ofcatsandfate | Fabrice Coombs, in the study, with an overly large magical tome. {For Demetri}

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Fabrice Coombs, in the study, with an overly large magical tome. {For Demetri}

Fabrice walks home from his meeting with Demetri in something of a daze, still trying to process the fact that their conversation evolved from mutual concern about their missing family members into actual flirtation, and Fabrice thinks he actually didn't make a fool of himself, for once. He's seen Demetri over the years, of course. Both of them hailing from two of the oldest families in town, they always ended up running into each other at town gatherings, fancy masquerade parties, and the like. They've exchanged pleasantries, if nothing else, and they've run in the same circles, more or less.

Looking back on it, Fabrice realizes he's always been somewhat curious about the other man, one half of the golden Thornton duo upon which the town doted, even amid their numerous pranks. Dwelling on it now, Fabrice realizes that after running into Demetri in a personal way, said fascination has developed into something deeper, a series of feelings and emotions he has yet to previously explore for himself.

When he gets home, he goes about his usual routine, checking the herbs in the kitchen window, making sure the cats are fed, while his mind lingers on Demetri's smile and the vibrancy of his blue eyes. He winds up staring out the window in his kitchen for a good hour before he realizes he should shower.

He showers, and actually makes an effort to look somewhat presentable, with a loose-fitting, white shirt and the nicest pair of jeans he can find, the only pair without any holes in them. He even attempts taming his hair, though that proves futile the more he thinks about his earlier encounter with Demetri.

Restless after that, he makes to his study, briefly pausing to give each of his cats attention before reaching for an older volume in his collection, the one focusing on scrying. He hopes he can be of some use tonight, beyond looking like a presentable human being.

So he settles into his favorite chair by the window in the corner, opening the book on his lap as he curls into the chair with the memory of Demetri's hand on his for company, trying to focus on the words as he waits for the other man's phone call.

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"I wouldn't say that." Every gasp that he pulls from Fabrice, every willing sound and movement is heady. When they other man teases him, he smiles, kissing him yet again, not wanting to part yet.

"Good," Demetri's said that enough tonight, but it is good. It's dangerous too, and he wonders if Fabrice knows that they're playing with flame. They can deal with that later, Demetri thinks, as much as he's thinking anything right now beyond how much he wants the other man.

"I wonder," one of his hands comes free, Demetri tracing across Fabrice's jaw, down his neck to tug at the top button on his shirt. "If you'd look as good naked as I think."

"Oh no?" He asks, voice ragged from their kissing. Demetri might not be a witch, but he certainly seems to be casting his own magic around Fabrice, who feels like he's under a spell with touch and kiss exchanged between them.

"Yes," he manages in between kisses, knowing somewhere in the back of his mind how utterly delicate this situation his, them both being who they are and the town what it is. Still, some other inner part of him remains undeterred, firm in the belief that something good could come of this, even if it takes time.

But he doesn't have time now to dwell on those thoughts. Not when Demetri is glancing a finger across his jaw before moving down to tease at the buttons on his shirt.

"I..." He's all but panting now, overwhelmed by sensation when he remembers his scars. "Maybe not. I...still have scars."

Demetri wishes this were his place so he could tug Fabrice to his bed. So he could press the other man down beneath him and undress him slowly. It's more shocking a thought than any mention of scars, his rooms a sanctuary only his siblings venture into.

"We all have scars. Some are just figurative." But his plans of conquest - if he could even call it that anymore as wrapped up as Demetri is in simply being there with him - are put on hold. He feels protective again, wanting tonwrap himself around the other man and never let anyone hurt him again. "Show me?"

It's asked as kindly as he'd asked Fabrice to tell him of it earlier. Yet he shakes his head and smiles, dismissing his own question. "You don't have to."

The way Demetri just looks at him makes Fabrice go weak in the knees, as ridiculous as it sounds. Even more shocking is his own desires matching the heat of that look, his own need to kiss and clutch at the other man the way he's never been intimate with another person before.

He winces at potentially killing the mood, but he appreciates the concern in the other man's face and the way he gently asks if he can see them, with such care that further warms Fabrice's heart towards him.

"It's alright," he says, moving to unbutton his shirt, peeling it off his skin slowly. "I want to." The fabric reveals the skin underneath as it falls away, two distinct, large purplish scars that resemble claw marks. Fabrice flushes at exposing so much of himself to the other man, but he doesn't shy away.

