Paul continued to kiss along Gabriel's skin as he made his bashful confession, their eyes locked together the entire time. Paul had thought as much but to hear the boy say it with such longing filled him with a devilish satisfaction. His angel had wanted him for his birthday, too bad he had to go and ruin it for himself. But maybe the night could be salvaged.<br/><br/>Paul would never admit it, not with words at least, but he had wanted to be with Gabriel too and not just in this room. He had wanted his angel for days, weeks, perhaps longer. Paul had wanted him there in his empty hotel room in Paris, wanted him on his arm at that insipid event that was hardly worth the trouble, to dance with, to speak with, to be admired together. And he had wanted him in his lap on the long drive back, beside him on the flight to break up the tedium of traveling alone. It would have been bearable had Gabriel been there. And when he had gotten off the plane he had wanted Gabriel in his condo, in his own bed, waiting for Paul to come home. But he had to come here instead, because Gabriel wasnt his in that way.<br/><br/>So perhaps he had been too harsh with Gabriel's admittedly small slip, having some misplaced yearnings of his own.<br/><br/>Paul opened his mouth and bit down on the juncture of Gabriel's thigh, right next to the boy's cock. It was hard enough to break skin and the tang of blood fill his mouth. When he pulled away there was a perfect impression of his teeth in the pale flesh, angry and savage, and it looked so lovely and right that Paul had to place another one on the other thigh to match.<br/><br/>"Of course you're mine, my angel," Paul said when he was done, red on his teeth and eyes black as moonless night, "my beautiful angel. You belong to me."