I primarily write mlm, with my most prolific work being in the Hogwarts Legacy fandom (Sebastian Sallow/Male OC). As of February 2026, I am also deeply entrenched in the Heated Rivalry fandom, with my primary hyper-fixation being Scott Hunter/Kip Grady. I have also written fics for Andor, Arcane, Avatar, Harry Potter: Quidditch Champions, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story, Rogue One, The Cerulean Chronicles, The Charioteer, and Yield Under Great Persuasion.
Check out my writing on [AO3] and [Wattpad].
My COMPLETE (as of 13th January 2026) Sebastian Sallow POV Hogwarts Legacy series is called Like Moths to a Flame (Or, the Redemption Arc of Sebastian Sallow). The full series, which follows Sebastian from the events of HL up to his mid-fifties, is first and foremost a character study, but it has a little bit of something for everyone (romance; mystery; the supernatural; family drama; you name it, it's probably there. 😅)
Relevant Fandom Specific Tags:
Hogwarts Legacy: #damien evans #like moths to a flame series #sebastian sallow x damien evans #sebastien #like moths to a flame #burning bright #you cannot put a fire out #and time a maniac scattering dust
Heated Rivalry: #sympathy magic #scott x kip + link to a list of my Skip fics
Relevant General Tags: #Corinnewrites #Corinne learns how to draw #Corinne learns digital art #personal #asks #tag game
More after the cut:
For Spotify playlists for most installments of my Sebastian Sallow series (roughly 1-3 songs per chapter) and links to my other social media accounts, check out my Linktree.
I've been teaching myself how to draw since August 2024. If you want to follow along on my journey, everything is tagged under #Corinne learns how to draw (traditional sketches) and #Corinne learns digital art (digital art). You can also find more of my drawings under #Hogtober2025 and #Hogtober2024.
I've also participated in the following Hogwarts Legacy Tumblr events, where you can find out more about my boy, Damien (#MCtober2025 #MCtober2024), and read more of my AU works (#AUtober2025).
Synopsis: For Scott Hunter-Grady, navigating his new life as an out omega in Major League Hockey has proven to be slightly complicated. Not that his husband, Kip, has it any better, since he, too, has had to adapt to juggling grad school and parenthood, all while married to a celebrity professional hockey player.
But Scott and Kip have overcome much worse, and they are so totally making it work, until…
Post the first sentence of your latest 10 fanfics, then tag 10 people. Thanks for the tag, @trekchik!!! 😘
The Great Divide Liars, the whole fucking lot of them.
Hero Nowadays, it was unusual for Scott to go to bed past midnight.
A Matter of Loyalty Damien spent most nights pacing the length of the castle parapet, his thoughts circling around Sebastian.
Second Life Scott's smile lit up his face.
Blue Skies and Sunshine (Guaranteed) Scott knew two things before he even closed the bright blue front door of their Greenwich Village townhouse behind him.
Keep Calm and Carry On The elevator at The Ritz-Carlton, Los Angeles always performed its duties with great aplomb.
Through the Looking Glass (a collab with trekchik!) Kip saw him through the window darkly.
Monopoly "The trick is to buy every property you land on. Don't hold back," Kip said.
Sympathy Magic Everyone and their mother knew the New York Admirals were an all-alpha team.
Trust Fall Kip Grady was passably competent at a lot of things.
Ehehe; this was fun. Tagging anyone who wants to play! Seriously. Go ham, y'all.
Thanks for the tag @shanaraharlyah! Sorry for the repost. I didn't realize how long the other post was until after I reblogged it (LOL). Here's the OG thread, for anyone curious. I can't wait to see (and read!) your finished piece! P.S. I actually kind of like the belt??? But you know your characters better than me, so go with your gut, my friend. <3
Here's an excerpt from the next chapter of "The Great Divide" (my Hollanov and Troy/Harris long fic), which I'm hoping to finish by the end of this week. Wish me luck? 😅
//
"Wow," Scott said. "You really needed to pee."
Shane was too busy cursing and shaking his dick surreptitiously to acknowledge Scott's blunt but astute observation.
Dried off, dick tucked back in, cheeks having cooled down very slightly, Shane finally dredged up the resolve to answer Scott's question.
But first, he needed to make sure Scott was trustworthy. To a certain degree. Full and total trust was not something Shane gave lightly. After all, he hadn't even fully given it to Ilya. Yet.
"You were with your husband a long time before coming out," Shane said.