It doesn't kill the mood as much as alter it, at least that's how it seems to Demetri. "That's no knife-" he says softly, a hand hovering over one of the fairly newish marks. His mouth pulls tight but in concern and not displeasure.

Slowly and gently, Demetri traces fingers along the edge of the scars, careful to not press lest he hurt Fabrice. They're larger than Demetri imagined and Fabrice is luckier than he even thought to still be alive bearing wounds like these. But they do nothing to mar the other man's beauty. It's something Demetri is sure shows in his eyes as he looks back up, the heat still there if somewhat subdued.

"I've never noticed how beautiful you are before today." And how lucky, he wants to add, but doesn't. That seems like tempting something, whatever it is that made those wounds. He unbuttons his own shirt, not wanting the other man to be the only one feeling exposed. Demetri isn't actually sure what he's thinking anymore when he lifts Fabrice's hand, holding it over his heart. "Like I said- Some of our scars are more figurative."

"No, it isn't," Fabrice agrees, observing the other man carefully to see how he reacts to the scars. Even as his hand lingers above the marking on his skin, Fabrice can still sense the weight of it, thick and warm like smoke from a campfire. He yearns for the other's touch, still. "But they insist that it was some biker gang related knifing incident anyway." Demetri's mouth tightens, and Fabrice's heart starts beating faster when he recognizes the glint of concern in his eyes.

He shivers as Demetri glides his fingers along his scars, his touch feather-light yet certain enough that it stirs the heat inside of him. He realizes that he is incredibly lucky to be alive, something he's been working on trying not to take for granted. The reverent gleam in the other man's gaze makes his stomach dance about.

"I..." His face fully flushes at the words, unused to anyone using the word 'beautiful' in conjunction with himself, especially someone as gorgeous as Demetri Thornton. His heart feels so light it might float out of his chest like a stray kite. "Thank you? Um, you're even more beautiful than I remember," he tells him, because it's true. Up close and personal like this, Demetri possesses a complex beauty beyond his appearance. In the way he speaks to Fabrice and touches him, he has a beauty beyond words.

He can't keep his eyes from the other man's chest as he pulls down his own shirt. He's worked out, and it shows. Fabrice feels even more drawn to it, when Demetri takes his hand and places it over his heart, warm and alive beneath his fingers in a way that makes him never want to let go.

He lifts his eyes to meet the other man's gaze. How could such a beautiful man have scars in his heart?

"We can be scarred together," Fabrice says in response, offering him a small smile.

"They're idiots," he says sadly, wondering why anyone would buy into such a lie. Magic, probably, and the inability to accept it. If these scars relate to James' disappearance then he worries more for his brother, even if he's impotent in that area of his life, unable to do more than wait and rely on others to help.

Demetri is used to hearing he's attractive, but those compliments pale beside the few honest, unpracticed words that Fabrice utters. He shakes his head in disbelief, cradling Fabrice's neck as he pulls him back into a kiss. His kiss is slow and deep, full of need of a different type that scares even him.

We can be scarred together. The words echo inside of him, his breath catching. Demetri doesn't remember ever wanting someone so much, ever feeling as if he might break should they not want him back. He breaks the kiss for long enough to meet Fabrice's eyes, realising that he hasn't been able to control what the other man sees in them for a while now. It's terrifying and exhilarating, he thinks as he whispers, "bed?"

"Hmmm," he agrees, because the more he looks at his own scars, the more he realizes how bizarre and inaccurate the media is in regards to their coverage on the attack, a thought that strikes him as odd, though he can't explain why. He sincerely hopes that whoever gave him these scars isn't behind kidnapping James and Moira.

When Demetri pulls him in for another kiss, Fabrice all but throws himself into it, clutching at the other man's shoulders as he cradles his neck, recognizing the need in the other man's hungry kiss and responding with his own, a deep kind of hunger that scares him with its potency. He lets out a moan, unable to keep his need to himself.

He feels bereft when they part, and Fabrice realizes that he has never felt so desperate for someone in his entire life. He realizes that he hasn't felt afraid of showing himself to Demetri since the other man entered his home, something that lingers in him as he meets Demetri's gaze, raw and as wild as his own.

"U-upstairs," he pants, pulling back a bit and grabbing onto Demetri's hand to lead him to his bedroom.

