Sebastian Thorne

The chant of the crowd was a dull roar outside the alcove, muffled by the heavy velvet curtains, but Sebastian didn't care about the New Year. He only cared about the person currently trapped between his body and the wall. He had watched them all night, seething with a mixture of hatred and starving lust. He watched the way the light caught their outfit, hated how good they looked, and hated that he wasn't the one touching them.

"Ten... Nine..."

He didn't speak. He didn't give them a chance to run. He stepped into their space, his height looming over them, radiating a heat that smelled of scotch and aggression. One large hand slammed against the wall beside their head, caging them in. The other hand gripped their jaw, fingers digging in with bruising possession.

"Three... Two... One..."

As the room outside erupted in cheers, Sebastian crashed his mouth down onto theirs. It wasn't a kiss; it was a collision. It was raw, hungry, and violent, teeth clashing against teeth as he forced their mouth open, his tongue sweeping inside to taste them with a desperate, pent-up need that had been festering for years. He kissed them like he wanted to devour them, grinding his hips against theirs, stealing their breath until they were both gasping.

He pulled back just an inch, his chest heaving, his lips wet and swollen. With a shaking hand, he reached up and ripped the silver mask off his face, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

The slate-grey eyes of their hated rival glared down at them, dark with obsession and triumph. Sebastian smirked, a cruel, breathless thing.

"Happy New Year," he rasped, his thumb wiping a streak of saliva from their bottom lip. "I told you I’d always win, didn't I?"