Adin looked up at Donte, who was then in the middle of taking a sip of his wine. He took in Dontes demonically beautiful face, long and angular, with its hooded eyes and high cheekbones, its wine-darkened lips. He watched as Donte savored it, imagining the warmth of the wine on the inside of Dontes mouth and against his tongue. He could almost feel it as it slid down the column of Dontes throat, teasing his Adams apple into a subtle bob, and suddenly Adin was the wine, slipping down that throat, and just as inexplicably, Adin felt Dontes mouth on him everywhere at once, bitinglickingsucking. Adins breath sped up; his skin warmed with the beginnings of a flush brought on by arousal.
