[Orym's heart skips several beats as those lips brush against his knuckles. There's the feeling of heat as a blush spreads across his cheeks. He watches as Dorian releases his hand, watches as the other man walks through his door and shuts it behind him, and oh. Oh he wants to follow, wants to call him back.
But he can't.
Instead he tips backwards, flopping back to his bed and staring at his reflection on the ceiling-mounted mirror, holding the hand that had been so sweetly hissed to his chest.]
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But he can't.
Instead he tips backwards, flopping back to his bed and staring at his reflection on the ceiling-mounted mirror, holding the hand that had been so sweetly hissed to his chest.]
Tonight.
[He's in so much trouble.]