Chapter Text
I LOVE YOU, LISA, read the drunken scrawl.
There was an earnestness to the slant of the hasty penmanship, the bold strokes speaking of impulsive youth and manic love. The strikethrough was done with pen, he noted. Something that cut deep as if to compensate for its meagre ink, scraping a harsh wound into the surface. And further down below: Lisa is a whore – wobbly, collapsed, hopeless.
The dented grey metal of the stall door was a tapestry of hormone-fueled vandalisms in all matter of hues – black, blue, red, and sprays of garish paint, and promotion stickers, their edges chipped away by years of wandering grubby fingernails. But this one leered at him, hovering perfectly at eye level. Erwin’s gut writhed as the letters bobbed in his vision like the poised neck of a serpent - forward, back, forward, back – every trembling frame doubling the climbing nausea as his long nose nearly grazed its surface.
A droplet of sweat dripped over the crest of his upper lip, pulled crookedly down by gravity past his gasping mouth. He licked his lips nervously, his teeth clicking softly as he let out an involuntary shudder.
Thin fingers scraped across his skull, closing on a handful of sweat-matted hair before yanking upwards viciously. Erwin cried out as his neck jerked back unnaturally, his throat bare and straining.
“Boring you, am I?” A gravelly voice hissed in his ear. Erwin groaned as sharp nails dug into his buttock, the stinging swollen flesh protesting vividly.
“N-no,” he protested. “Gah!” he cried, as the man’s hips swung forward sharply, embedding himself deeper until the prickle of his neatly trimmed pubic hair grazed Erwin’s tender skin.
“Quit your pathetic whining,” he sneered. Erwin bit his lip, swallowing down his dry whimpers as the man rammed into him with violent abandon. Oh God, it hurt – his eyes swam at the familiar burn of tearing flesh, the multicolour wall disappearing into a kaleidoscopic blur of static.
“Levi, please,” he begged hoarsely. He didn’t know what he was begging for. It was always like this, with far more ache than pleasure, but the disgusting warmth that crawled and pulsed through his gut at every throbbing intrusion was undeniable. His legs were splayed like some common whore, his feet stretching into the adjacent stalls, his knees bent and trembling from strain as Levi pinned his arms behind his back.
His pleas were met with only a darkly amused huff from the man behind him.
“Hmm. Beg more for me,” he chuckled. Erwin groaned as soft lips danced a tauntingly slow trail down his spine, the ridges of Levi’s teeth teasing lightly along his skin. “You’re so good when you’re like this, Erwin,” he whispered, his voice laced with a growl. “You’re such a good slut for me. It’s all you’re really good for, isn’t it? Bet you’ve spent all day thinking of my cock in your ass, mm?”
His thighs burned feverishly, the tendons of his calves twitching as he fought to stay upright. A yelp escaped him as Levi drove in deeper, sending a torturous burst of sensation – pain, but with it, heady, sinful pleasure – deep through his groin. His teeth found his chapped lip, drawing blood. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was half-hard already, without it even having been touched. What a sick bastard I am. Being degraded – being violated like this – on some level it was utterly infuriating. Levi was wiry and strong, but Erwin towered over him. And yet here he was, bending over like a bitch in heat, his ass being plowed by the most insufferable dickhead he’d ever had the misfortune to meet.
But fuck – was it good. He couldn’t deny the euphoric rush nor the weakness that rippled through every muscle as Levi worked his body. He didn’t know if it was the humiliation of it all, or the fact that Levi seemed to know every sharp ache, every tender spot, and teetered between the two so effortlessly that it rendered him boneless.
SLAP.
“Ah!” he choked. A firm palm glanced his buttock, sending a searing pain across its surface. He wondered dazedly how many times he’d been struck now. It’d be a nasty mess of bruises tomorrow, no doubt.
“I asked you a question.”
Erwin whimpered, blinking away the beginnings of tears from his eyes. Levi did not tolerate insubordination well.
“Y-yes.”
“What was that?”
“Yes!” he moaned. “Yes, I dreamed about your c-cock.” His eyes widened at the sudden creak of the door, the rivulets of sweat along his back turning icy with fear. A lopsided shuffle heralded the entry of some drunken reveler, followed quickly by the familiar sounds of a zipper being tugged down. The stranger grunted as he relieved himself, the muffled clamour of the crowd bleeding in in small pulses as the door swung like a pendulum.