It's a trip that should only take a few moments, if it weren't for the fact that Demetri can't keep his hands off of Fabrice. He feels like he's aching every time they pull apart, and he stops them on the stairs, pushing him against the wall to kiss him again, to run a hand up Fabrice's side, to press together only to pull apart and repeat it a few steps later.

They nearly tumble once, and Demetri doesn't care, breathless and laughing and never letting go of Fabrice's hand. "This is crazy," he whispers when they finally make it to the door of what he desperately hopes is the bedroom. Demetri twists the tips of fingers into Fabrice's hair, kissing along his jaw and nipping at the arch of his neck. He wants to wrap himself up in the other man, to make him laugh and smile, shudder and moan. "But I like it."

Fabrice doesn't mind that they wind up dragging out a trip that should be only a few moments and up the stairs; he can't stop clutching and grabbing at the other man, needing to keep his skin pressed to his own. He groans into the kiss when he's pushed against the wall, tangling his hands in Demetri's hair and trying to bring him closer, though only a sliver of air separates them. He never wants to let Demetri go, and it shows as they keep repeating the cycle every few steps.

They almost fall, but Fabrice manages to right them both, breathless and grinning like an idiot, never loosening his grip on Demetri's hand.

When they collide into his bedroom door, Fabrice can't help but laugh with Demetri, alive with desire and just having the other man beside him up here, nearly in his bedroom. His laughter becomes moans when Demetri starts playing with his hair, kissing his jaw, and nipping at his neck, which Fabrice just now realizes is particularly prone to attention there. "Oh God," He shudders, hands moving recklessly across Demetri's shoulders and back. He wants to lose himself in this man and his smile, his laughter; he wants to become a part of his life and make him moan all at once.

"M-me too," he manages in a husky voice, someone pulling himself together enough to open the door handle behind him and pull them both into the room.

That's the rest of the invitation Demetri needs. He loves the sounds Fabrice makes already and has no doubt as he walks them toward the bed until the other man stops, his legs hitting the back of it. Finally Demetri lets go of Fabrice's hand, cupping his face as he kisses him, urging him to lay back on the bed. He's right, he thinks, Fabrice is going to look amazing naked and beneath him, but as much as he wants the other man now he's also determined to savor every second.

Demetri lowers himself with Fabrice, breaking away from the lips he finds so intriguing and enthralling to kiss again at the curve of his neck, his shoulder, to nip and lick at the collar bone, moving very purposefully downward. He doesn't ignore the scars either, though seeing them so raw and bright still hurts something within him. Demetri drags his mouth along the edge of one before catching Fabrice's nipple between his teeth, his eyes flicking upward to watch the reaction.

Fabrice can't stop the tiny whimpers escaping him as Demetri steers them towards the bed; he grasps at every inch of his skin he can reach, needing to touch every part of him as they kiss. The collision of his knees with his bed echoes throughout him, and he whimpers more loudly when Demetri pulls his hand away.

But then he's cupping his face again, and Fabrice is leaning into it, bringing his hands to tangle in Demetri's hair as he pulls the other man on top of him. He doesn't know what he's doing really, only guessing and relying on what he thinks the other man likes. He wants so much of Demetri, it burns deep in his belly, but he also yearns to commit every touch and kiss to memory. He wants to pull him closer, hold him for as long as time will allow him.

Fabrice gasps when Demetri breaks away to kiss at his neck again; he squirms beneath him, reaching to drag his hands down his hair to the nape of his neck, brushing along his shoulders as the other man moves down his body. He can hardly breathe, his face flushed and eyes wide with desire as he watches the other man. Then his teeth catch on his nipple, a feeling so novel and wondrous, Fabrice jolts, back arching as he lets out a series of moans, bringing his hands back to tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, wanting more of everything as he meets the gorgeous blue of Demetri's eyes.

There's a way Fabrice flushes and blanches as Demetri touches him that he finds as intoxicating as the sounds that escape him. His chest is paler than Demetri's own, and amidst soft hair are still a few of the freckles he's become so infatuated with. Demetri rests his cheek on Fabrice's chest, drawing a line from one to another. It leads across his stomach, then back finally (after what seems like ages of dragging his hand over soft, pale skin) down to the line of the other man's jeans.

Something makes him look up as he undoes them, some tension in his belly that he feels is echoed in Fabrice. It isn't that Demetri hasn't done this before, but this feels different. The simple joy he's taking in exploring every inch of skin with hands and then mouth so very different than the usual encounters he organises. He wants to learn every bit of Fabrice, wants him to know how important that is to him too.

