“I don’t know,” Drake emphasized firmly when you asked what happened, hand raking through his hair to distract him from the growing heat in his body. A groan escaped the man as he plucked a pinkish purple dart from his neck, tossing it to the ground in heated frustration.

Drake stumbled in his steps as he made his way to the nearest couch, immediately planting himself on it. He gasped quietly at the sudden stimulation, his hand flying up to cover his mouth. The lightest touches would set him off.

You had been watching in mild shock the moment he barged into the room you were in. You looked down and picked up the discarded dart. There was no doubt it was coated with an aphrodisiac liquid, and a strong one at that.

You looked back at Drake, and he’s a certain mess. His hair was tousled—a deep blush coloring his cheeks—and his hand was kept to his mouth, poorly hiding the noises that escaped his throat. Drake sat slack on the cushions, head tipped back a bit.