Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 165 - 160: Temptation (2)

Chapter 165: Chapter 160: Temptation (2)

"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.

"That you’d stew in it," he admitted, his voice dark and amused. "That you’d be leaking and aching by the time I came back."

Gabriel exhaled a sharp, trembling breath through his nose, narrowing his eyes at him.

"And you were right."

"I usually am."

His fingers curled over the waistband of Gabriel’s briefs again, lowering between his thighs, tugging them to the side, just enough to reveal what he wanted to see. The heat. The slick. The flushed, glistening entrance below was already fluttering with need. "And you did."

Gabriel moved his right foot, slow and deliberate, and placed it squarely on Damian’s shoulder, pushing gently, just enough to stop his hand from reaching his entrance, just enough to provoke.

"Maybe we should stop," he said, his voice syrupy with mischief. His smile was wide, smug, and infuriating. "You were right after all. Is there anything left to prove?"

Damian stilled.

His hand paused just above Gabriel’s thigh, fingers barely brushing the damp fabric now caught beneath the crook of his leg. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

He just looked at Gabriel.

The gold in his eyes darkened, not with rage, but with focus. That quiet, razor-sharp intensity that always came before something broke. His gloved hand remained curled, caught mid-motion, while the weight of Gabriel’s foot pressed deliberately into his shoulder.

"Maybe we should stop," Gabriel said again, dragging the words out this time like honey dripping too slow to catch. "Is there anything left to prove?"

Damian’s breath left him in a slow, deliberate exhale. He reached up, not to remove the foot, but to hold it. His hand wrapped around Gabriel’s ankle, steady and firm, his thumb beginning to draw slow, maddening circles over the bone.

Steady. Possessive. Intimate in a way that shouldn’t have made Gabriel shiver, but did.

"I don’t need to prove anything," Damian said at last, his voice low, dangerous, controlled.

"Hah..."

With a brief chuckle, Gabriel traced his white teeth with the tip of his tongue, eyes half-lidded with pleasure and provocation. "You sure that isn’t just your ego talking?"

Damian’s grip on his ankle tightened, not enough to bruise, but enough to send a jolt straight through Gabriel’s spine.

"My ego doesn’t tremble," Damian replied coolly. "But you do."

Gabriel’s breath caught, but his smirk held, barely.

"Keep telling yourself that," he murmured, even as his pulse thudded wildly in his throat.

Damian didn’t reply.

Instead, he moved in closer, shoulder pressing into Gabriel’s leg, breath dragging hot over his inner thigh. His thumb slid from ankle to the soft skin behind Gabriel’s knee, drawing another slow circle there, coaxing a small twitch, a hitch in breath that gave him the confirmation he needed.

Truth be told, he was enjoying every moment of it.

The way Gabriel stalled him, smug, resisting, pressing that foot to his shoulder like he had a choice, wasn’t a hindrance. It was a gift.

Because the resistance made the surrender sweeter.

Even now, with Gabriel stretched beneath him, that foot still braced against his shoulder like a challenge, Damian could feel the shivers coursing through him. Subtle. But there.

That was the difference between defiance and desperation: Gabriel was already unraveling, and Damian hadn’t even taken him yet.

He leaned closer, letting his shoulder sink more firmly into the curve of Gabriel’s leg. His thumb circled behind the knee again, lazy, coaxing, almost soothing. The skin was sensitive there.

Gabriel’s breath hitched again, lips parted just slightly, teeth biting down to hold back the sound.

"Still pretending you’re not the one shaking," Damian murmured, his voice nothing but heat and silk.

Gabriel arched a brow, trying to hold onto the last thread of his bravado. "I’m reacting," he said, though it came out thinner than intended.

"Mm." Damian’s mouth curved in approval.

He finally lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Gabriel as he pressed in closer, his shirt still on, untucked now, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. The fine fabric, gold-threaded and slightly wrinkled from haste, brushed against Gabriel’s inner thigh with each breath.

The buttons caught faintly against his skin, cool, ornamental, a soft contrast to the heat rolling off Damian’s body.

That shirt. That infuriatingly regal, still-dressed shirt.

It made Damian look like temptation incarnate. Golden. Composed. In control, even now.

Gabriel swallowed hard, the sight of it, feeling it, making his heart stutter in his chest.

Damian’s breath ghosted lower.

His lips brushed just beside the spot where Gabriel burned for him, not touching, not yet. Just close enough for heat, for want, for everything, Gabriel couldn’t hold back anymore.

Damian paused there.

Not moving.

Letting the tension coil tighter.

The friction of the shirt’s buttons against sensitive skin. The pressure of Damian’s hips between his thighs. The deliberate way he hadn’t shed his control or his clothes.

Gabriel bit his bottom lip to keep from panting.

And Damian smiled against his skin, teeth just grazing the edge of his hip.

"You’re trembling again," he murmured, his voice like smoke and silk.

Gabriel forced a breath, his hands fisting into the sheets.

"I’m waiting," he gritted.

"For what?"

"You," Gabriel said, eyes dark, voice wrecked. "In me. Now."