It couldn’t be called a kiss. It was a devouring, a feast of the senses, and Tristan was helpless against it. Damon lifted him to his toes, pressing...his thick, jeans-covered erection against his as he gave him a taste of the hunger to come with his kiss.Tristan couldn’t breathe. He didn’t want to breathe.For that fraction of time, it was just the two of them, and Tristan gave himself completely to Damon. His kiss was like rough velvet and summer lightning. His taste was dark, heady. Tristan. He turned as Michael approached. "There you are, Doctor. I need you to do a little job for me." Of course, Mr Quince." Michael wondered what it was this time. Quince said he was as interested as Michael in unlocking all the secrets of the virus. However, Quince had made Michael produce 'samples' of the virus based on over twenty different people, most of whom Michael hadn't even met. Quince, or his lackey, Simonds, would bring a sample of blood and tell him to produce a virus based on it.He. More

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