"I like the contrast," Damian replied, his voice dark as silk, his breath hot where it ghosted against bare skin.
His gloved fingers trailed down Gabriel's bare stomach, just skimming the skin—too light to satisfy, too exact to be accidental. He paused at the edge of Gabriel's briefs, where the fabric clung damply to his skin, soaked through with evidence of just how close he already was.
Gabriel shivered.
Damian exhaled slowly through his nose, the sound a low hum of appreciation.
"Look at you," he murmured, brushing his knuckles against the wet material. "You don't even need me to touch you properly."
Gabriel's breath hitched, but his eyes narrowed, sharp, defiant even now.
"You bathed me in your scent before leaving earlier," he said, his voice hoarse but steady. "What did you think would happen?"
Damian paused.
Then he laughed, quietly, low in his chest. It was a pleasure laugh. Satisfaction. He knew damn well what he did.