Scott blinked. "You're not wrong," he replied, frowning, a question in his eyes, even though he didn't voice it aloud.
"I just need to know—" Shane sighed, stared at the floor, then glanced back up. "I need to know something."
"Oh." Scott paused. "A secret, I'm assuming?"
Jesus Christ, was Scott Hunter actually smart? God. Shane really had convinced himself that Scott was one of those handsome nice guys with a totally empty head. He'd never outwardly admitted such a thing, figuring that Ilya had it covered with all of his age jokes, but Shane had always secretly thought so. It was a shock to have that illusion shattered in a mere blink of the eye.
//
NP tagging: @trekchik @gothic-lottie @leawshum and anyone else who cares to join in. <3
"Perhaps everybody has a garden of Eden, I don't know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. … Heroes are rare."
- Excerpt from Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin
//
Nowadays, it was unusual for Scott to go to bed past midnight. Tonight was the glaring exception.
Scott hadn't told Kip. Not for nefarious reasons. No, Scott simply hadn't thought it necessary.
Kip staying up with Scott wasn't something Kip should have to endure, even though Scott knew Kip would likely disagree.
But Scott loved Kip, and Kip needed his beauty sleep before the chaos that was grading grad student papers before the Thanksgiving holiday, and anyway, Scott didn't think it was that big of a deal.
Definitely nothing worthy of forcing his long-suffering husband to stay awake until some ungodly hour with him. Not on a weeknight, at least.
Hence, the here and now: Scott taking steady breaths as Kip, drooling into his pillow, slumbered beside him; Scott, bleary-eyed and blinking at the neon green numbers displaying the time from the digital clock resting on his bedside table; Scott, counting down the minutes until midnight, counting down until he would officially be older than his mother and father ever were.
Cal was no longer bored. So that was great. Silas seemed just as entertained, so that was great too. Even the ladies seemed to be enjoying themselves, which was quite something, mostly because Jo and Val hadn't stopped gossiping for this long in each other's vicinity since Cal could last remember, and Cal had a fantastic memory. Obviously.
So, success all around.
Prince Damien, with Sebastian's mumbled assent, was now filling everyone in on the plan as Prince Ale rubbed at his chin, deep in thought, and Duke Killian stared at his feet, also thinking hard, or so Cal presumed.
It wasn't much of a plan, unfortunately, as clever as the prince usually was, but at least there was a plan, even if it mostly amounted to Do whatever you must to keep Sebastian safe, followed by, I will pardon any and all potentialities, up to and including murder.
Which, hm. Slightly concerning? Sure. But surprising? Not exactly. In fact, it made a certain sort of sense. Perhaps not before, but now? Yes. And a resounding yes at that.
Prince Damien had just barely finished speaking when a low rumbling sound emerged from somewhere beneath Cal's feet.
No one else seemed to notice, so Cal coughed into his hand.
… It didn't work.
He coughed again.
Prince Damien came to rapt attention first, only to immediately get distracted by Princess Matty. "We all know there's a slim chance any plan will work," she said, "but we have to at least try."
The entire group of them burst into scattered conversation, completely drowning out the sound, which still hadn't stopped.
Damn. Cal was going to have to say something, wasn't he? So, he did. "Everyone, shut up!"
Everyone, finally, shut the hell up.
A bunch of eyeballs blinked up at him, some wider than others. Notably, Prince Damien had narrowed his, and Sebastian wasn't looking at all because he was still curled in on himself in the corner of the stables, his head in his hands.
Sebastian was likely listening though. Likely being the key word. Because for all Cal knew Sebastian had passed out from blood loss. Cal had noticed earlier Sebastian had a wound at his side, and that the dressing was seeping blood.
Was Cal going to say anything though?
Hah! Hardly. Sebastian had apparently gotten himself into this mess, and anyway, Cal didn't really like Sebastian.
It was a pity that Prince Damien was so besotted. Cal sincerely hoped that Damien didn't plan on marrying the moron. Cal couldn't fathom even potentially having to pledge his allegiance to Prince Consort Sebastian Sallow. The mere thought of it made him shudder.
Oh. Everyone was still waiting for Cal to say something. Oops.
"Erm," Cal began. "Does anyone else hear that?"
Unfortunately, Cal's question was a bit tardy because now he didn't hear the low rumbling sound he'd heard earlier at all. In fact, the stables were quieter than ever. Not even the squeak of a mouse or the rustle of a very large spider.
