Arion obliged, his mouth continuing its downward journey, leaving a trail of fire behind it. Dean's breath hitched as Arion's tongue traced patterns across his chest, lingering over nipples that pebbled instantly at the contact with his wet tongue. Arion's vetiver pheromones were warm and earthy, mingling with Dean's own clean scent of mint and lemonade, and combined, they made a scent that was all their own.
"I've missed this," Dean murmured, his fingers carding through Arion's hair. "Just us."
"Me too," Arion said against his skin before taking one peaked bud into his mouth and sucking gently.
Dean's back bowed off the bed, a soft sigh escaping his lips. There was no struggle for control, no need to dominate the field and moment. It was a surrender of the sweetest kind, a gift freely given and thankfully received.
"Arion," he breathed.
Arion lifted his head, his golden eyes dark with want but soft with affection. "Right here."
