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    Summary

    Mydei huffs and reaches up to smooth his hair out, fingers scraping along the base of black horns to watch Phainon's eyes close of their own accord. A soft exhale, head tilting into Mydei's palm.

    So easy.

    He tugs on a strand of white hair, and Phainon doesn't even react. He trails his hand lower, hooks one finger into the choker resting snug against Phainon's neck. Yanks on it to have Phainon lean closer, eyes snapping open.

    Without having to look, Mydei's fingers easily find and press against the burning skin where the sun mark rests. Its outline used to be a vibrant gold, now faded into a silvery white.

    "You are losing your gold, Khaslana."

     

    or; Prince of Hell Mydei and fallen angel Phainon grow perhaps too close to one another

    Series
    Language:
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