The air between them thickened, becoming something heavier than talk. Dax's pheromones, which were dark, intoxicating, and laced with command, coiled through the space, making a silent, physical assertion that completely bypassed debate. It was an old trick, but it still worked because Chris's body was and had always been a traitor, particularly to Dax.
"No," Chris said, the word lacking any conviction.
Dax's smile was a slow, predatory thing. He didn't argue. He simply lowered his head and inhaled at Chris's neck and shoulder, making a deep, possessive sound that vibrated through Chris's bones. "Liar."
The accusation was a kiss against his skin, hot and open-mouthed. Chris's hands came up clutching at the open panels of Dax's shirt, his fingers digging into the hard, warm planes of his husband's chest. He could feel the steady, loud beat of Dax's heart and the heat coming off of him like a furnace.
