Cinn’s breath ghosted across his bare neck, sending a chill down his spine. Beneath the smell of smoky whiskey, Julien could faintly detect vanilla, from the specific cookie recipe he was now making routinely at Darcy’s house, trying to nail the formula. He was certainly giving Darcy a run for her money.
If Julien moved his mouth an inch, he could kiss the top of Cinn’s head. Well, his beanie anyway.
Not that he’d be doing that, of course. That would be wildly inappropriate.
However…
Julien slid Cinn’s headphones off—the tape had finished—and carefully wrapped the wire around them like he’d seen Cinn do a thousand times. Then, he reclined their seats slightly.
“What are you doing?” Disapproval flashed across Darcy’s face.
“Making him more comfortable so the turbulence doesn’t wake him.” Julien arranged Cinn’s head gently against his chest. A crop of thick brown curls poked out of his beanie. Julien tucked them back under. They were just as soft as they looked.
He looked up to find Darcy seething. He could practically see smoke coming out of her ears. “Julien, you absolutepsychopath. Stop touching him right now or I’ll wake him up.”
“You wouldn’t do that to him,” he said, but moved his hands away.
Instead, he snaked his arm around Cinn’s body to pull him even closer towards him, enjoying the warmth of his head and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed heavily.
Why did this feel so abstract, so unusual?
It hit him with a visceral punch—he’d never wanted this much body contact with anyone before, ever—well, not while clothed at least.
But every rise and fall of Cinn’s sleeping body only compounded Julien’s desire to never let go of him, to keep him trapped under his arm forever.
What was wrong with him? How had he been so easily bewitched by Cinn’s big brown eyes and his heart made of gold?
Julien’s fingers found their way over to play with the drawstrings of Cinn’s dark hoodie. The garment hid a body that Julien knew all too well now, after he’d drawn on him with the aethraven ink. Toned muscles blessed with a surprising amount of gorgeous tattoos that Julien wouldn’t mind investigating further. With his tongue.
Darcy’s eyes widened further. “Jul— wait. IthoughtI saw that look in your eye the other day. No, Julien. Absolutely not.This”—she gestured wildly between him and Cinn’s slumped form—“is not a good idea.”
A pinprick of annoyance threaded through Julien. Who was Darcy to police his actions? Or Cinn’s for that matter. Cinn wiggled under him, pressing in even closer, his left hand moving up to latch onto a handful Julien’s shirt.
“Seems like he disagrees with you.”
“Julien, this isn’t funny!”
“Christ, woman, calm down,” Julien snapped. Surprised by the heat in his tone, he flinched, then blinked at Darcy’s stunned face. “Where didthatcome from?” he wondered quietly.
“I think I know,” she replied.
At once, he was transported to a fractured memory of his childhood. His father had said the exact same words to his mother. Béatrice and he had been huddled together in the corner of an adjacent room, joined by an archway. Too scared to interfere, but too scared to go upstairs and leave their mother completely alone with him. A wine glass was smashed against the floor, some of the little pieces landing under the arch, littering the dark wood like stars.
The next day, a purple bruise encircled his mother’s forearm.
“Can I take that back?” he whispered to Darcy, revulsion at the dark shadow of his father’s language surging within him.
“Well, you’ve still got your one daily take-back left,” she said, referring to the ongoing system from their university days, when the four of them would fight all the time. She smiled, and just like that, Julien knew all was forgiven, and she’d never mention it again. “Seriously, Julien, Cinn’s not a shiny new toy for you to play with and break.”
“And what if he’s a broken toy I want to fix?” Julien replied, knowing full well what she’d say back.
“You’re too fucked up yourself for that, and you know it. This one is already too delicate for you to fuck with, Julien. I’m not joking.Stay away. He deserves better than that.”
“Ouch. You wound me.” Julien clutched his heart. “I’d say he’s a lot stronger than you think.”
“Yes, he is. He’s going to be absolutely fine as long as you don’t mess with his mind. He acts like a tough nut, but I can sense he’s crumbling inside. I, for one, really like him, and I’ll be pissed at you if you scare him off from us. In fact, I’ll disown you as a friend and take his side in the divorce.”
“Mess with his mind? What do you take me for?”
