The chin above him was hairless and strong
and masculine, and Trace gave in to the sensation, closing his eyes
again as he let the tongue in. It flicked over his teeth, the
inside of his cheeks, his own tongue, before it licked away over
his lips and chin. Small kisses soft along his jaw, wet lips
closing over his earlobe, a man’s breath in his ear. Trace brought
one hand up from his crotch to feel the close-cropped hair of his
visitor, and his fingers found the small tagged piercing high up in
one ear that was the mark of a replicate.
Opening his eyes again, he leaned back as the
man kissed his neck and tried to see more of his visitor. A slim
body beneath a silver and blue jumpsuit, one hand by Trace’s head
to steady him above with the other buried in a pocket, an obscene
bulge at his crotch. Not an Alpha-10—too thin. Into the ear close
to his mouth, Trace breathed, “Let me guess. Psi-45?”
“Delta-23,” the other whispered between