BURNING DESIRE (BXB)

His hand stayed in his, and with every passing second, the rest of the world seemed to fade; until there was nothing but his skin, his breath, and the steady throb of his heartbeat.
His thumb moved gently over the inside of his wrist, slow and intentional, as if he were learning the rhythm of his pulse by heart. He didn't pull away. If anything, he leaned closer; close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of his breath near his jaw.
He smelled like a cool after shave yet warm, a scent that pulled him toward his more strongly than any words ever could. He wanted to close the space between them, to feel him against his, to find out if his mouth tasted as dangerous as his eyes suggested. But he didn't. He held them in that delicate, electric almost, because sometimes the wanting was its own kind of pleasure.
His fingers tightened around his, and he felt it, not as permission, not as an invitation, but as something far more dangerous, his desire, it's burning, and it's written all over his eyes.