But Levi ignored it. In fact, he seemed to delight in Erwin’s discomfort, sinking his nails into his hip and thrusting in deeper, his cock raking the walls of his ass with violent glee. Erwin swallowed down the moans blossoming in his throat, even as his eyes rolled back in their sockets.
“S-stop, Levi,” he protested, his voice a whispered hiss. “They’ll hear!”
“Better shut that mouth of yours then.”
Erwin exhaled with a shuddering groan as Levi plunged into him, grinding his hips against him deliciously as his cock nudged the spot that sent him spiralling into an unravelled mess. He didn’t know what was worse – the shameless whimpers bubbling up from his lips, or the wet, utterly depraved squelching sounds as Levi’s body met his again and again.
“S-stop, please,” he begged.
“Shut the fuck up.” He let out a pained cry as a cold hand grasped his balls, squeezing them in a manner too harsh to even be slightly pleasurable. “He’s probably too fucked up to even notice.”
Erwin nodded with a soft sob. The steady smack of skin on skin was a relentless metronome. The shuffling step of the stranger grew closer…closer…then faded, and the door swung closed. Warm relief flooded through his chest.
“Spread yourself wider for me,” Levi grunted, his knee nudging Erwin’s legs even further apart. He acquiesced easily. Of course he did – he was always putty in Levi’s hands.
He was getting close, his rhythm reaching an erratic staccato, his grip on Erwin dominating and merciless as he ruined him. The warm ache in his gut climbed, his own cock leaking as he clamoured uselessly towards his own peak. His sphincter burned – God, for such a small man, why does his dick have to be so arrogantly thick?
A deep breathy moan came from Levi’s lips as he found his release, the velvet tones of it ringing sweetly in Erwin’s ears. He pumped into him a few final times, shuddering lightly, before pulling loose. Erwin’s knees buckled, the hot gush of seed spilling down his thighs as Levi released his hold.
But he wasn’t done with him yet, apparently.
Strong hands wrapped around his throat, pulling him close in a choking grip. He fell slack, gasping futilely for the air that wouldn’t come. His head swam, the greenish fluorescent light and the gleam of the black-and-white tile bleeding together into a murky blur.
“Clean my cock,” he heard faintly through his ringing ears. A fleshy, thick thing was forced past his lips, and he gagged. Obediently, he suckled, rolling his tongue gently around Levi’s softening member, swallowing back his nausea at the vile, bitter taste. The soft grunts and moans, and his occasional gasps from the overstimulation were reward enough. Black spots were burning into his vision when Levi finally released him.
He fell to the floor heaving, his body quaking like a leaf stripped free of its anchor by a wayward wind. The ground was cold and grimy, the caked layers of piss stains and disinfectant burning in his nostrils as his starved lungs strained, drinking in the oxygen with the greed of a half-drowned man. His cock swung lightly, angry and red and painfully erect. Erwin moaned, his hips bucking slightly of their own volition, aching for release.
“I – I haven’t…” His voice faltered as cruel eyes glittered at him mockingly. “I h-haven’t come…”
“The fuck do I care?” Levi snorted with derision. Erwin’s cheeks burned, his ego smarting with the painful jab of humiliation. He clenched his jaw, throat bobbing under that silver-eyed disdainful glare.
“Fucking fag,” Levi laughed cruelly. He pursed those thin lips and spat, contempt glittering in his eyes. Erwin flinched as the cold wetness found his cheek, hot shame burning a hole through his core. Seeing Levi like this…it cut deeper than any razor blade ever could.
Then…why? Why couldn’t he quell this insatiable yearning within him?
The door swung a cold farewell as the dark-haired man left, leaving Erwin alone on the soiled tiles, alone with his filth and shame and despair. A faint line of red dripped down his thigh, mixing into the sticky, drying mess.
He reached for his pants numbly.
***
“You were gone a long time,” Mike greeted him. His amber stare was softly accusatory as he watched Erwin from over his beer glass.
Erwin only grunted in return, reaching for his own drink, the contents long turned flat and lukewarm. He winced as the bitter fluid swept down his aching throat. He slammed the empty glass down, his forehead creased in a tight scowl as he sighed softly. Fuck him. Fuck Levi. He was cruel, sadistic, and the very clinical definition of a narcissistic asshole.
