" It’s your business if you wanna pretend you’re not queer.”
Wrong. Thing. To. Say.
His growl echoes on the tiled walls and he makes a move to charge forward only to stop himself feet away from me. Nostrils flared; lips curled back. Delicious anger staring at me. I’m a sick cub for finding him sexy.
“You know nothing, Fierro. Keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll do it for you, got it?”
I smile and he’s further pissed off as I watch his eyes crinkle.
Pity he’s a jerk, he really is hot.
“Whatever you say. Try not to remember how I taste later, yeah?”
It’s me who leaves first, brushing by his shoulder and he hisses another curse.
His threats today don’t work on me, they never do.
He’s like a posturing animal trying to exert his dominance.
I never guessed he’d succeed with his tongue in my mouth.
Stranger things have happened, but never did I think I’d end up making out with my tormentor. "
― V. Theia , Manhattan Tormentor (From Manhattan #7)