Cal nearly made an uncharacteristic apology when the floorboards beneath his feet shook. He leapt off the offending spot, only to immediately crouch down and peer through the slats, which he only now realized glowed… orange.
"Is there a hidden room here?" he whispered as Prince Damien sank to the floor beside him, the floorboards creaking under the additional weight.
"Not that I'm aware of," Prince Damien said. "But we ought to investigate."
So, investigating was what they set out to do. Together, every last one of them, and all at once.
Or, they would have if another shout hadn't halted Cal's and Damien's attempts to pry the floorboards up.
"HALT IN THE NAME OF THE KING!"
"Fuck!" Sebastian exclaimed, scrambling up as fast as he could in his injured state, Damien bounding up from the floor beside Cal and racing to Sebastian's side.
Ah. So Sebastian hadn't passed out after all. Cal wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, although he was leaning on bad. Very bad. Possibly very, very bad.
Sebastian and Damien whipped out daggers they'd both, apparently, hidden in their boots.
Oh yes, very, very bad was, indeed, correct.
No one could say Cal didn't have excellent instincts.
//
"Your Majesty?" one of the royal guards stuttered. A new one, since Damien couldn't quite place his name or title.
Well, whatever the insufferable guard's name was, Damien did not back down, even though he very much wished this were not happening right now, mostly because he'd never held anything against any of the royal guards until this very moment. A moment that made Damien's breath catch as he was of a mind that they were now a threat to everything he held dear.
Damien was correct.
"Prince Damien," a very familiar guard—standing to the unidentified one's immediate left—said, far too cheerily for comfort. But this was Sir Garreth, so it was expected. "In the name of your father, please remove yourself from the presence of the criminal."
Damien didn't even breathe. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Sebastian.
"Garreth," Sebastian said, still brandishing his dagger in front of him, "let's be reasonable now."
Garreth guffawed so loudly that his unruly shock of bright red hair shook with the reverberation. Once he managed to regain control of his faculties, Garreth drawled, "Says the murderer." He finished with a final gasping laugh. A pity that he was so well trained he didn't ease from his fighting stance for even half a second.
Damien, dagger also out and at the ready, took a giant step forward. "I command you to let us pass," he said, placing as much gravity in his tone as he could possibly manage. He was surprised at how easily it came, and at how forcefully it emerged from his mouth.
Sebastian glanced sideways at Damien, his eyes widening an iota, but then he gave his head a slight shake, and adjusted his stance as he rolled his shoulders back.
"I cannot acquiesce to that request, Your Majesty," Garreth replied, still far too breezily for Damien's comfort. Wasn't Garreth afraid? Did nothing make him flinch? "Your father has made that very clear."
Damien locked eyes with Sebastian and nodded, a brief flick of the head. Sebastian frowned, but nodded in return. Then, faster than a marksman could spot a fox and shout "Tally-ho!" Damien and Sebastian rushed Sir Garreth amid shouts—their own, as well as the shocked cries of their friends milling behind them.
It was a quick skirmish, over before Damien could quite process it, even with Sebastian's injury holding him back. To be fair, Damien and Sebastian, both trained from an early age by the best knights in the kingdom, made a formidable duo, and Sir Garreth had only brought two fellow companions to confront them.
Or so Damien had thought.
Matty yelled "Watch out!" as an arrow swooped past Damien's field of vision. Sebastian staggered back just in time to narrowly escape an arrow to the neck. It did slice his cheek though. He grimaced, slapping his free hand to his face, but not uttering a word. Not even a hint of a sound fell from his lips, which verified Damien's suspicion that Sebastian was running on pure adrenaline.
Garreth grinned, all teeth, from his new position on the floor beside his two fellow guards, their hands bound behind their backs with some fraying rope that a contrite Jaimsen had found laying on the ground. A far less contrite Tori had done the honors of binding them.
"Did you really think it would only be us?" Garreth said, bursting into another fit of laughter.
With his free hand, Damien swiped away at a sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead, then said, "Of course not," swiveling around to lock eyes with Matty and his friends, hoping that at least one of them could detect his panic and provide some sort of reassurance that someone else beside himself had a plan.
A better plan, as you will.
Everyone blinked back, remaining perfectly still and silent, except for Jo, whose face went white as a sheet. She blinked once, then wilted like a dying flower onto the straw-dusted floorboards. It happened so quickly that not even Val could intercept her fall. Jo would likely find bruises upon waking.