He sat himself delicately into the too-small rickety bar stool, silently cursing the workings of whatever yuppie designer that had torn through the place and thrown it into a hellscape of ‘industrial chic’ impracticality. It all reeked of pretentiousness and manufactured ruggedness. The too-low lights, the exposed piping, the false-wall of worn brick – it was cold and skeletal, and utterly devoid of character. If he’d rest his cheek against those chipped bricks, they’d have no songs to sing.
Erwin couldn’t help flinching at the sharp pain that shot through him as he settled into his seat. Mike raised an eyebrow. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to meet his gaze.
“Erwin! Where the fuck did you disappear off to?” A slim woman with cropped sandy hair and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose approached them, bearing a gently sloshing pitcher of fizzy amber liquid. Her cheeks had her tell-tale flush already. Not a good sign, Erwin groaned inwardly. Nanaba was brutal whenever she got a bit tipsy.
“Hey Nan. Sorry.”
“Don’t you fucking ‘Hey Nan’ me,” she growled. She slammed the pitcher down with far more force than necessary.
“Hey, watch it,” Mike protested, grimacing at the beer stain spreading over his sleeve. She ignored him, piercing Erwin with her sharp grey-blue stare.
“We come out here to have a nice, relaxing get-together, the three of us, and next thing you know you’ve gone and fucked off doing God knows what.” A lump rose in Erwin’s throat as Nan’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me,” she groaned. “You hooked up with him again?” She gaped at him, the reddening blush on his cheeks spelling the answer plainly. “Here?!” Erwin felt his brow furrow as she shook her head disbelievingly. “Dammit, Erwin. That’s a new low.”
“It…it just happened,” he mumbled. “It was…consensual. We were just having a bit of fun. Nothing wrong with that,” he added defensively.
“You sure about that?” Mike asked quietly. He stared pointedly at Erwin’s neck – the collar of purple-blue bruises he couldn’t hide.
“Erwin-fucking-Smith. You’re nearly thirty, and here you are screwing around like some horny teenager.” Nanaba scowled with exasperation. She sighed, her expression softening as she reached for Erwin’s hand. “I don’t think he’s treating you well, honey. Look, I’m not one to shame people for, erm, their kinks or whatever. But I don’t think that’s what this is.”
“He roughs you up,” Mike interjected quietly. “I don’t know, Erwin. You seem – always worse off, somehow, every time this happens. I don’t like it.”
He waved off their worries impatiently, forcing out a stilted laugh.
“Have you seen the guy?” he huffs. “He’s what, five feet and change? You really think he could hurt me if I didn’t want him to?”
Nanaba eyed him wearily. He braced himself as she opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by the loud final twang of the guitar. Its garbled screech scraped against the wall of his skull, the red-haired instrumentalist howling as the gathered throng screamed.
“Thanks y’all,” he drawled, his silver piercings glinting as he grinned toothily. “It’s been great playin’ for ya.” His slouching troupe stumbled off the stage, whooping like a merry band of jackdaws.
“Can’t say I’m a fan of Floch’s music.” Mike massaged his ears with an annoyed grumble.
Erwin nodded eagerly, relieved by the distraction.
“I know y’all been waiting long for tonight’s headliners!” A portly man grinned onstage, his voice booming into the microphone. Erwin froze. “Please welcome to the stage – Petrichoria!”
Levi’s band.
Nanaba swore filthily at the sound of the name. Erwin paid it no mind. His eyes and ears were attuned solely to the small figure that strode across the stage. Dark slacks hugged his narrow hips, flowing languidly as his legs brought him beneath the glare of the spotlight. The top few buttons of his fitted shirt were unfastened teasingly, a thin silver chain hugging his bared throat. Levi grinned, and Erwin’s heart skipped a beat.
They were good – they drew the crowd here, like mayflies to a flame. They were too good to stay in this nameless smear of a town for long.
Erwin swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. Well. It wasn’t like he had any real claim to Levi. And he had no right to protest. He’d left once too, years ago.
“Ugh. Let’s leave,” Nan muttered. “We don’t need to stay for this.”
“No,” Erwin insisted. “We stay. I know you like their music. Can we…can we just forget about the situation – whatever it is – just for a minute?” His eyes pleaded unabashedly. “Please.”
