Askai desperately wanted to move away, to break the sensual trap, but his back was pressed firmly against the cool marble counter, and sometime during their conversation, Vance had moved to cage him in, his large, imposing body dominating the space.
"Just choose to stay by my side," Vance murmured, his voice laced with the seductive promise of absolute protection. "And you can have my men escorting you to whichever place you would want to go." The words were a dark echo, the same veiled offer every man of the East made to the prized, beautiful "property" they kept in the West.
"If I don't?" Askai managed, his voice barely a breath.
The answer wasn't spoken; it was delivered with a shocking, swift certainty by Vance's lips that came crashing down on his.
Askai tried to turn his face to the side, a desperate act of defiance to keep his head straight but Vance's hand held his chin firmly in place, immobilizing him. Askai gasped at the sudden, sensual assault, and Vance took the opportunity, deepening the kiss instantly, his tongue swiftly, expertly invading his mouth. Askai moaned—a helpless, involuntary sound—as his responses relaxed, the alcohol and the shock working together to dissolve his defenses.
He was trapped, utterly consumed by the demanding, intoxicating heat of Regale.
The kiss was everything Askai feared and everything he secretly craved. Vance's lips were soft, yet firm, moving with a patient, possessive rhythm that stripped away every layer of Askai's anger and resistance.
Askai's involuntary moan melted into a low sound of surrender, his hands, which should have been pushing Vance away, instead rising tentatively to grip the fine material of Vance's shirt, pulling him closer.
The liquor warmed his blood, blurring the lines of right and wrong. For a heart-stopping moment, the entire opulent, suffocating room ceased to exist. There was only the heat of Vance's body pressing him against the counter, the intoxicating taste of expensive whiskey and desire on his tongue, and the shocking realization that he was meeting this intensity not with a fight, but with a desperate, hungry response.
A spear of guilt pierced through the haze.
Jordan. Jordan and Kael were still out there, hiding behind some flimsy walls in Middle Nolan, while Askai, the self-proclaimed protector, was here, letting himself be consumed by the very embodiment of the East End corruption.
Askai tried to stiffen, to pull his mind back to the concrete reality of his mission, his hand pushing back against his chest but Vance sensed the moment of withdrawal. He didn't break the connection.
Instead, Vance's arm wrapped around Askai's back, pulling him into an impossibly tight embrace, turning the kiss gentler, almost pleading.
It was a silent agreement: Just for a moment. Forget the world.
Askai closed his eyes, his resistance crumbling like dust. He allowed himself to fall, deeply, willingly, into the seductive abyss. He needed this pause. He needed to be held, to feel something that wasn't panic or vengeance. No matter how fleeting those feelings were!
His hands left Vance's shirt and slid up, circling around Vance's strong neck, pulling himself flush against the hard, unyielding wall of Vance's chest. The simple act of holding him, of giving in to the intoxicating power of the man, felt like the release of a spring held tight for years.
Vance broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Askai's, their breaths mingling, ragged and fast. His eyes, the deep brown now molten with heavy desire, were fixed entirely on Askai's face.
"See?" Vance murmured, his voice husky, triumphant. "No pride required. Just... a yes..."
He didn't wait for the reply. He gently lifted him off the ground and carried him toward the vast, plush bed. Askai's head swam, not just from the drink, but from the intoxicating pleasure Vance was evoking with every touch. He made no protest.
Vance laid him gently on the cool sheets, following him down, covering him with his long, hard body. The clothes came off slowly, deliberately, an act of mutual, intense focus.
Every touch was an unspoken question, answered by a soft gasp, a shifting of hips, a desperate meeting of eyes.
It was an exquisite surrender. In that bed, in the heart of the enemy's territory, for a profound, suspended hour, Askai allowed the world to shrink to the boundary of their skin.
The guilt was pushed down—ruthlessly, determinedly—into the darkest corner of his mind. He would face it later, when the light returned. Right now, there was only the fierce, demanding heat of Vance, the pleasure they were forging between them, and the passionate touches that were blowing their minds.
Askai clung to Vance, leaving himself open to ministrations of his expert hands, driving away the cold memory of the streets and the raw, persistent fear for his future.
For now, the walls were down. For now, they were just two men, consuming and consumed, desperately trying to outrun their separate, converging storms.