it’s hot. that’s the first and only thought that makes its way through his head. all others have been eradicated, their will weak withe very piece of clothing removed. it’s hot, so very hot, as bodies move to twine together, hands clawing, grasping, dragging against skin. red trails dot down his back ( he can’t see them, doesn’t need to. the way the other had pulled, had forced him closer, was all he needed ) and crescents litter shoulders, thighs. belatedly, the king realises he can taste copper, the tang not as unwanted as he had believed. he blames the heat. he blames reaver. ( he blames himself. )lips break away, air heavy as the pair of them pant, shame forgotten. there is heat pressing in from all angles, suffocating him and depriving him of the logic he so desperately needs. instead of pulling away, righting self as gathering clothing as he should, lips trail down jaw, neck, stopping to bite harshly at the skin there. anger colours his motives, his pent-up aggression making itself known in the way they’ve come to expect. this dance between them, this moment of seemingly peaceful compliance, is no more than a relief, a weakness. when haze is lifted and mind is right, logan will leave with nothing but a sneer. not at the other, not at what they had done, but at how he had allowed himself to fall prey again. ( and how he yearns for it, dreams of it. how the other’s hands feel so good across his body, his lips igniting a flame he hadn’t felt in so long )anger sated for the time being, the kisses now begin to scatter as he moves lower. he hears the noises the other man is making, hears his voice bend and break with every touch. he ignores it, too focused on the task at hand. lips press softly to collar, press gingerly to chest. rarely are they gentle in this, and while the king is a man who dares not argue with the tastes of his advisor, he is still a man of his own. there is no love here, ( this is not lovemaking ) but there is still an intimate quality for the crown. he refuses to let this be a game. if it were, he would have lost the moment he stepped foot in here.lips find themselves at thigh, teeth biting into the flesh there. this is where the primal instinct takes over, replacing gentle touch with one of harshness. he reveals in the chance to inflict pain to a man such as he, shoulder relaxing with each bite as the weight of the world leaves him as he succumbs to desire with a final, lingering kiss. ‘ never have i known a man who reacts quite the way you do. ‘
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