The first time they take a fistful of auburn curls and pull, Julian takes it as a signal to stop despite the moan that rumbles low in his throat. He breaks the kiss with a gasp, hooded eye peering down at them as a crimson blush blooms on porcelain skin.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “are you sure you-”
His question is interrupted by hungry lips as they swallow down his doubts. Another yank from fingers woven in his hair causes an intoxicating pain to ripple over his scalp and down his spine, causing him to shiver. Julian’s arms tighten around them, pressing them flush against him. He feels every movement, every heave of their chest, every increasingly desperate roll of hips against his tall, broad form, yet somehow, it feels as though they still are not close enough.
It catches him by surprise when teeth sink into his bottom lip, and his knees nearly buckle at the taste of blood on their tongue.
“Please,” he pants when they finally part, “I need you.”