Demetri teases the edge of fabric, kissing just beneath the scars, breathing warm against his belly as he slips his hand beneath denim, only the lightest of fabric between them now. "Alright?"

Just the way Demetri looks at him makes Fabrice feel like he's on the edge of life, about to fall over into it. It's a heady rush, and though it frightens him, he is now certain he wants it more than anything. The way he has been so considerate towards him, since they first talked, and now, laying in bed together. No one has ever considered him before the way Demetri does now, reverently, like he's a treasure to be cherished. It makes Fabrice flush more, brightens his eyes with adoration for the other man.

He plays with strands of Demetri's hair as Demtri runs his hand across his stomach, toying with hairs and freckles both. His chest tightens at the line he draws, right down to the edge of his jeans.

He meets Demetri's gaze and understands how much this matters to him as well; he gives an almost imperceptible nod at the other man, as if to assure him how much this means to him, how much he appreciates Demetri taking the time to explore his skin.

He shudders at the feel of his breath on his scars, at the edge of his stomach. It's a warm breeze, and it only heightens how he feels, wants. And then Demetri slips his hand beneath his pants, and he shivers, whimpering at the touch while a voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he has to mention his own inexperience, has to mention it now before anything else happens.

"You should know," he says, voice ragged and his entire body trembling, "I've never...done this before. But I want to," he insists, staring Demetri right in the eyes to show him how much he wants to.

That's a surprise and yet not. Fabrice has never been one to stand in the limelight, and being a Coombs and shy - even a bit different - had to be a difficult combination. Demetri knows the lengths he's gone to in order to hide the truth from his father and family. Sometimes he thinks he's lucky to have a friend in Lana, and access to a place where no questions are asked.

Thinking of her and their arrangement only highlights the difference he feels in this moment. Fabrice isn't what he expected, though he's not positive what that was. When he says that he's never done this, Demetri pauses, searching those heavily lidded eyes for any hint that he's not sure. All he sees is certainty, and it makes him wonder what kind of crazy chance pulled them together tonight and how dangerous it will be to let it continue. Because even now as he tugs off the other man's clothes, unbuttoning his own trousers so Fabrice doesn't feel as if he's the only one exposed, he knows he wants to see the other man again. More than like this, too, Demetri wants to see him laughing, to catch him distracted with a book, to curl up and sleep beside him...

A very dangerous game, he thinks as he reaches to twine one hand with Fabrice's. "Tell me to stop, if there's anything you don't want," he says softly. "I'll be gentle," he adds, before looking down and seeing the other man nude. His breath catches, and his stomach jumps. Demetri follows Fabrice's hip, taking time as he bites and sucks at the ridge that leads so helpfully downward. He moves his free hand between his legs, nudging them apart but still just teasing sensitive skin, his cheek brushing up the hard length of him. "Promise."

Fabrice lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding when Demetri doesn't back away. He knows that, as a Thornton with a job at the mayor's office, he is constantly socializing and making friends in all the right places, even if he probably has to do it behind his family's back. But though Fabrice is slightly intimidated by Demetri's obvious experience, he also finds himself wanting to reach out to the other man, provide an ear and a shoulder for what must have been difficult years balancing his job, the spotlight, and his family's expectations.

He meets Demetri's searching gaze head on, finding courage just from having the other man here, and so close to him. He knows that this is moving fast, that some crazy whirlwind brought them together like this after speaking today. But he finds himself grateful for it, grateful for the chance to realize how much he wants to know Demetri, in a manner more than just physically intimate. He finds himself wondering what his favorite color he is, how he falls asleep at night - what he looks like in the sun, relaxing on the beach and the wind blowing through his hair. He wants to hold his hand as he makes him laugh and to know his strategy when it comes to Monopoly and chess. He feels himself falling faster with every moment.

He squeezes his hand when Demetri brings them together, noting the odd, uneven way they fit so perfectly together. "I will," he assures him with a smile. His own breath falters when he hears Demetri's catch, and he shivers with greater force as Demetri sucks and bites along his hip, whimpers turning into moans as they escape him. His chest heaves and he gasps as Demetri moves his legs apart, back and neck both arching as his hand moves to stroke sensitive skin that has never before been touched. He can't keep his eyes from Demetri, how kind and beautiful he looks in that moment.