Well, so much for that. Help was clearly not in the cards.
"Damien," Matty said, an atypical cautious lilt in her voice, "we may need to let them go." Her jaw clenched as she tilted her head up and out, a not-so-subtle gesture at the window.
Damien's stomach dropped as he followed the movement, only to find dozens of knights converging on the stables. Father had apparently sent his best, and then some, including the Commander of his royal guard.
She stomped forward, barreling through the crowd. Damien braced himself for a stern chastisement.
"Prince Damien," Commander Weasley—also Garreth's aunt—bellowed, "stand down." As she burst through the throng, she raised her hand, gesturing for the archers to lower their bows and arrows.
The king's guard was a well-trained regiment. They all did as commanded, which was excellent for Damien.
Why? Because it provided a perfect distraction. And Damien did not stand down.
He released a primal yell as he dashed forward, placing himself bodily between Commander Weasley, who now stood sentinel at the entrance of the stable, blocking their exit, and Sebastian.
"No one touches Sebastian," Damien snarled, his ferocity surprising even himself.
Commander Weasley rolled her eyes behind her spectacles. "You're outnumbered thirty to one, Your Highness."
"I don't care!" Damien was a breath away from leaping forward, ready to begin a frantic assault, when a firm hand pressed against the top of his shoulder. Damien growled, whipping his head around to protest, only to discover Sebastian, a frown on his face, a deep furrow indenting his forehead.
"Damien," Sebastian whispered. "No."
Damien's whole body went rigid. "No?" he replied, his eyes filling with tears. He blinked rapidly and shook his head. "What do you mean, no?" he went on, even though he had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what Sebastian meant.
Damien, yet again, was correct. Why was he always correct about the worst things?
"It will be alright," Sebastian said, resigned, but not so much that a sliver of hope couldn't bleed through. Sebastian was lying, of course, but it was more of a white lie, a lie of feigned courage, than anything. Damien hated it.
"My father will kill you for what you did," Damien said, keeping his voice as low as he could possibly manage. "It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not. He won't listen to reason."
Sebastian didn't acknowledge Damien's statement. Instead, he said, "I trust you. With my life."
And then, Sebastian did something entirely unexpected. He planted a firm peck to Damien's cheek, a very welcome claiming, but Sebastian was also a commoner kissing a prince, which explained the shocked gasps even his chaste kiss elicited from the crowd.
As Sebastian finished, he brought his lips to Damien's ear and muttered, "Run," then shoved Damien, hard, away from Sebastian and toward the wall.
The distraction—because it had very obviously been that, even though the kiss had been quite nice and very much called for—worked, since Commander Weasley sprinted forward and into the stable toward Sebastian, allowing Damien passage through the narrow exit.
Too bad Damien couldn't move, even if he tried. His jaw had gone totally slack and his mind completely blank. At first. Until a million thoughts burst into life at once.
Run? Why would Damien run? If he ran, Sebastian would be captured. Damien couldn't—Damien wouldn't—
"Run, Damien!" Sebastian shouted, as he was wrestled to the ground by Commander Weasley. "Find evidence!"
That did it. Damien snapped back to life, his mind alert once more, his whole body tingling from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.
Of course there was evidence. There simply had to be!
And if there was evidence, Damien was the best person to find it.
He stumbled forward, dagger still in hand, amidst the shouting and general commotion of complete and utter pandemonium unfolding behind him.
Damien didn't glance back as he broke free from the stables, his mission consuming him entirely: Find evidence. Save Sebastian.
//
Princess Matty hadn't been certain what that was all about, but she was certain that it couldn't have gone according to plan, chiefly because Sebastian, the dim-witted dolt, had been captured. And rather easily at that.
She let out a long-suffering sigh. It figured. Although, to be fair, it was probably inevitable. Hard to ignore an entire flock of nobles and landed gentry exiting a castle inundated with every single knight in the kingdom.
Silly, really. They probably should have been more careful.
Ah well. Too late now.
Matty barely had a chance to speak with Commander Weasley—who had (somewhat hilariously) been clutching a bound Sebastian by the scruff of his neck—assuring the commander that Matty would return to the castle soon, after confirming Countess Jo had recovered from her faint, when it came to Matty's attention that Cal had resumed prying up the floorboards at their feet.
"What are you doing?" she hissed.
