“I ask too much, you tell me,” Antonio said, kiss broken.He leaned back, away, much to Declan’s hissed displeasure.The sound cut off at Antonio’s quick smirk and equally swift divesting of his shirt.Bare, broad muscles, decorated only by tattoos.“Know I’m probably pushing some lines.”
Oh.
Well.
Declan paused, his eyes roving over Antonio’s chest and arms, the black of ink looking settled on his warm brown skin.Some faded, others crisper, and all of them something Declan, too, wanted to trace with his tongue.
“My safe word is papyrus,” he said, his half-laugh unsteady.He drew one of Antonio’s hands to his hips, as close to purring as a sluagh could be when Antonio squeezed and dragged him in closer.Strong for a human, as if Declan were no weight at all.
“‘Back the fuck off’ works too.Or however you say that in Irish Murderpunk.”
Fresh heat over his hip bones with the drag of Antonio’s thumbs, Declan’s hands tightening over his with a shivering hiss.A raptor’s sound, pleased and low.Antonio’s approval radiated through their bond, lit it up all the more.
“Fuck away off, ye great arsebiscuit?”Declan suggested, leaning into the accent even as he leaned into Antonio, the human snickering.He traced the curve of black ink along Antonio’s collarbone with the tip of a nail.
Satisfaction coiled close, had him shivering, metal on his tongue, in his throat, with the press of Antonio’s thumb against his predator’s teeth, the man’s other hand captive to Declan’s attentions.
When Declan pierced his ears, Faerie required blood.A blade.Intent and will.Less piercing, and far more slicing to get his six hoops.Silver and blood.
Fae were not meant to scar, not easily, not even when they wanted to.
And yet, Antonio likened him to a tattoo, blood and ink.A drag of teeth instead of a needle.The press of Antonio’s thumb, rough over his tongue, instead of a cutting edge.
It fit.
Theyfit.
“I want you to touch me.”As if Antonio could doubt.As ifanyonecould doubt.Declan said it anyway, spoken against the meat of his thumb.“I want us to continue enjoying each other.I won’t break, Antonio.”
Antonio pulled his hand away, only to rest it on Declan’s other hip.To draw him in closer.“Planning on it,” was his sweet sentiment, not nearly soft enough to be called a murmur.“I’m not gonna break, either.”
Declan bent closer, laughing softly, and kissed Antonio’s shoulder with a graze of teeth.He allowed his weight to lean on the human’s hands, those fingers flexing against the sharp jut of narrow hips, another shiver running down his spine.
He tasted like a daydream under Declan’s pointed, slight smile.
“You enjoy fixing things too much to revel in shattering others.And on the list of things I imagine you to be, ‘breakable’ is near to bottom.”
Such small things, these quiet laughs and exploratory touches.Antonio and his silent encouragement, the track of his thumbs spreading heat wherever they wandered.Mapping Declan’s body, that birdlike construction of bone and sinew, as if he never wanted to stop.
“Told you ‘murder punk’ was definitely someone’s type.”Antonio’s words were felt as much as heard, his declaration met with a chuckle and Declan pushing up on his knees to take further advantage.
Voids and stars alike bless blunted teeth, points and all.Made for crushing, digging in.Not sharp, for cutting and tearing.It gave Declan leave to scrape, slow, leave faint marks without the risk of broken skin.
“Aye, so you did.”Declan kept his hand on the back of the chair, the other curled around Antonio’s shoulders, in his hair, and the seat itself widened when he rocked in.“Could have been a mite more specific as towhose.”
Antonio’s grip tightened, lips parted in a wordless gasp.That lovely sound for each press of teeth, bitten off to a low, shaking keen when Declan lingered at the curve between neck and shoulder.Thick with muscle, like the rest of him, that of a man who worked for them and put them to use.
He bit just there, that inviting, untouched skin.Layered it with slow kisses and experimental pressure.Again.And again, and again, while Antonio shook with it, each breath more ragged than the last.
“Woulda been weird to come onto you then,” Antonio objected, words shaking as much as his body, but hands, somehow, steady.The edge of a smile, even there, even when Declan couldn’t see it.“You mighta got the wrong idea.”
“Wouldn’t want that.Perish the–fuck!”The obscenity snatched itself from his tongue in a sharp gasp with the jolt of unfamiliar sensation.
Antonio’s tracing fingers had found his nipple, an area typically not of much study during hookups.The lack of previous exploration left Declanwoefullyunderprepared for the pleasure of Antonio’s fingers playing over singing skin.Declan rocked against him, helplessly, breath leaving him in a gasp when Antonio repeated the motion, then rolled the dark peak between thumb and forefinger.
“Wouldn’t’ve dragged you on so many runs, if I knew I coulda been touching you.”
Words only partially heard over Declan’s sharpened breath, the groan he tried–and failed–to suppress.Two hands at his chest, Antonio wrenching more eager sounds from him.