There's an added weight to this, knowing it is Fabrice's first time. Demetri can't explain how important it is that he enjoy himself, even more than Demetri's own gratification. Which is a first in itself, not normally the type to be that concerned about his partners, not since those first few times over a decade before that had gone so wrong. That wasn't to say he was a bad lover, but he was selfish. It's the opposite of what he feels now.

He tries things, his mouth following his hand in quick enough succession. Every time Fabrice makes a sound of pleasure, Demetri tries to make it intensify. Only when he thinks Fabrice is ready (and it seems to have taken hours and yet only seconds all at once) does he press inside with a finger, his movements slow and his eyes on the other man gauging his reaction. He tries to find that spot inside of him, waiting until he presses the second before finally closing his mouth over his cock, hoping the rush of pleasure will beat out any pain.

Fabrice never thought he would actually engage in sex quite as soon in life as he is, after years of awkward glances and polite refusals of offers from various guests at one of a few of Violet Coombs grand affairs that he actually bothered to attend. But tonight, with Demetri, it just feels natural, right, to grow so close so soon. He's nervous, of course he is. But he's also excited, too, and he can't keep himself from trembling and reacting to each of Demetri's touches and kisses, taken aback by and savoring his own new boldness.

He moves his hands all over Demetri that he can reach, wanting to touch him and give him as much pleasure as he's bestowing upon him. When Demetri starts doing unspeakably amazing things with his mouth, Fabrice starts moaning, his voice cracking with each new press of lips against his pale skin.

Then he feels the finger slowly, but surely, slipping inside of him. Fabrice tenses at first, unused to such a feeling. It hurts a bit, but not as much as he was expecting, and so he's able to breathe out and relax a bit, hoping to make it easier for Demetri. And then his mouth closes over him, and Fabrice's hips snap towards that delicious heat of their own accord, his mind wracked with pleasure and the sensations running through his blood like lightening. One hand clenches in the sheets around him as he moans, the other entangling in Demetri's hair.

"Oh God," he gasps, feeling wanton and alive as his head falls back onto the pillows.

Demetri has been thinking about this all night, ever since they ran into each other in the street. It's been worth it, but he's not willing to be done yet as much as the way he's making Fabrice writhe is sending waves of heat through him.

"That's not my name," he whispers, the teasing tone back as he pulls his mouth away, as he moves to reach for his pants. He's never been a boy scout, but he thinks he should get a badge for always being prepared. Though if Fabrice thinks on why Demetri carries condoms and a slim foil packet of lube in his wallet it may cause a few awkward questions. That is, if he doesn't expect it, expect Demetri to be that way something he finds disappointing even though the subject hasn't been broached.

Demetri crawls up Fabrice's body, kissing his chest, biting at his nipple again. He uses the time to slip the condom on, to rip open the small packet and let the cool liquid spill into his hand. His mouth finds the other man's and he moans in anticipation when he presses with his fingers again. This isn't how he does this usually, not chest to chest, not looking the other man in the eyes. It's personal and it feels exactly as it should feel with Fabrice as crazy as that sounds. "Are you sure?"

Fabrice knew that, when he responded in kind to Demetri's initial flirtation, that he was initiating a connection much more physical than the others in his life; he never imagined it would lead to this amount of physical closeness, nor that he would wind up craving it so much from this man. But he does, and the way Demetri looks at him, that intense, blue gaze focused solely on him, increases the amount of pleasure wrought from his every movement.

"Demetri," he whispers in response, because the additional teasing only renders him more breathless, more susceptible to the shivers running through him. The other man's name on his tongue makes him feel reckless in a way he never needed to feel before now.

He isn't surprised by the appearance of the foil and the lubrication; he knows Demetri's reputation by now, and knows more that he makes use of these items on other men. As much as part of him yearns to keep Demetri to himself, he also realizes that it isn't Demetri's way, and he finds that he doesn't mind the idea, as long as he can get to know Demetri better himself, come to understand him and grow closer to him in the meantime, in his own time. Fabrice finds that he just relishes Demetri's attention, no matter how he might have to go about relishing it.

As Demetri crawls up his body, his movements teasing and slow, Fabrice brings his arms to wrap around his back, tugging him in closer as they kiss again, long, slow, and for Fabrice, full of a desperate longing. He writhes again when he feels Demetri's fingers, cool from the liquid now coating them. As he keeps his eyes on Demetri's, Fabrice feels about ready to fall over the edge of a cliff.