Cal shrugged, then smiled as the first floorboard he'd been working away at loosened. He yanked, falling backward onto his arse when the entire board came up with it.
Silas dropped down to help, replacing Damien's earlier crouched position. Prince Ale followed suit. It didn't take the three of them long to pry up enough floorboards for a body to drop down to whatever awaited them below.
A body meaning Matty, of course.
Because she had to investigate, right? Especially now that she could hear voices. They were muffled, the words indecipherable, but they were voices nonetheless. A mystery, and likely a good one. Princess Matty couldn't resist a good old-fashioned mystery.
She hiked up her heavy skirts to the protestations of both Killian—Matty shot him a smug glare in reply—and Jo, who was now awake and recovered from her faint. Matty ignored Jo as she peered over the edge of the hole, then, not even a hint of hesitation, leaped, hoping that the drop wouldn't be too far.
Matty let out a sigh of relief when the ground greeted her sooner rather than later. Her knees barely even ached when her feet hit the dirt. She didn't even need to call out for the others to follow her lead.
Cal came next, swiftly followed by Killian, Silas, and Prince Ale, then a frowning Jo, who had clearly been pushed by Val, who came down shortly thereafter.
Interestingly enough, once Matty had her bearings, she came to the conclusion that they were in a hidden corridor of sorts. Surprising, surely, because it seemed man-made, as well as used regularly, since torches lined the stone walls.
Lit torches.
Matty whipped around, bringing a finger to her lips to address a terribly loud clanking behind her, only to realize it was the sound of Tori's and Jaimsen's armor as they, too, dropped to the floor. They exchanged twin looks of apology, then started stripping off their armor to the decidedly quieter cloth garments they wore beneath, setting each metal piece gently on the dirt at their feet.
Good timing, too, since the earlier voices picked back up. While they remained soft, the words were faintly decipherable now.
"You fool of a boy," a man grumbled. "Escape is futile."
Matty recognized that deep, gravelly voice. She didn't have long to process that unfortunate revelation though before she also recognized the voice of the respondent.
"But sir," Leander Prewett groused groggily, "why am I here? I thought I was dead."
"That was the plan," the head of the royal knight-in-training's guard, Sir Solomon, Sebastian's uncle, said.
Princess Matty would have gulped if her mouth hadn't gone completely dry.
[ Read chapter ten ➡️ ]
MCs mentioned: @girl-named-matty's Matty Ambrose, Silas Evander, and Callan Gaunt, @savingsallow's Alejandro Salvatori and Valentine Black, @ravenwind-75's Johanna Newman, @espressoristretto-patronum's Tori Lewis, and @leaping-toadstool-caps's Jaimsen Hisui. <3 (IF I MISSED ANYONE, YELL AT ME PLEASE. LOL.)
"Gather ye Rose-buds while you may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to day, To morrow will be dying." - Robert Herrick
[ Thank you so much to the extremely talented @leawshum for this absolutely gorgeous commission of a flashback scene from Book 3 ("You Cannot Put a Fire Out") of my Sebastian Sallow character study series. ]
The full flashback scene (rated M) follows after the cut:
//
"You're lucky I love you, you cheeky scoundrel." Sebastian stood on the edge of the mountain they'd landed upon mere moments before, Damien having tickled him incessantly on the broom ride here. Damien had been straddling Sebastian for once and had wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. "That was so atrociously uncalled for, I don't even know where to begin," Sebastian exclaimed with a huff, but his smile betrayed him.
Damien laughed. "It's your own fault, Bash. You were the one who asked me to distract you from your bad mood." He placed his hands on his hips in mock indignation.
This cliff was one of Damien's favorite spots: the ocean spread out below them, glistening in the early afternoon sun. Damien suggested this little break from studying, to help cheer Sebastian up. Sebastian had been up in arms all day about an assignment in Charms he hadn't aced, worried that it would reflect poorly on his academic record, which their future careers depended so highly upon. Damien understood to a certain extent, but he really just wanted to enjoy the wonderful spring day with his handsome Slytherin.
"You couldn't think of another way to distract me?" Sebastian's cheeks flushed, accentuating the delightful constellation of freckles splayed across them—just one of his many physical features that Damien positively adored.
Despite today's small upset, Sebastian had been much happier in this, their final year at Hogwarts, and Damien reveled in his unbridled joy. In fact, while Damien had been captivated by Sebastian from the moment they met—his determination and confidence in their first duel, so reassuring, so magnetic that Damien couldn't help but be drawn to him—now... now Damien lived and breathed him; they were a part of each other, irrevocably intertwined, like twin stars in a shared orbit. If Damien had any say, no one would ever separate them; he wouldn't allow it.