Levi’s slender fingers closed around the microphone, craning his neck to survey the crowd as the drumbeat began to thud.
His voice cut through the night, sharp and imposing, intertwining flawlessly with the sweeping roar of the strings. Such a voice – deep and husky and brandishing all the molten mysteries of a fading twilight – it felt at once odd, emanating from such a slight frame, and yet it suited him perfectly.
“Damn. Izzy is really bringing it tonight.” Mike whistled in admiration as the redhead’s fingers danced a menacing toccata across the strings. Erwin nodded guiltily.
He knew of the others – talented musicians in their own right – the greasy haired, bespectacled drummer, the lanky bassist, the petite green-eyed guitarist, but there was truly only one person he cared to see.
His eyes fell shut as the chorus swelled, Levi’s voice breaking into a sobbing whisper that threaded through his ears like a gilded plea.
All that saccharine can’t hide
The taste of cyanide
In your kiss…
As I lick the venom from your honeyed lips.
And you’re poison…to me.
I’m suffocating.
I’m choking, I’m retching, and I can hardly breathe.
And you’re poison…To me.
I’m asphyxiating,
But this arsenic is oh-so-fucking sweet!
He really is beautiful, he mused. The stage lights seemed to melt away all the dourness, transforming what was previously arrogant and cavalier into a commanding assuredness as he strutted across his territory. He carried all the predatory grace of a shark slipping back into its waters as he danced, crooning into his microphone as if it were a lover, his eyes half lidded and the corner of his lip pulled upwards in a charming half-smile.
And the crowd fucking loved him. Of course they did.
The way the words fell from his lips, as sweet and dangerous as droplets of snakeroot nectar, the way his eyes seemed to find yours amongst the crowd - you could easily believe the words were meant for you and you alone. He was fierce and unearthly, burning far too brightly for a small-town stage. They chanted his name, screaming the chorus with hot-blooded cries, as he slipped further and further from fact into fable.
“They are pretty good, I guess,” Mike admitted.
“And fuck, does he know it,” Nanaba spat. “Look at him, prancing around like some diva.”
Erwin did look. That was all he could do – his eyes straining, burning, as he waited for him to glance his way. He could swear that the smirk on Levi’s lips was for him, so viciously taunting and lovely.
“Erwin. Erwin!”
He turned slowly, blinking.
“Hm?”
“You’ve got that gormless expression again. Snap out of it.” Mike downed the remainder of his beer, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards as he wagged a finger at Erwin. “You know what you need? A distraction. Maybe a bit of fun.”
Erwin’s brow creased in agitation. That was the last thing he wanted.
“How about that skinny gal there? Since you’ve clearly got a craving for dark-haired petite things…” Mike broke off into a chuckle at Erwin’s mortified expression. In the direction of his not quite discretely extended pointer finger, a slender woman danced, her pale arms gleaming under the flickering lights as she swayed, eyes closed. “Just saying. It’ll get your mind off that asshole. Besides, she’s been eyeing you for a while now.”
Erwin’s throat bobbed nervously. Suddenly, the crack in the cheap veneer of the table became very interesting.
“Stop,” he sighed, thumbing at the edges of the ugly fracture with a frown. Damned cheap furniture. It was everywhere these days – mass-produced, intentionally ugly – flimsy things masquerading as the stalwarts from simpler times, pretending to have forgone appearances for bare functionality.
“Leave him be.” Nanaba tugged at her boyfriend’s sleeve. “Last thing he needs is a rebound, honestly. C’mon. The night is still young, and we… aren’t that old yet – right?!” Mike rolled his eyes. “Let’s go dance, guys.”
The bass throbbed, its heartbeat vibrating through his ears, his skull, the marrow of his bones. He glanced at the dance floor nervously. Bodies twisted and writhed beneath the barest rags of sweat-soaked clothing, cresting together like a conjoined mass of flesh, bewitched under that intoxicating rhythm. Grinding hips, jiggling breasts, and a hundred arms raised to the heavens – that was their prayer, their dark Dionysian offering.
And on the stage stood their god, raven-haired and glowing.
