THERE IS A VERY BAD TREND DEVELOPING HERE
“You need to stop, Bookman,” Tyki hissed, pressed flush against the other man. His hand was phased through the redhead’s chest, fingers just barely brushing the membrane surrounding his heart. Death threat non-withstanding the position was entirely too intimate for the historian’s liking, an uncomfortable flush tinting his otherwise impassive face. Fortunately his fear didn’t reach his voice.
“It’s my job.”
“Do your fucking job somewhere else,” the Noah snarled, fingers tightening around the organ for half a second before releasing it completely. He removed his hand a moment later, pushing it hard against Bookman’s shoulder. He lowered his head to taste and tease along the other’s neck, dragging his tongue along his skin in a gesture that would have been provocative if it wasn’t so overwhelmingly aggressive.
“I’m not allowed to kill you,” the words were mumbled into flesh, harsh and angry- a twisting of tones that spoke volumes of the speaker’s shaky mental state. “But don’t think,” and here Tyki’s head raised, catching the younger man’s gaze with eyes that were half-gone, glazed over with monstrous intent. He leaned in closer, hands that were really no longer his wandering up to run through Bookman’s hair, fingers curling in it harshly. When he spoke again he was gone, not Tyki but Joyd. “Don’t think I won’t find other ways to make your time here hell.”
The Noah dropped his hold on the redhead suddenly, stepping back. He gave him a Chesire grin that wasn’t Tyki at all and sunk down into the floor, leaving Bookman sighing and very nearly shaking with relief.
“Bastard,” he muttered, slowly leaning his head back to rest against the wall where he’d been pinned moments before. This job is going to be the death of me.
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EDIT: Related image goes here♥
