She stood, taking her plate with her. “I gotta get back to work. But just a word of advice. Watch your back. Those guys followed you out of the market today. They probably know you’re sniffing around.” She leaned against the table, dropping her voice so only they could hear her. “They’re fucking idiots, but they’re violent idiots, you know?”
Mal grimaced. “Don’t worry. We’ve dealt with more than our fair share of violent idiots.”
She gave one final nod and disappeared. Nico picked at his food for a few more minutes, but neither of them felt like eating after that. Kimmy arrived with their bill and a to-go box. Mal left cash on the table then headed for the exit, Nico still wrapped around his arm like a vine, though, this time clutching a styrofoam container full of leftovers.
Mal helped Nico into his seat before walking around to the driver’s side. He’d barely gotten the door closed before Nico was grabbing his shirt and dragging him across the console, crashing their lips together so hard their teeth clacked.
Heat flooded Mal’s system, his dick instantly on board with whatever this was. He wrapped his hand around Nico’s neck, adjusting the angle of the kiss but letting Nico set the pace.
Nico tasted like syrup, his tongue sweet. He bit and sucked at Mal’s lips, whining into his mouth whenever Mal did the same. Nico was greedy, frantic almost, clutching at Mal like he thought he was going to push him away.
And he did. But only because a group of good ol’ boys in trucker hats whooped loudly from the sidewalk. The windows were tinted and starting to fog up, but Mal wasn’t taking any chances.
Nico stared at him, eyes glazed, lips slick with spit, breathing a bit heavy. Mal tried to read between the lines, to guess what might be going on in Nico’s head, but he couldn’t be sure.
Just then, Nico dropped his hand to palm over Mal’s half-hard cock. “Take me home. Please.”
Mal blinked rapidly. It was almost impossible to think with all the blood rushing from his brain to his cock. “You want us to?—”
“Yes,” Nico cut him off, cheeks going pink in the overhead light. “Now. Tonight.”
Holy shit. What happened today that had changed Nico’s entire world view?
“I haven’t changed my mind,” Mal warned. “If we do this, the lights stay on.”
Nico nodded. “I-I know. I don’t care. Turn on every light in the whole apartment. I don’t care. Just take me home and fuck me.”
Mal could feel himself nodding like one of those bobblehead dolls, but he couldn’t stop. “Okay, but you’re going to have to take your hand off my dick or we’re not going to make it out of the parking lot.”
Nico looked disappointed, but retracted his hand. “Fine, but hurry.”
That wasn’t going to be a problem. Mal would violate every traffic law known to man if it meant getting inside Nico faster. “Buckle up, Fidget.”
What the hell was Nico doing?
He didn’t know. He never did. His mouth was always saying things without his brain’s permission. It was who he was as a person. A disaster.
The rain laid a blurry filter over the outside world, making it feel like he and Mal existed inside some kind of bubble, far removed from everything. The windows were fogged, partially from Nico’s impulsive make-out session but mostly from the cool air inside fighting with the balmy temperatures outside. Street lamps and headlights became starbursts, the lane reflectors one continuous glowing line along the asphalt.
It was like a surreal painting. Huh, maybe Nico was learning something in art history after all.
The wipers beat out a frantic cadence across the windshield, only ratcheting up Nico’s sudden anxiety. His fingers sat threaded with Mal’s on the center console, but Nico only looked at him in short, darting glances. Anything else and his skinwould flush like he was some blushing virgin. But he couldn’t help it. His insides were buzzing with…something.
Anticipation? Anxiety? Fear?
D. All of the above
Mal kept his eyes trained on the road, the picture of contentment. The steady beat of the windshield wipers and the quiet hum of the AC were probably enough to maintain his homeostasis. Rhythmic sounds soothed him. He said they drowned out the voices in his head. Nico wished he had some secret trick to calm himself, but in true Nico fashion, he’d taken the only thing that made him feel any peace—Mal—and made him the sole source of his inner turmoil.
Nobody knew how to ruin a good thing like Nico.
He pressed his temple to the cool glass of the passenger window, but didn’t release Mal’s hand. He craved Mal’s touch. It grounded him. Nico covertly watched Mal in the vague window reflection, his chest tightening until he felt like choking. How did someone as sensitive to overstimulation as Mal tolerate someone like Nico? There was nothing steadying or serene about him. He was the storm to Mal’s clear skies.
No, that wasn’t impactful enough. Nico was a hurricane, a tornado…a fucking tsunami. Yeah, that. Just before a tsunami, the waters rushed away from the beaches, forming one massive wave that would crash down onto anything in its path, causing damage and leaving destruction in its wake. That was Nico, always running from Mal’s feelings for him, only to fall back into him when he required validation. And fuck anyone who got hurt in the process.
Nico swallowed the high-pitched laugh building in his chest. It was a stupid metaphor. But Nico wasn’t a poet. He was nothing, really. He didn’t know if he wanted to be something. Everyone else had their lives figured out, but not Nico. Felix had created a billion dollar fashion brand. Shiloh had his hair thing.Silas was in school for video game design. Hell, Seven was in law school. Nico was just…existing.
He risked a glance at Mal.
