He woke groggily, when someone touch his bare hip. He froze, completely aware that it was not Nikolaus, although how he knew, he could not say.
He could dimly see the guttered candles on the other side of the bed, but there was a glow behind him, lending faint and flickering light to the room.
Nestled up to Nikolaus, held tightly against his chest, he had felt safe. Until now. He knew all too well who was behind him, who touched him with such possessive familiarity. Fingers trailed over his buttock, tracing his flesh, and he could hear harsh breathing picking up behind him, l**t thick in the air.
His fingers tightened upon Nikolaus, but he made no other move, afraid that if Nikolaus woke up, then Melville would harm him.
Hopefully, the bastard would find the leavings of their lovemaki
