Asterion's skin was warm against my tongue, the velvety bristles of his fur pricking in one direction, silk in another, and suddenly I realized I was kissing his throat, sucking his flesh. Asterion's chest swelled for a moment, his arm squeezing, and then a long and rough groan melted into my ear. "We should—I should—" Asterion's breaths came quicker, and with them the néktar, sweet and syrupy, gathering on my tongue and sliding down to coat my cavernous hunger. I thought his stuttering words would call a stop to my feasting on his skin, but now that I was drinking him down I couldn't bear the
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