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Summary
“You’re making a mess,” Pran says, darkly.
“Why don’t you help me clean up, then?” Pat means for it to sound like a challenge, but it falls flat because of how breathless he is.
Pran regards Pat quietly for a moment, eyes roaming all over Pat’s face — long enough for Pat to squirm underneath the weight of his stare. He gasps sharply when Pran leans in to lick a slow, hot stripe up the side of his neck.
Well, that’s certainly one way to clean up, Pat thinks faintly, when Pran looks back at him with a hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Was that helpful?” Pran asks innocently.
.............
On days like this, Pran seems to enjoy the control — how Pat turns to putty in his hands, under his mouth, completely succumbing to his heat.