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Like a thunderstorm bursting from rain-swollen clouds.
Washing away all the pain; erasing the sorrows and regrets of the past like tides clearing footprints in the sands of a beach.
Both of their minds had been blank, then. Of hatred, vengeance and madness.
Was it any wonder that Sin wanted it again?
And again, and again, and again.
Clearly, by the evidence of his body’s reaction to Sin’s proximity, the Hunter wanted it too.
Sin stalked closer, moving purposefully, slowly, making the Hunter fully aware of his approach.
The Dark One put aside his freshly washed clothes, laying them out on the grass beside the boulder, and stood, facing Sin.
Letting him come to him. Holding his ground.
Always, the Hunter held his ground.
It was one of the things Sin reluctantly admired about the male. He was ten times stronger, heavier, if he chose to use his liger weight, and always armed with sharp teeth and claws.
But the Hunter never showed fear or hesitation. He always saw them as equals. He always gave as good as he got.
It was hard not to admire this about one’s enemy. Hard not to find it irresistibly attractive. If the male wasn’t a hated Dark One… If he wasn’t a Hunter…
Sin’s long-dead heart gave a painful kick. Reminding him that, no matter how he’d existed over the past decades, he was still very muchalive.
And then, they were standing toe to toe, almost touching but not quite. Their erections pulsed between them, hard against their bellies.
Sin could smell both their arousal, practically crackling like dancing flames, saturating the air with their mating musk, the heady aroma of sex, clean sweat and hot skin.
Holding the Hunter’s dark stare, he took the last step, making their bodies flush against one another from shoulders, chest, and stomach to hips and thighs.
Their hard cocks rubbed against each other, making Sin bite back a groan at the mind-numbing pleasure.
He could feel the other male’s wetness on his own sensitized skin. He could feel himself leaking onto the Hunter’s satiny skin as well.
Gods’ balls, but he wanted this!
He’d never wanted anything more.
Not even when he was mad with hatred and revenge, sorrow and loss. Those were the feelings of the walking dead. A wraith who sought to punish those who had wronged him, who had taken from him.
Now, this burning, seethingneed…it was evidence that he was stillalive.
He breathed. He hurt. He hungered.
And he wanted.
Hecraved.
He reached up one hand to thread his fingers into the Hunter’s shaggy, shoulder-length waves, his palm cupping this back of the male’s head.
The Dark One didn’t flinch and didn’t move away, but the wary defiance in his eyes said that Sin touched him only because he allowed it.
He wanted this too.
“Tell me your name,” Sin husked out loud, his words barely an animalistic growl.
