From the chair to the wall and then to the bed, Xion had lost count of how many times his body broke apart under pleasure.
The only thing that remained clear in his hazy mind was his desperate need to cling to Darius, to bury himself in his warmth until even breathing felt suffocating with his scent.
He needed something to anchor him, and only Darius' touch could keep him from drifting away.
So he held on. Through every thrust, every kiss, every shiver of overwhelming bliss, he held on.
And when the morning finally came, Xion felt as though he were floating in the air, weightless and untethered, carried only by the strength of Darius' arms around him.
The warm rays of sunlight slipped past the curtains, soft and golden as they brushed over the tangle of sheets.
Xion stirred slightly, his body aching in ways that reminded him of every place Darius had touched and kissed.
Good thing he had placed a barrier around the room, or his cries would have surely alerted the guards.
