Daevari -II-

Chapter 8.1: Devil in the Details

Ari lay draped across Auovin, his face pressed into the crook of Auovin's neck. The scent was intoxicating: fire, sand, sandalwood. He could not resist biting down, sinking his teeth hard enough to break the skin, though not enough to draw a lot of blood. The taste of Auovin's blood—hot and thick—filled his mouth as he licked and sucked, savoring the flavor. It was fire and wine, though more fire than wine, burning his tongue like a sun torn from the heart of hell.

Auovin arched his neck, exposing more of it to Ari, his gaze a smoldering sun, drawing Ari in deeper. As though last night had not satisfied him, though they had tangled together well into the wee hours of the morning. The thought brought a smile to his lips, a reminder of the ache that ran down his back and through his legs, bite marks and crimson love bites blooming on his skin, concentrated over his chest and neck. In days, they would darken into bruises. No one had marked him before—neither Cyrus, Kaval nor Sascha. Only Auovin could, and considering what they were, it was only fitting.

"Shall we bathe?" Auovin's voice, thick with sleep, sent another wave of heat through him, though he felt sore and sluggish, reluctant to rise. He wanted nothing more than to stay just as they were, kissing and touching as freely as he wished. He smiled at the thought, snuggling closer to Auovin, draping his leg across his and pulling him in.

"No, let us stay like this a while longer," Ari murmured against Auovin's skin. Auovin threaded a hand through Ari's hair, bringing with it the memories of last night, vivid and stirring. Ari pressed closer to Auovin, suppressing a smile that threatened to overtake him in pure giddiness. This was what happiness felt like, tasted like. Ari was more certain of it than anything in the world.

"It is likely well into the afternoon by now. Soon, people will begin looking for me. I cannot hide from them here forever."

Ari perched himself up, gazing down at Auovin, feeling himself fall in love all over again. Auovin was the embodiment of perfection—from the way he laughed, to his smile... even his voice. All so perfect. And every inch of him was his once more, now and forever.

"What can I do to convince you to stay a while longer?" Ari asked, climbing over him, relentless, craving another taste, another kiss, something, everything.

"Oh," Auovin's lips curved into a mischievous grin. "I can think of a few things."

He reached for Ari, cradling the side of his face to draw him closer, their lips meeting in a kiss.

"Only a few?" Ari whispered between breaths. Auovin's hand drifted from Ari's face and up his thighs, chest and around his back, inching back down toward his waist. His touch teased, and Ari's patience began to wane.

"Do not tempt me," Auovin murmured, tightening his hold on places still tender from before. Yet Ari did not protest; he wanted him to continue, to want more, to desire him as fervently as Ari desired him.

Auovin shifted, pinning him beneath, his knee pressing between Ari's legs, bringing him into a kiss that curled his toes, stiffened his core, and emptied his mind of every ache, every thought, filling him instead with anticipation—where Auovin would touch next, and how long this time would last.

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When Ari woke again, he was alone in bed. A fire burned in the nearby hearth, strong and steady, instantly reminding him of Auovin and making him ache for his warmth. His eyes felt heavy, refreshed yet still tired. He took a handful of the sheets beside him and smiled. The soreness and aches had doubled since before; perhaps, Auovin had indulged him a little too well. But a bath would take it all away.