Obiora wanted to do something reckless. His eyes dropped to Ejiro’s bared throat; it would be so easy to kiss him there, just a slight brush of lips—so slight Ejiro might wonder if he’d imagined the contact. But even if Ejiro’s body might want him, Obiora didn’t want to take that as consent; he wanted explicit words of desire from Ejiro’s mouth. He wanted Ejiro to beg to be touched, the way he so clearly, desperately wanted to be.
