Penny Dreadful (Ethan/Dorian)
He hadn’t seen Mr. Gray since that blurry night, and could almost believe it had been a dream. Too much wine, dim and unreliable memories, madness gnawing at his mind.
He’d heard of it happening in some of the Indian tribes, but had dismissed it as typical native strangeness. Until Mr. Gray- until Dorian had looked at him, and the music-
Hot breath in his mouth. Blunt fingernails trailing down his chest. Pressure, intense and aching with pleasure. His own voice, strangled with lust, crying out as he unspooled into Dorian’s hand, again and again.