Ashton's grip tightened when Barclay moved, but then let go, steadily getting his breath back under control. Finally he opened his eyes and looked at Barclay, green eyes mixed with silver and dark with arousal. His control was fragile just then, but he had it, the memory of losing that control before being real enough in his mind to keep him from doing anything impulsively. Ashton had learned that in this, if he gave in immediately like he had with Trent, that it would only lead to pain. Barclay was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt and lose because of his lack of control.
Swallowing hard and inclining his head, Ashton nodded. "Very well," he breathed out.