<3 saying i missed writing these characters would be an understatement. oh my god, why are they so passionate about EVERYTHING and why is it like breathing to play with them? <3 <3
The guy pointed a gun at Xi’s head, the barrel between his eyes, and Xi stared back.
His lip throbbed, bleeding down his chin, and his ribs ached from the other guy’s boot.
“Call him. