CHAPTER 194: CHAPTER 189: THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM (1)

The door had barely clicked shut when Damian’s hand found Gabriel’s waist, firm, a silent command laced with desire.

Gabriel didn’t get a breath in before his back hit the wood, the world narrowing to Damian’s body crowding in, his palm splayed low over Gabriel’s spine, the other hand rising to cup the side of his neck.

The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It was deliberate.

Gabriel’s fingers curled into Damian’s shirt instinctively. "We just had dessert," he murmured against Damian’s lips, the words barely formed, breath hitching as teeth scraped lightly along the corner of his mouth.

Damian’s voice was a rumble, low and amused. "I’m still hungry."

His mouth pressed back to Gabriel’s, more insistent now, one knee nudging between Gabriel’s thighs to part them gently. The heat between them surged, slow but consuming, like an ember coaxed into a blaze.

"You’re impatient," Gabriel whispered, his words sliding into a soft gasp as Damian’s lips traced the curve of his jaw, finding the sensitive spot just beneath his ear.

Damian’s breath ghosted over Gabriel’s skin, hot and deliberate. "I’ve been patient all day," he murmured, his voice dark with intent. "A day of holding back, listening to incompetence, pretending I didn’t want to pin you to the nearest wall."

His hand slid lower, gripping Gabriel’s thigh and pulling him in tighter. The heat of his body pressed fully against Gabriel’s now, and there was no hiding how much he meant it.

Gabriel’s hand found the back of Damian’s neck, fingers threading through the dark hair there. His eyes fluttered half-shut, breath unsteady as he tilted his head, offering more.

"I thought this was a date," he whispered.

Damian smiled against his skin. "It was."

"Then this is the part where you walk me home."

"But I did; we are at home now." He nipped lightly at Gabriel’s throat, not hard enough to mark—yet—but enough to make his mate’s body react with a shiver.

"Sure, sure. And now it’s the moment where we test the furniture again?" Asked Gabriel, his warm breath sending shivers down the Emperor’s spine.

Damian hummed, the sound low and far too pleased with himself. His hands slipped around Gabriel’s waist, fitting over the curves of his hips like they’d been carved to match. "Only the essentials," he said, brushing his mouth once more along Gabriel’s neck. "Structural integrity is important."

Gabriel laughed under his breath, the sound trailing into a breathless sigh as Damian’s fingers gripped his shirt and tugged him closer.

"I wanted to change the furniture anyway." Damian said as he shoved a bewildered Gabriel into the mattress. He didn’t realize when the alpha moved so fast, he teleported them near the bed.

Gabriel let out a sharp, startled laugh as his back hit the mattress. "Gods, you don’t even give a man time to protest."

Damian leaned over him, braced on one arm, golden eyes glinting with something half-wicked, half-worshipful. "You never protest when I do it properly."

Gabriel’s breath hitched as Damian’s knee pressed between his thighs again, firm and sure, and the mattress dipped under the weight of his body. His pheromones started to fill the room. Dark, full of intent, leaving Gabriel breathless.

Gabriel’s fingers curled into Damian’s shirt, breath catching as that rich, dark scent rolled over him—intoxicating, unmistakable, and so utterly Damian that it made the air feel heavier. Thicker. Like he’d been pulled under a tide he didn’t want to escape.

"Damian..." he warned, or tried to, but it came out softer than intended. It sounded like a plea rather than a warning.

"I’m not doing anything yet," Damian murmured against his skin, but his mouth betrayed him—lips brushing just under Gabriel’s jaw, tongue tasting the line of his throat. "You started this. Showing up in that shirt. Sitting in my chair. Smiling like you didn’t know exactly what it does to me."

Gabriel swallowed hard, his pulse jumping under Damian’s mouth. "I was being good."

"You were being cruel," Damian corrected, dragging his nose along Gabriel’s neck, where his scent gland pulsed warm beneath the skin. "And I’ve had a very long day."

Gabriel tried to respond, something clever, something scathing, but Damian’s thigh shifted, pressing higher between his legs, and the words caught in his throat.

His own scent flared instinctively, tangled in the air now with Damian’s—earthy, sharp, and unguarded.

Their bond pulled tight between them, a thread straining against its limits.

"Say stop," Damian murmured, even as he leaned in closer, his voice low and raw at the edges. "Or I’m going to ruin your shirt."

Gabriel arched into him with a breathless laugh, his fingers sliding up into Damian’s hair, tucking his head to his face, and kissing the emperor’s mouth, Gabriel still tasting the wine he had consumed before.

Damian groaned into the kiss—low, guttural, and almost reverent.

Gabriel’s mouth was warm, parted with hunger and intention, the taste of red wine still lingering on his tongue like a provocation. He kissed like he meant to win something. Or take it. And Damian let him.

For a moment.

Then he deepened it—one hand still braced above Gabriel’s head, the other sliding beneath the hem of that now-doomed shirt, palm dragging up over smooth skin and lean muscle. The heat of Gabriel’s body rose to meet him, chasing away the last threads of discipline Damian had been clinging to since he’d walked out of the study.

Gabriel tilted his head to breathe, his lips brushing Damian’s jaw. "You were saying something about ruining it?"

Damian’s voice was a whisper against his skin, a low vow made between breaths. "I’m not ruining anything. I’m claiming what’s already mine."

He kissed him again, slower this time, but no less intense, his hips pressing Gabriel deeper into the mattress. The scent in the room had shifted entirely now: bonded, heated, a storm in the making.

And when Gabriel moaned softly against his mouth, pulling him down with both hands like he couldn’t stand even the inch of space between them, Damian thought—to hell with the shirt.

It didn’t last another minute.