Monty’s hands were in his hair, so Ishmael dragged them back towards an alcove of the house and pulled him closer. For all he prided himself on being shrewd and clever and sharp-witted, maybe his self-control was lacking here, because at that remark, he only leaned into Monty and laughed. “I don’t care about them,” Ishmael said, and the worst thing was that it was not entirely untrue. “I only want you.”
He caught Monty’s mouth with his for a moment, let his hands begin to roam; but thereafter returned to his neck, raking his fangs against skin. Not a real bite this time, not enough to draw blood yet – just taking Monty’s skin in his teeth and sucking on the spot and considering it. But this was a dangerous game to play, thinking about drinking from him and saying things like I only want you, and Ishmael was half afraid Monty would call him out for it. But not forever, Monty might say, and what could Ishmael answer to that?
He caught Monty’s mouth with his for a moment, let his hands begin to roam; but thereafter returned to his neck, raking his fangs against skin. Not a real bite this time, not enough to draw blood yet – just taking Monty’s skin in his teeth and sucking on the spot and considering it. But this was a dangerous game to play, thinking about drinking from him and saying things like I only want you, and Ishmael was half afraid Monty would call him out for it. But not forever, Monty might say, and what could Ishmael answer to that?
