Instead his gaze dipped downward, a near-palpable touch to Seong-Jae’s lips, paired with an audible hitch to his breaths, their edges turning ragged. Malcolm’s hands clenched against Seong-Jae’s clothing, just a subtle flex of strength as his fingers dug in, and the pit of Seong-Jae’s stomach turned far too warm, heat stealing over him. “Seong-Jae,” Malcolm breathed, and the rough, hungry edge on his name made Seong-Jae’s heart give an entirely distressing flip. “…Malcolm…?”
