"You're doing this on purpose," Arion said quietly.
Dean blinked slowly, lashes lowering in mock innocence. "Doing what."
Arion's gaze flicked once to Dean's mouth, then back up, jaw tightening. "Provoking me."
Dean's smile widened. "Is it working?"
Arion didn't answer.
Instead, he took a measured step closer, as if gravity ate distance. The air shifted. Dean's body responded immediately, scent warming under the suppressant, pulse jumping like it had been waiting for permission.
Dean didn't hide it.
He let Arion see the reaction.
He wanted Arion to see it.
Arion stopped close enough that Dean could feel the heat of him without being touched. Close enough that the room felt smaller just because Arion existed in it.
Dean tipped his chin up slightly, as if offering.
"Go on," Dean murmured. "Fix it."
Arion's eyes darkened. "You're in pre-heat."
Dean's smile turned sharp. "And you're in control." He raised a hand and placed it on Arion's chest. "And very sexy while brooding."
