Everil, sitting back on his heels. Bo, legs on either side of the other man, knees bent. He reached out, fucking awkward as it was, and felt the line of sunbaked tension ease when his fingers wrapped around Everil’s. The discomfort settled, if only just, Everil’s hand a solid presence under his.
“You said you’d answer my questions,” Bo said, still gentle. This wasn’t shit he’d heard about, empaths or whatever the emotion-projecting people tried to sell themselves as. The physical contact didn’t hit the way touch would if he were cruising, either.
Wasn’t about sex. Just need and the sharp way Everil’d breathed when he let go.
Bo’s other hand was back against the curve of Everil’s neck before he realized what he was doing. Again, fuckingagain,his thumb on the gentle beat of Everil’s heart. Bo should be ashamed of this fucked upgrasping, touching the strange man and resisting the urge to drag him closer. Somehow, this was real, and Bo felt zero shame about it, even with the taste of it thick from–
“What the fuck kind of psychicareyou?”
“Psychic? I’m afraid not. Or at least, not in the sense you mean.” Everil closed his eyes, voice remaining level even as fresh guilt ran, slick as oil, over Bo’s skin. Fucking waves of it. Guilt and shame, powerful and powerless, and still that thin ‘thank fuck’ echoed through it all, lingering. “This isn’t me playing with your mind or some such cruelty.”
Bo didn’t flinch. He’d spent a long time learning not to flinch. Everil’s words didn’t even hurt so much as they surprised. Hearing a stranger who, from all fucking evidence, didn’t know him still call it cruelty.
“It’s an affinity bond,” continued Everil, quiet. “Complimentary energies. They’re not usually so unexpected or,” he opened his eyes again, studying Bo’s hand on his, still leaning into the slow trace of Bo’s thumb up and down the length of his neck, “intense.”
“Gotcha,” Bo murmured, looking down at their hands himself. “Right. Energy bonds.”
“It’s my fault,” Everil admitted, like he fucking meant it. Bo almost believed him. “I’m afraid I’m rather damaged. And you arrived with unfortunate timing.”
Yeah, Bo could almost believe him.
Not quite, but nearly with the complimentary energies bullshit. The damaged part, though? Bo didn’t fucking doubt. He laughed, quick and unpolished, then leaned in more. Because no matter what the fuck it was, ‘intense’ was on that list. And he couldn’t quite help it. The leaning in until his forehead was pressed against Everil’s hair.
“I hate to break it to you, but we’re all fucking damaged. Even if you’re into woo-woo New Age twin flame bullshit.” Bo slid his hand further back on Everil’s neck, skin to skin, fingers splayed. “Good timing is only for movies.”
“Or fairytales.” Everil’s laughter was quietly bitter, tattered velvet. Fuckerdidhave a sense of humor in there.
Bo’s fingertips pressed under the collar of Everil’s light sweater, slow and studious, while he breathed in the air of a house made safe by time. Everil swallowed hard, his hand tightening on Bo’s wrist.
“What are you, then? If not some psychic who got wrapped up in quartz and whatever else people who believe in mirror souls get wrapped up in, or one more conman with a mindfuck?”
“Affinity,” Everil corrected carefully. “Only that. I’m making no claims of being your mirror.”
Fucking hell, hedidbelieve in mirror souls.
“As to what, that requires a longer answer. Could we sit properly, perhaps? I don’t generally entertain my guests on the floor.” Thatneed,again, reverberating separately from the mess of other emotions. It felt like every time Bo had wanted comfort from the scary things of the world when he’d been young, knowing that the scary things were his to handle, trying to be brave. “It’s rude, and the house is bound to get irritated.”
Theyshouldsit like normal people. Fucking weird, down on the floor, his hand under the guy’s shirt, the other covering both of Everil’s. Shouldn’t be on the verge of clinging like a limpet at Everil’s talk of getting up.
Bo hesitated, lips parted in a protest or agreement that never came. Just, “It will?”
“I’ll stay close.” Softer, when Everil spoke again. Nearly whispering, and it was hard to say which of them he was trying to reassure. “You needn’t let go.”
But he did. Bo slid his hand further down Everil’s back, touching as much of him as he could, and they needed to get up. To not tuck in closer, even if he wanted to. Wanted it more with each passing second, matched with the tug from Everil that said Bo wasn’t alone in that.
“We need to let go for a minute.” Bo matched whisper for whisper, curled closer to say it against Everil’s ear. Wasn’t normal, his hands tightening, pressing down at the thought. Not normal, and he knew that, but he couldn’t find it in him to fuckingcare. “Just to stand, so the house doesn’t sic raccoons on us. Just a little. Staying close.”
Just a little, staying close, but his hand slid out from under Everil’s sweater, fingers dragging, needy, over his skin. And away.
Everil reached out, reached for Bo, and Bo felt an ice-sharp cut of some new emotion, there and gone again. Everil didn’t touch him. His hand found the table instead, and he pushed himself to his feet.
Panic.Everil regarded him with measured calm, but Bo was certain of it. That icy feeling had been panic.
“I wouldn’t worry over much about the raccoons,” Everil said, reaching down toactuallygrab Bo’s hand this time. “But the lights tend to flicker when it’s moody.”
Tightening his grip on Bo’s hand, Everil pulled him effortlessly to his feet. Bo wasn’t a big guy. That didn’t mean he was a frail thing, made of air and hollow bones. Usually, getting helped to his feet meant a little work on his part. But Everil, fresh from nearly fainting, took his weight without so much as a tensed muscle.
He’d think about it later when he stopped having the too-tight feeling everywhere Everil wasn’t.
