#strangebound

"Not like I'm contagious," Ramiro told Arwyn, leaning back onto the railing, "unless you're into that. Kinky, even for you." While he never cared much for boundaries, he kept his distance—out of principle, out of the perverse delight in watching others squirm under temptation. Nothing but a solid two meters and the night's fog between them now. He nursed the stub of a cigarette, ash dropping to his boot, each ember a tiny sun in the urban dark. Inhale, exhale, and repeat as the toxins sank into his lungs. "You're the one who wanted the tour. Or did you just want to see me?"

Fighting down a smile, Cameron tried not to show how much the threat worked on him. He stared straight ahead at the television, every muscle in his body tuned to the heat of Archie's thigh against his. It was just a sliver of contact, but it made the rest of his skin feel electric. His right hand stilled in midair, unsure if it wanted to reach for the bowl of popcorn or for Archie again. He didn't want to be the one to break first, didn't want to give them that satisfaction, even if he already imagined giving in, just once, to see what would happen. "Didn't realize you were so easily distracted," he said, allowing his knees to fall a little wider apart, a silent invitation for attention. "Thought betas had more self-control."