Barclay's attentions in the cab had caused Ashton to grip the seat tightly, fingers flexing and unflexing as his lips parted as if to make a sound and when he was ready to just turn to Barclay and have his own way in return, the cab stopped at the house. The witch was the only being alive, except maybe Blake, who could control the dragon so effortlessly.
He moved up the walk to the door, fingers latched onto Barclay's belt like snagged claws and, once they were finally inside, he took a long taste of his witch, exploring his mouth with familiar ease and a soft groan.
"No," he growled a bit, mouth still close to Barclay's as he backed Barclay against the wall like he was cornering his prey, head slightly bent. The dragon hooked his fingers into Barclay's shirt and tugged it up, spreading his fingers over the warm skin he found beneath as his hips pressed forward needily. "No, I'm not sure," Ashton responded in full.
He hungrily claimed Barclay's mouth again with his own, snagging the druid's leg to lift and twine around his waist as he pressed him into the wall with his hips. Trent had taught Ashton that there was more to sex than just the act. There was this thing called foreplay. This very enjoyable and brilliant thing called foreplay. Ashton greatly enjoyed employing it on Barclay. His clever witch would become unraveled and wild and Ashton would feel very smart indeed to catch Barclay unawares with how he moved his lips, tongue, teeth, fingers and fingernails over his bare skin.
"Come, Barclay," he moved his witch away from the wall and ushered him down the hallway, not letting him out of his grasp.