Lucas's breath hitched, jaw tight, but the sound that escaped him was closer to a shiver than defiance. His scent pulsed soft and sharp around them, honey-laced and faintly citrus, laced with the friction of resistance he didn't truly mean.
Trevor's mouth curled into something lazy and victorious. He dragged his lips lower, grazing the edge of Lucas's jaw, then lower still to the pulse fluttering just beneath his skin. He felt it stutter, quicken, and betray every ounce of control Lucas tried to cling to.
"I could ruin you like this," Trevor whispered, voice velvet-dark. "Pinned beneath me, panting, flushed, trying so hard to pretend you're still in charge."
Lucas made a strangled sound, part growl, part gasp, arched toward the pressure, thighs shifting just enough to betray the tension winding tight through his core.
"Stop talking," he hissed.
Trevor only smiled wider, that dangerous, indulgent smile that meant he would absolutely not be stopping. "You love it when I talk."
