"What were you saying?" Darius murmured, voice dark and edged with a predatory softness. His thumb rubbed along Xion's bottom lip, savoring the way the healer shivered under his touch.
"You said, 'Don't grow.'" He tilted his head as if pondering the words, though his fingers never left Xion's jaw. "But…who was it that made it grow in the first place, hm?"
A flash of crimson bloomed over Xion's cheeks, and the healer's lips parted as if to respond, but no sound came out. He looked so utterly stunned, so hopelessly naive, that it made Darius' blood surge hotter.
Just as Xion was thinking about apologizing again, Darius grabbed his hand and placed it right back at the tent pitched at his lower body.
A shudder ran through Xion's body, his entire form going rigid. With the heat burning his senses, even his apology got stuck in his throat.
That reaction only spurred Darius on, his hands looping possessively over the tender lower back, pressing their bodies closer.
