"You won't touch me?"
The pain in Xazriel's voice sounded real enough to fool him— had Logre of been anyone else. The time he spent with the guild may not have been long, but it was long enough that he knew to take most of what the nightseeker said with a grain of salt, even his flirting. Especially his flirting.
The boy was an incubus in nearly every sense, except for actually being an incubus (which sometimes even Logre had doubted). His ivory skin, the way his pale hair draped over his shoulders and framed his face, his garnet eyes; Logre was lucky he was a strong man and refused to fall prey to him. That's all he was, prey. He figured if he ignored him long enough, Xazriel would grow bored and move on to somebody else.
He was persistent, Logre would give him that much. He had good tactics, too. It was kind of hard to ignore somebody who decided to utilize his lap as a seat.
"I told you, I am not interested in other men." He responded dismissively, his lack of interest clear.
"You say that but," Xazriel scoffed, "Your body is telling me differently."
"You're grinding against me."
It was also difficult to hide any responses he scorned his body for when a man was pressed sultrily against him and lightly grinding their crotches together.
Logre did not look at Xazriel, doing so would make him think his actions were okay, so when he felt a weight leave his thighs, a relieved sigh began to leave his lips only to be cut off when he felt bony fingers grip his shoulders. It was then he looked at him, to be be greeted with the sight of his ashen cheeks flushed a deep red, almost as if he were embarrassed. It was part of his coy act, Logre thought, the very idea that Xazriel would be abashed about anything was risible.
Suddenly, the nightseeker's hips began swaying in fluid motions, barely hovering above the lap they previously rested on.
Logre sighed, and a hand slinked under Xazriel's arm to press against his own forehead. "What are you doing?"
"I saw a dancer girl do this," he explained, "The man struggled to keep his hands off her!"
"So you thought it would work with me?" Logre asked rhetorically, his voice lilted with restrained laughter, "You are not a whore I am spending seven hundred entals on."
Xazriel's movements stopped for a second and his coquettish smile was replaced by a parted frown. It was only for a second however, and his lips curled into another grin.
"You are right," he laughed, "You do not have to pay anything for me."
As his hips resumed their erratic dance, Xazriel pressed his lips into Logre's neck and lightly sucked on the skin there. The imperial informed him it'd be of his best interest to not leave any marks, but a giggle indicating doubt he would do anything was his only response.
His thin arms wrapped around the other man. When he sat himself against his lap once more and briefly ground roughly against him, Logre could have sworn he heard a whine mixed with the hot breath that blew against his ear. Xazriel arched and pressed his chest against Logre's. Then, all movement stopped.
That was a first: he was embracing Logre.
It confused him, left him wordless, and silence filled the room save for the thumping muffled against Logre's chest— which definitely was not coming from him, as damned as the realization was.
"Your heart is racing." was all Logre could think to say.
"Because it's you."
Damn, he was good. There was absolutely no reason why those words should have made him feel the way they did, especially since they were coming from Xazriel, but they did. His hands tentatively rose up to the younger's shoulders and gently pushed him away.
The redness of his face and the apprehensive look in his eyes was enough to set him on edge.
Logre slowly leaned his face in closer to Xazriel's, whose body momentarily shook, and—
"Xazriel? Logre?"
Xazriel practically jumped off Logre's lap, nearly falling as he turned to face an aghast arcanist standing at the doorway.
"W – what is it, Nyet?" His voice cracked as he struggled to regain his composure. That nearly failed when he realized he had a hard-on pressed tight against his leather pants.
"Did I...interrupt something?" She asked, her voice shaking with embarrassment.
Xazriel quickly answered "no", but Logre chimed in with a bitter "yes".
Later that same week, their ears were burning.