"Yes," he whimpers, rather than speaks, his voice strained with want and desires he can't begin to name. "Please."

"Fabrice," he's been holding off on saying the other man's name until now. Until his moment where he feels himself inside of him. Demetri is deliberate, forcing himself to not push how he wants to. It's insane and intense, moreso than he's been imagining it. But it's something he can only keep to for so long, each time he buries himself deeper, moves slightly faster.

His kisses are near-frantic, a hand finding Fabrice's yet again and pressing it back into the bed over their heads, holding it there. He's losing control, and not in the way that he usually does. Fabrice's mouth on his own, his whimpers and cries, they're overwhelming. There's no artifice to the other man, and because of that Demetri can keep his own walls in place either. He doesn't want to. "You-" he whispers and cries, the two blending together. "You are amazing."

"Demetri," he cries out, unable to keep himself from saying the other man's name, his entire body snapping up when the other man enters him, pronouncing his name in the same breath. At first, it hurts, but as Demetri continues moving inside of him, Fabrice finds himself savoring the tension, both inside of himself and in the heat burning between their two bodies.

He keeps whimpering and moaning into the other man's mouth, kissing him with the same sense of urgency. He whines as Demetri pushes their hands together into the bed, overwhelmed by the sheer potency of their entwined hands, the way the gesture echoes throughout his own body. He drags his other hand down Demetri's back, grasping and pulling at the bare flesh that feels so exquisite in between his fingers. He finds himself lifting his legs and wrapping them around the other man's waist, needing him deeper inside of him, closer, urging him to go faster, harder as his hips rise to meet his thrusts.

His shudders increase at Demtri's words, unable to process that someone like Demetri, someone so poised, considerate, and beloved by the town, could think so much of him, one cat away from becoming a recluse.

"You," he gasps in between moans, "you are wonderful and amazing."

There's little value to the love of many. It was a house of cards, ready to tumble down at the first gust of wind. Being rich and powerful earned him enemies, and his position with the mayor gained him toadies. The two groups overlapped and intermingled until the only people Demetri trusted were his siblings. It meant that even though he was always surrounded by acquaintances and those who wanted him for his name and all that it entailed, he was rarely around friends.

Tonight was different. Fabrice wasn't an ally or an enemy, and he also wasn't someone who only wanted Demetri for the benefit it might bring. He was smart enough, Demetri hoped, to see the complications that this could bring to both their lives. Yet he believes that Fabrice is here in spite of all of that. Because of a few flirtatious words and touches that had set them both afire.

When he can't hold on any longer, Demetri gives in. He cries out, still moving inside of Fabrice, the last few strokes the deepest. It's all over too quickly, though his laboured breathing and sweat slick chest tell him otherwise.

Fabrice knows the power of a surname; his own is just as embedded in this town as is that of Demetri. He hails from a powerful line of witches, some of whom are willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want. He knows the town has reason to distrust and fear the name of Coombs, which is why he mostly keeps to himself.

Tonight, though. Tonight is a turning point in his life, Fabrice knows it. Demetri, in spite of his intimidating position within the hierarchy of the town's structure, Demetri makes him want to prove himself to the world, makes him want to put himself out in the world to begin with. Yes, considering their surnames, this would certainly ensnare both of them into complications. Yet, Fabrice is determined; Demetri reached out to him when he made an offer, something no one besides his cousins had ever done before. They've both bared themselves tonight, in more ways than one, and though it would inevitably come with consequences, Fabrice was damn sure he was willing to fight just to be able to keep a hold of Demetri.

He feels the rush of Demetri's movements as he comes, and that sets off his own undoing. Fabrice tightens his legs around his waist and digs his hand into his back, entire body arching as he cries out Demetri's name in time with his own release, body trembling and chest heaving when it's over.

"Oh my God," he pants, moving his hand from Demetri's back to stroke through sweat soaked hair. "That was incredible."

This is the moment when everything changes. When he doesn't pull away and fish for his clothes, or ask where the shower is so he can clean up before he goes. Demetri is giddy already from the sex, and pulling back just enough to twist them onto their sides amplifies that feeling.

He touches Fabrice's face as he did earlier tonight on the street. Only this time he trails the tips of his fingers across his lips, swollen from kissing and even more attractive. "Yes," he says with s smile, aching where he's pulled away from the other's body, twisting their legs together, lying face to face. "Yes, it was."

Fabrice Coombs, in the study, with an overly large magical tome. {For Demetri}

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