Cherion didn't blink.
It was a strange sort of defiance, really, the kind that usually gets people into a lot of trouble in stories, yet here he was, locked into a gaze that felt like staring directly into the heart of a dying star. Those crimson eyes were swirling, dark and deep, but Cherion found a sudden stubbornness anchoring his boots to the rug. He didn't know why his heart was attempting to drum its way out of his chest, nor did he quite understand the magnetic pull between them, but he refused to be the first one to look away.
His fingers remained miraculously steady as he continued to massage Zarius's temples. He could feel the Duke's large, gloved hand still curved around the nape of his neck, a heavy weight that was both a threat and a tether. The position was ridiculous. They were practically upside down and breathing into each other, everything tilted and disoriented. But Cherion didn't pull away. He leaned into it.
