With a flick of his wrist, Darius discarded his outer robe like a man unburdening himself of all decency.
As he took another step forward, his dark shirt dropped to the cold marble floor, lying there as abandoned as his barely-there control.
His heavy gaze trailed down Xion's almost bare body.
That back— so pristine, so pale — looked like something out of a temple painting. The golden chains that draped across it glinted wickedly.
Darius wanted to hold them.
No, he wanted to tear them off, grab the waist beneath, and bend his sweetheart over the nearest surface, tease him until he was sobbing from overstimulation.
Xion looked divine. His baby was so gorgeous, so beautiful that he could doom anyone to their demise with just his single look.
For a moment, Darius didn't know whether to fall to his knees and worship his angel, or defile him so thoroughly that by the end, Xion would be covered with his cum, ruined and trembling.
