Byron groaned loudly as Conor bit down on his shoulder, tearing into the skin in the most painful and beautiful way. The new sticky and wet sensation spilt over his skin, mixing with the blood smeared between them.
It did not take much more of the new attack on him for Byron to follow. A wave of the molten feeling in his stomach swooshed forward. Byron grabbed and twisted Conor's hair, pulling him into his own bite- to get one last drink from the Fae- as his heat released out of him and over Conor's hand.
"Fuck,' he breathed out, catching his breath once more. "Don't be surprised if I show up at you trailer some nights with a knife. I think I prefer you this way opposed to the collared type."