet of the dressing room. His grip tightened around Chris's waist as if trying to anchor him, to make sure no one else could see, could touch, could imagine.
When they finally pulled back, foreheads resting together, breath hot and uneven, Sky's voice came low, harsh. "I won't... tell you not to… walk out there looking like this."
Chris blinked, dazed, steady, a teasing lilt creeping in. "Like what? Like myself?"
"Like temptation," Sky whispered, the word cracking, betraying the vulnerability he fought to keep in check. He swallowed hard, trying not to sound like the mess of jealousy and possessiveness rising in him. "You don't see it, do you? How people will look at you. What they'll think. What they'll want."
