Fascinating, and still, Declan was glad to retreat to a place of relative privacy.With just the two of them, safe with help at hand, Antonio’s relief and warm contentment did more for Declan than the healer’s touch or the graveyard’s hum.
“In the last week, you’ve taken down a whole school of fish ladies and survived a toxic bundle of bones and claws.Pretty sure we don’t gotta worry too much about a dude in a hockey mask.”Antonio dropped his own duffle to the floor, brushing against Declan as he did.
“It’s safe for us to wander then, is it?”
“Nah.I’m all for staying close.”
Yet, he didn’t step closer.Shoulder-to-shoulder, arms brushing, Antonio’s words a subtle tease if one knew how to listen for it.Declan, he could play coy, scout the apartment for masked killers.They could play that game.
But his fingers itched to touch; Antonio’s relaxed warmth too tempting a draw.Standing like this, it was easy to turn to him, smiling with the teeth Antonio professed to enjoy so much.
Never before had Declan been able to step closer, reach out to hook his unglamoured fingers in a lover’s waistband, tug them in so he could brush lips dark from nature, rather than makeup, along their cheek and know himself at home.Antonio made it feel so wonderfullynatural.
In part, it was the current between them.Silent validation and assurance, an ongoing conversation without words.But mostly, it was simply Antonio.Morbid, stubborn, observant, wary Antonio.The hum of their bond secondary to the way he relaxed against Declan, hand resting at the small of his back, pulling him in further.
“We’re of like mind on that.”Declan kissed the words against the scruff of his jaw, smiling.“So long as neither of us want to bring masks into the relationship.Not something I’m into.”
“Think I can live with that.”
Antonio sighed as he tilted his head, inviting Declan’s exploration.More room for Declan to kiss and stroke and bite, all of which he did.
He leaned, then pushed, walked Antonio back the few steps to the closed bedroom door.He’d heard it, the catch in Antonio’s breath the last time they stood like that.His exhale here, in the little basement, was likewise unsteady, the rush of desert heat between them heady.
“Still keen to hear about where I might want my teeth?”
Declan nipped once he had Antonio where he wanted him, pressure and slow intent, thumbs already under the hem of his shirt.Bare skin, warm the way Antonio always was.
Antonio’s head fell back against the door, as he swallowed hard under Declan’s attentions.His hand slipped down to cup Declan’s ass, all broad, forward surety.
“Yeah,” he said, rough at the edges.“Got my fingers crossed I made the list.”
Declan laughed, quiet.Bloody irresistible, how Antonio joked and grabbed and let himself be manhandled in turn.
“Oh, aye.You started at less than three femurs.How could I resist?”
Too many edges to purr, and Declan not the sort to pull it off, even if he could.The polish fell from his words, the edges raw.There hadn’t been much room to touch before.Now he could slide his hands under Antonio’s shirt, seek ink on warm skin.
A bite proper, slow done and careful, on the delicious curve of taut skin where neck met shoulder.Rust and well-worn leather, made brighter with the ragged, wordless noise dragged from the throat under his touch.Voids, but Antonio felt good.Right.And the bond like music between them, feeling like when the band played the first few chords of the song everyone in the club had come to hear.
“Jesus, Murderpunk.Do that again?”More urgent than he expected from Antonio, the way he asked.“Before I make a bad joke about extra bones.”
Declan would set the worlds on fire if Antonio asked it of him, sounding as he did in that moment.Both worlds at once.All three, if the spirits had their own.He’d even start with Faerie; it would likely please Antonio best.
“Can’t think of any humerus ones?”he asked instead.Bit again, overlapping, further down.Soft cloth and skin, and Antonio with a gasp on his lips at the gentle drag of nails along his side, between door and hard muscle until hooked in the waistband of his jeans.“Pity.What do skeletons order at restaurants?”
He asked it with a grin and a thin thigh slotted between Antonio’s, hungry pressure against his hard, albeit clothed, cock.Antonio groaned, his big hand tighter on Declan’s ass.
“You’re such a bastard,” Antonio growled, dragging Declan higher on his thigh.“Can’t sayIhave a problem with extra bones.”
A hand around the base of Declan’s wing, then.Deliberate pressure, then a pointed tug that drove his breath from him, nerves alight, pulled him in all the more to meet the rock of Antonio’s hips.
“Voids, Antonio.No one’s touched my wings before.Not as you do.”
“Yeah?”
Pull became exploration, Antonio’s hand sliding up the length of Declan’s wing.It sent his toes to curling, the same sort of pleasurable as teasing fingers through his hair, just off enough to be strange.
“Oh, aye.I, ah, find myself unused to how it feels.Perhaps hold off on the hard pulls?For a bit.”Declan took his turn to steal a kiss, over a spot already reddened by his teeth.Antonio rewarded the affection with an appreciative hiss.“It feels too good.Bloody amazing.Short circuits me a bit.”