“Go on ahead. I need another drink.” He waved them off, striding towards the bar. Erwin didn’t bother looking back as he shouldered his way through the crowd. His fists clenched and unclenched, his palms suddenly clammy as he mumbled, “shot of whiskey, please. Whichever. The cheap kind.”
His fingers tapped anxiously on the sticky laminated wood. A woman next to him laughed, a squeaky raucous thing that grated in his ears. It was hot in here, despite the best efforts of the feeble air conditioning, the air heavy with the clamouring stink of stale beer, musk, and cheap perfume. The voices chittered away around him, a cacophonous beige-tinted mishmash, but his voice soared above it all – a lilting, growling thing that wrapped around his ribs and squeezed.
I could listen to him forever.
The crawling itch in his chest thrashed. His nails found the half-healed gash across his forearm, scraping across it listlessly, parting the crusted scab from the raw flesh beneath. He closed his eyes, and the music enclosed him like a shroud, Levi’s voice the silken lining, both strangling yet solacing.
He opened his eyes, noticing the angry wet bloom of red with a sullen indifference. His guilty fingers curl, hiding the bloodied fingernails.
What a nasty habit, he could almost hear Levi sneer. How pathetic are you?
He nodded gratefully as the glass finally slid his way, the ripple of the amber surface warm and welcoming.
He gulped it down, savouring the fiery kiss of the alcohol as it slid down his throat.
“Another,” he rasped. “Please.” The hair on his neck prickled and he turned warily, suddenly feeling the sense of being watched. He blinked in surprise. It was the girl Mike had pointed out. She was pretty, in an austere way. The dark plaits of her hair trailed down her shoulders, framing an oval face with thin, dainty brows and ashen eyes. His gut lurched, seeing traces of him in the unfamiliar woman’s face.
“And another for the lady, too,” he added. She blushed slightly.
“Hey. Guess you caught me staring, eh?” Her grin was soft and genuine. Erwin smiled back, albeit weakly. “I’m Lara. What do they call you, big guy?”
“I’m – uh – Erwin. E-Erwin Smith.” The cheap whiskey seeped its tendrils through his veins, making his lips sluggish. The tips of his ears burned as he swallowed down his second shot, chasing away the sour notes of embarrassment with another helping of liquid courage.
“Erwin. What is that, German?” He nodded.
“Mother’s side.”
“She teach you any German pick-up phrases?” she asked cheekily, eyebrow cocked.
Erwin flinched.
“Well, no. She died giving birth to me,” he stated bluntly, regretting it the instant it left his lips. She gaped at him, mouth twitching as she scrambled for something to say.
“Oh fuck me,” she mumbled, her face crumpling. “I – I’m sorry, man.”
“No, no, don’t apologize.” He chuckled lightly. “That was on me. Dropping dead mothers into a conversation…certainly dampens the mood a bit.”
“Well yeah, bit of a conversation killer,” she agreed, relaxing. A hint of her smile returned, to his great relief. “Your friends abandon you?”
“Off dancing, I suppose.”
“Well, Erwin,” she smirked, sipping at her drink delicately. “What do you say we go for a dance?”
“Oh – I don’t really – ”
“Don’t give me that,” she laughed, her eyes crinkling. “C’mon.”
***
It must have been a comical sight - Lara teetering in her heels with the towering blonde in tow.
“Dance!” she commanded.
Erwin licked his lips nervously. He shuffled tentatively, his legs slow and heavy with the drink, his ears ringing faintly from the booming bass. Twenty paces away, the shadow of Levi flickered in his vision. He clenched his jaw, urging himself not to look.
“Sorry, this isn’t really my thing. I’m not really sure what to do,” he apologized.
A laugh rippled through her body, her movements erratically emotive, her slender frame a willow branch swaying in the spring wind. Something stirred in him as he watched her. She circled him, taking his large hands in hers, pulling him close as the press of the crowd enclosed them.
“Shh. There isn’t a right or wrong way to go about it. Just move.”
“Okay,” he whispered.
He stiffened as soft hands wandered down his body, pressing against his back, his chest, all the places Levi had touched. Her skin was warm as she pressed against him and she smelled of lilacs – but it felt wrong, so wrong. His stomach lurched.
“S-Sorry – I – ” he broke away, gasping.
“Sorry, was that too much?” Her eyes – grey, like his - were wide with concern. “I didn’t mean to…hey – are you okay?”
