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Summary
Naim froze beneath the intense focus as those eyes traced slow, deliberate lines down his body— from his exposed throat to the dip of his collarbone, down his chest, and then back up again, and he wonders if he's picking up the correct whisper in his ear from across the room, that he's being eaten with his eyes, deconstructed with a look, laid bare in the mind of another for all of the Angels to see.
They meet at a concert. They meet again at a concert.
God is watching, but they don't care.