The declaration made the air between them tremble, thick with the scent of spiced dark rum. Chris felt it wash over him, the last of his resistance dissolving from his body. His scent, that fresh, cold rain, bloomed in answer, sweet and clean.
Dax's mouth descended again, kissing a path down Chris's throat, over his collarbone, his tongue tracing the small gap between his pectorals. Chris gasped, his back arching off the bed, his hands flying to Dax's hair, fingers tangling in the white blonde strands.
'Yes, yes, yes.'
Then Dax's mouth was on him, and Chris cried out, a sharp, choked sound.
Dax's lips pressed against the faint silvery lines on his hips, and his tongue traced their paths with worshipful strokes. He kissed the soft skin of Chris's inner thighs, his breath hot and damp. Chris trembled, his legs falling open in shameless invitation, a soft, pleading moan escaping his lips.
