Luciano fixed his gaze on the mortal beneath him whose face was flushed with heat and whose chest was moving up and down from breathing heavily after ejaculating. His raven hair was dishevelled, strands clinging to his damp forehead. His full, swollen lips were parted, emitting soft pants that sent shivers down his spine. The purplish bruise which bloomed on the column of his throat was a mark that proudly declared his surrender to his touch.
He turned his hand around, looking at the cum dripping down his fingers onto the lines in his abdomen.
The air was thick with the scent of their arousal, a heady fragrance that fuelled the fire burning within him. Luciano wanted to commit every detail to memory—the way his muscles tensed ever so slightly under him and the soft sighs that escaped his lips as though he was trying to catch his breath. He could barely keep his eyes off him, naked and bare before him on the rumpled bedsheets.
