Cheshire grinned at Damien's reaction, leaning in to lick a long line up the scratch marks with his sandpaper tongue, his body moving to lay flush over Damien's as he reached the younger man's lips, gently lapping at them as a kitten would it's mother's skin, before giving a brush of his fangs over Damien's plump pink lips, a purr rumbling in his chest.
“You're gorgeous,” he whispered, nibbling his way down Damien's jaw and throat, pausing over the cardioid artery, giving another brush a fangs, a warning to how easily he could tear out the man's throat, before moving down to a nipple.
There was a shift of movement before Cheshire wrapped his mouth around the pert flesh, his as cold as the ice cube resting inside.