The pressure was all he felt. Heath had barely seen the male move forward to touch him. Though he was concentrating and his mind was sharp it was the contact that Heath was prepared for, and it was all he noticed and all he needed. The words the fire in his eyes and the snarl that lay beneath every action were secondary.
Heath stood still, though his body was relaxed and almost limp. Gold eyes looked into the baby blues that the gentlemen held, and found that what he wanted. Heath hardly moved his wrist; it wasn’t the one he cared much about. The black paw that the boy always led with moved with speed and purpose. A sharp action moved it up and then forward hard.
Feeling the shoulder beneath its hard and calloused palm, Heath let his teeth show. Lips raising to give him a show, the white fangs only accented his words. Make me fag. Heath took the step forward that his shove had opened, ready for the next step to the dangerous dance they shared.
table by erin
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