Noel's back pressed hard against the polished black surface of the piano. The keys beneath him gave a soft, discordant groan as his weight shifted. Arthur's gloved hand stayed firm around his throat... controlling. The leather felt cool and smooth against Noel's flushed skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Arthur's body.
Noel stared up into steel-blue eyes that had gone almost black with something dangerous.
He tried to swallow, but Arthur's thumb rested right over his Adam's apple.
"You didn't answer," Arthur said quietly. His voice was low, like he was discussing the weather instead of holding someone by the neck. "Who left these marks on you?"
Noel's pulse hammered under Arthur's grip.
In his head, his mental thoughts screamed.
'This motherfucker is actually doing this. He's got his hand on my throat like some possessive yandere CEO in a dark romance novel. Is this allowed? Am I supposed to be turned on or terrified? Both? Fuck! Maybe both.'
