Fal shivered as Kiyen’s grip on his hair gently forced his look up.

“Don’t ever lose trust in touching me,” Kiyen breathed against his throat, the gentleness in his voice throwing Fal’s world upside down with how… intimate it played his breath against his skin.

Dangerous. Kiyen played so bloody dangerously in that moment. Ink whispered over Fal’s body, rushing around his hips, up his abs, his chest—sweeping briefly over his neck as some unseen door opened up.

“No.” Fal tried to push Kiyen off, warn him. But Kiyen came in, a rough nip at his throat, then a lean in and soft whisper came against his skin….

“Easy.”

Fal shivered, the echo of the same whispered word off Kiyen swimming out of focus in his head over the when, the where. But the ink changed direction, chasing Kiyen’s whisper, almost… almost playing reversal, running like spilled water back to the sensual soul it had been allowed to spill from.

Fuck.

Kiyen pulled back for a moment, a slight tilt to his head as he watched the ink’s play, then he cocked such a gorgeous smile. He saw what Fal did in that moment, what they’d missed the last time Kiyen had whispered… easy.

The ink, it heard Kiyen. Damn its soul, it listened.

“Well look at that,” Kiyen said gently. He kissed where the ink roamed—then another whisper came, just so bloody gentle on Fal’s throat of… “here.” It sent a shiver down to Fal’s soul.

Damn its moody ass, the ink again chased the lips that played so close to Fal’s throat, chased the whisper that teased yet denied its existence on the same exhale that demanded it come… here.

Fal groaned. Kiyen’s ink was still blocked in him, but the part of his ink that roamed under Fal’s skin…?

When Kiyen whispered, the ink ran like a love-sick puppy to catch every word its master spoke.

A discreet slip of clasp came at Fal’s jeans, then Kiyen’s kiss stole Fal’s again as he freed Fal’s cock. Part of Fal cried no, fear rising so hard, so fast, but….

“Shush, shush-shush,” whispered Kiyen. Only it wasn’t to Fal.

He took hold of Fal’s wrists, bringing them above his head, holding him there. Then a whisper brushed his throat, and as the softest, longest exhale played the left side of Fal’s body—the ink replied, chasing Kiyen’s breath, shifting down Fal’s neck, racing around his hips, almost coming full circle before sweeping through Fal’s pubes, up over his cock….

“Christ.” Caught in the heat for the first time in months, Kiyen freed himself, and cock on cock, the ink shifted, coating them both.