"Can I cross over to you, Malcolm?"
Dahmer's voice was a low vibration that cut through the bright glare of the chandelier. He knelt on his knees a few feet away, his pale skin glistening with a thin sheen of heat sweat. The black cloth mask remained wrapped tightly around his face, keeping his identity as Luca Vane hidden, but his silver eyes were wide and completely uncovered, locking onto the King with a consuming, unhinged devotion. "Am I allowed to touch you now?"
Malcolm didn't reply. He couldn't force a single word past his lips. He sat against the headboard, his chest heaving as his own shaft throbbed painfully in his hand. His body was a chaotic mess of liquid fire, his hidden entrance pulsing with a thick, weeping moisture that begged for release. He merely kept his head turned slightly to the side, his jaw clenched, his silence hanging in the air.
Dahmer took the silence as an absolute yes.