“I have to go,” he managed to choke out, his feet pounding the slippery floors until he reached the bathroom, the vomit surging up in bitter, acrid waves as he coughed and retched into the toilet.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he spat. A stab of guilt pierced him as the look on her face - dejection and pure, undisguised pity – flickered behind his eyelids. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the problem, the broken one. She was pretty, lithe, and willing, and yet every touch had felt somehow like a betrayal.
He wiped his mouth hastily, stumbling to the sink. The tap water had a metallic tang, but it was cool and cleansing and he drank it greedily from a cupped palm.
“What a sight you are, Erwin Smith,” he muttered tiredly to his reflection. The hollow-eyed man stared back at him from sockets ringed by dark shadows, his mussed hair slick with sweat, his chin bearing a thin layer of stubble. Levi really had done a number on him.
Even if he were to strike a bargain with the Devil himself, there was little of his soul left to take.
****
“Erwin - Erwin! There you are.” Mike stumbled into view, his stance crooked as he supported the weight of his wobbling girlfriend. She grinned woozily, flopping an arm in greeting. “Nan’s had far too much to drink,” he grumbled. “I told her she shouldn’t have chugged down that last lemon drop…or the three before that, either.”
“Em fiiiiine.”
“No, you’re very much not,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Let’s get you home before all that sugary liquor in your stomach makes its way onto my shirt. I rather like this one.” He sighed, making a jerking motion with his head. “Let’s get a cab, Erwin.”
Erwin hesitated. I should leave, he insisted. It’s late. I feel like shit. Probably look it, too. But something tethered him in place.
Stop – he urged himself. You don’t want him. But oh – he did. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him, silver-eyed and glorious as he wove through the crowd, and his resolve dissolved like spun sugar beneath the heat of the sun. The same night could pass a thousand times, and a thousand times he’d stay, for the mere chance that he might look his way and smile.
“You two go on ahead,” he said softly. “I’m going to stick around for a bit.” He looked away before he could see Mike’s face fall.
“Don’t, Erwin. He’s not worth pining over.” A rough hand patted his shoulder. “C’mon – we’ll get you home. Or you can even stay at our place if you want. Couch is mighty comfy.”
Erwin drew back, his mouth set in a firm line.
“I’m good, Mike. I don’t need you hovering over me.”
“Goddammit, Erwin,” Mike snapped. “Look, you’re a grown-ass adult. I’m not here to baby you. You can make your own fucking decisions. I gotta get Nan home.” At the sound of her name, she groaned, hiccupping as her head lolled slightly.
“I don’t see how it’s any of your damned business anyway,” he retorted hotly. He shrank a bit under Mike’s glare, regretting his petulant tone.
“Fucking hell, Erwin.” Mike’s fist found the wall, thumping it with enough force to make Erwin flinch. “I’m your fucking friend. It’s my business when you come crying to me, like you always do. He’s fucking with you. He’s always been fucking with you, and still – you crawl back to him every bloody time. You choose him over us. Your head gets messed up and then your heart gets broken and then who has to pick up the damn pieces?! Me. Me and Nanaba.”
The shaggy man fell silent, his chest heaving as he glowered at Erwin.
Say something, he urged himself. Apologize. You know he’s right.
But his damned pride won – Pride, of all things; who’d have guessed that he had any left? – and he said nothing, until Mike finally stormed out, cursing into the night.
***
He stayed, and he watched.
He stayed for song after song, the laments and ballads and battle cries lashing welt after bloody welt in the aching cavity of his hollow chest, and he watched as the hands creaked by on the old bar clock.
He stayed as the glasses piled up on his table, the contents swimming their way through his bloodstream, and he watched as the crowd wailed their adulations to their dark-haired king, who bowed down ever so graciously to kiss their waiting hands and cheeks and lips.
He stayed until Levi leapt off the stage, and watched as he wound through the masses with serpentine grace.
“Come over.” His whisper was a ripple of black silk that snaked around his throat. “I’ll be nice. Promise.” Those silver eyes danced teasingly, still glowing with the thrum of the crowd’s adoration. Erwin shuddered as a fingertip brushed lightly against his jaw, liquifying his nerves as the hum of the bar disappeared, wholly engulfed by the same dark velvety void that pressed against every inch of his skin.
He swallowed.
“Okay.”