Ronan's hands reached for Riven's body, slow and deliberate, his large palms pressing against the curve of his waist before circling around him entirely.
His grip was firm but not forceful, fingers splaying over the lean muscle beneath his touch. Riven, initially caught off guard, let out a small noise—half surprise, half intrigue. This was new.
He didn't hate it.
The warmth of Ronan's body seeped into his own, his scent overwhelming, thick with something dangerous—something possessive. Riven's sharp eyes flickered, he turned to try to read Ronan, but Ronan was as unreadable as ever.
There were two fresh bite marks standing out starkly against Riven's pale skin, the imprint of Ronan's teeth was unmistakable. Deep red, raw. The sight of them made Ronan pause, his gaze darkening as his free hand came up to trace them.
