When he emerged from the bathroom, Storm was waiting in the hall for him, as naked as the day he was born. He was holding a bottle of water from Nathan’s fridge, the outside fogging with cold. He gestured to Nathan’s bedroom, and Nathan led him inside, unable to muster any self-consciousness about his own nudity.
The bed was the most alluring thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He made it neatly each morning, but the blankets had already been pulled back. It was a small gesture but a thoughtful one, because Nathan felt welcomed into his own bed as he slipped beneath the blankets.
“Drink this,” Storm said, thrusting the bottle at him.
Nathan took it as Storm slid into bed beside him. He realized as he brought the bottle to his lips that he wasthirsty. He drank and drank, unable to stop until his lungs screamed for air, then lowered the crackling plastic with a gasp. Over half of it was gone now, and Storm was watching him with something like satisfaction. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Storm set the bottle aside for him.
Laying in the dark, the boy’s pale, horrified face swam before him, and he turned toward Storm, reaching blindly for his head and drawing him into a kiss. The electric brush of lips against his sent the ghosts skittering away, and he sighed with relief.
Storm pulled away first. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for more.”
Nathan hummed in agreement, reeling him back in. “Just keep kissing me.”
Storm obeyed, soft brushes of lips against his own that melted the last of the tension from his body. His eyes were dry and itchy, and closing them was a relief. The last thing he remembered was Storm’s mouth on his own, the scent of tobacco and soap in his nose.
* * *
Nightmares plagued his sleep.There, that bony hand didn’t disappear when the boy died. No, it tightened around Nathan’s wrist, strong as steel, and dragged him toward the gaping, bloody hole in the boy’s chest. Dragged him toward Hell itself. And why not? He’d killed someone. That was where murderers went, wasn’t it?
A hand on his face drew him from sleep, and he heard himself utter a sound in his throat as the dream faded away. He was pressed face-first against a solid—not bloody or broken—chest, and the events of last night came back to him in quick flashes. The attack, the body, the front yard, andStorm.Storm, who’d carried him inside. Storm, who’d helped him through the shower. Storm, who was holding him in his arms like Nathan was made for them.
“You were having a nightmare,” Storm whispered, threading his fingers into Nathan’s hair.
He turned his head, listening to the slow pulse of Storm’s heart. It was slower than a human heart-rate. One arm draped around Storm’s body, he traced the line of his spine up and down, framed by firm, relaxed muscle.
“I wish I knew what happened to you last night, sunshine,” he whispered, “but I won’t ask you to tell me.”
Nathan tipped his head back to look at him, awed by the raw concern he saw in Storm’s kind red eyes. He couldn’t deny that the connection between them was more than sex. Storm wouldn’t be here if that was all it was. How could Nathan fight something that felt so right? He didn’t know what would have happened if Storm hadn’t been there last night.
If he trusted anyone to hear the raw, unfiltered truth about what happened last night, it was Storm. He licked his lips, searching for the strength to put it into words. He’d likely have to tell this story more than once, but the first time would be the hardest. He’d rather give this one, the most emotional one, to Storm alone.
“Last night, we were on patrol near the college campus. We came across a possessed human who attacked us. During the scuffle, he tried to force me to ingest a pill capsule.” At Storm’s look of alarm, he added, “Don’t worry, I was able to spit it out. I gave it to our medical doctor to analyze. Anyway—mmph.”
Storm cut him off with a kiss, fingers clutching tightly in his hair. “Good, that’s good,” he said against Nathan’s lips. “Okay, sorry, continue.”
Nathan smiled, licking the taste of Storm from his lips. “Um. I… Where was I? Oh.” His face fell. “My partner called for backup, and between the four of us, we were able to hold him down and begin an exorcism.”
Storm shuddered but didn’t interrupt.
“But—he suddenly stopped fighting. The black in his eyes faded away, and then he was just a scared kid who had no idea what was happening to him, surrounded and pinned to the ground by four big guys with weapons.” His eyes burned, and he sniffled. “And then the demon started trying to break free. It was just like the footage I showed you. His chest broke open. A demon’s hand reached through the opening and grabbed me. There was…” He wiped the moisture from the corner of his eye. “There was too much trauma. I had no choice. The boy wasn’t quite dead, and the demon was too close. It was a mercy killing, I think, but it doesn’t change the facts. His blood is on my hands, one way or another.”
“No, Nate,” Storm said firmly. “His blood is on the possessor’s hands—or claws, or whatever they have. I’ve never actually seen one up close.” He shook himself. “It sounds like the boy was practically dead already when you ended things. You kept that demon from breaking free and ended someone’s suffering.”
“I killed a human being,” he whispered. “Isn’t that a sin?”
Storm softened. “Do you really think you’d go to Hell for that?”
“Wouldn’t I?”
Storm smiled softly. “No. And even if you did, I’d go down there and pull you back out. There’s no way I’m living on this earth without you now.”
That probably shouldn’t have been as reassuring as it was.
He pressed closer, reminded that they were both naked as Storm’s length prodded his thigh. “Thank you for being here last night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“Collapsed into your own vomit, by the looks of it when I found you.” His tone was teasing, but there was very little mirth reflected in his gaze.
Nathan huffed halfheartedly. “I might’ve. I held it back for as long as I could.”
