Ownership

Erotic short. Aimé already knew who he belonged to.

460 words. Jean-Pierre Delacroix and Aimé Deverell — possessive behaviour, biting, public sex, and teasing.

God bless crazy fucking angels.

Aimé can’t help the laugh that comes out from his throat as Jean-Pierre crowds him out through the back door, making it slam against the brick a half-second before Aimé slams against the opposite wall, Jean-Pierre leaning down into his space.

“Stop fucking laughing,” growls Jean, tangling his hand in Aimé’s hair and hauling his head back before he goes teeth-first for his throat, dragging his mouth down until he reaches the juncture of Aimé’s shoulder and he digs his teeth right in.

Aimé’s laugh becomes a moan of pain, and he grinds his hips into Jean-Pierre’s hand where it’s squeezing him through his joggers.

“Fucking ridiculous,” hisses Jean-Pierre. “How dare she look at you like that?”

“How dare she?” Aimé agrees, and he doesn’t even try to touch l’ange back, just sits back against the wall and enjoys the rage misdirected at his body, feels the heat under his skin, feels his blood pulse eagerly, because fuck, is it something to be this wanted, this possessed, something to be this territorial over. “How dare that woman stand next to me at the bar, Jean, for all the world like she was thinking of getting a drink?”

“She touched you,” hisses l’ange, fury flaring in his pretty blue eyes, and…