Damian was panting now. Hard. His hand fisted white against the table's edge, its scars still healing, but it wasn't restraint anymore; it was desperation.
Gabriel moved like heat incarnate, dragging his mouth along Damian's cock with torturous precision. Licking. Sucking. Pausing just enough to let the air touch wet skin before taking him back in, slow and deep. His nails curled lightly at Damian's hips, not holding him in place; there was no need, Gabriel had control over him.
The scent in the room was thickening. Heat-heavy. Sweet and sharp with omega bloom, but threaded now with something darker—something that wasn't just Gabriel.
Damian's pheromones cracked like a fault line.
"Stop," he rasped, rather a plea than a command.
Gabriel stilled. Pulled off slowly, lips swollen, breath hot against Damian's skin. Then he stood with a lazy elegance that didn't match the flush creeping up his neck or the way his robe now clung to him with sweat and want.