"Oh, like this?" Damien charged forward, flicked Sebastian on the nose, then bolted, bursting into a fit of laughter.
"How dare you!" Sebastian shouted, chasing him down the mountain.
They ran and ran and ran, their peals of laughter startling a flock of poor, unsuspecting Jobberknolls out of the trees, causing them to laugh even harder. Sebastian eventually caught up with Damien, despite his slightly shorter legs. They were both gasping for air, so Damien was caught completely off guard when Sebastian launched himself in his direction. They toppled backward into the grass, ending up in a pile of tangled limbs. Sebastian's hands were suddenly in Damien's hair. He was hovering above Damien's face, his eyes—framed by his charmingly thick brows and lashes—were dark and wild. He planted his lips on Damien's mouth and kissed him earnestly. Damien kissed back, the corner of his lips curling up into a carefree smile.
"I should tickle you more often," Damien said after coming up for a much-needed breath. He inhaled deeply, savoring the delicate blend of herbs, sweet pastries, and a hint of cinnamon that always lingered around Sebastian, wrapping Damien in the comforting warmth of his own personal tea shop.
Sebastian growled, "Don't start," then resumed their fervent kissing.
Damien and Sebastian would be Hogwarts graduates soon, in less than two months now. Sebastian was considering taking a paid apprenticeship at J. Pippin's, while Damien wasn't sure what he wanted to do. In fact, he was at a complete loss.
He had owned a shop in Hogsmeade very briefly last year, although the circumstances upon purchasing it hadn't been ideal. He eventually sold it to Penny the house-elf and she'd managed to make it her own. Gladwell & Brewster was now a lovely little hat shop that was always, surprisingly, bustling with customers. Perhaps one day he'd own a shop again, although he'd much prefer one that wasn't, well, haunted.
If Damien couldn't decide what he wanted to do with his future by June, then he'd probably fall back on working with magical creatures. Maybe Ellie at Brood and Peck would have a position available for him. It wouldn't hurt to ask. Damien wasn't sure if tending to animals was his calling, but at least he would be contributing to making the world a better place. He admitted to himself that he still felt guilty about Charles the rat's unfortunate demise at his own hands. If he could take that back, he would in a heartbeat.
"What are you thinking about?" Sebastian inquired mid-grind. To his chagrin, Damien realized that yes, indeed, Sebastian had been grinding against him in the grass. He had been so preoccupied with thoughts of the future he hadn't even realized.
"You'd never guess," he said mysteriously. He would never say. Sebastian would not be pleased if he ever found out that Damien had been so lost in thought—even so much as calling to mind a dead rat—that he'd been distracted from Sebastian's, under normal circumstances, extremely persuasive intimate advances. Merlin forbid!
Sebastian made some half-hearted guesses, then gave up with a huff and flopped beside Damien in the grass. He sighed, tossing his arm over his eyes. "Why are you the way you are?"
"Pardon me?"
"Whenever I'm near you, I can't help myself. You're simply irresistible."
"Oh, you mean you're distracted by my sheer magnetism? My dashing good looks?" Damien sat up on his elbows, tugged at Sebastian's arm, revealing his face once more, and waggled his eyebrows at him.
"Never mind." Sebastian shoved him lightly. "I take it back!"
Damien smirked. "You know you secretly enjoyed that."
Sebastian shook his head vehemently at first, but quickly burst into a deep belly laugh, crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. "You're right. I did. Now come back over here and let me ravage you, darling."
Before Damien could get a word in edgewise, Sebastian's hand slipped down the front of Damien's trousers, his fingers warm as they wrapped around Damien's cock. He squeezed, firm and deliberate. A quiet gasp escaped Damien's lips at the pressure. Heat pooled in his belly as he hardened instantly under Sebastian's touch. Now it was Sebastian's turn to smirk, a possessive glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down Damien's spine. Then he squeezed again, much harder this time.
"Sebastian Nicolas Sallow!" Damien gasped, his voice catching; he was just barely holding himself together. He leaned forward, granting permission for whatever was about to happen. You never knew with Sebastian. Although, come to think of it, when it came to intimacy... Yes, he was rather easy to read in that regard. Rather easy, indeed.
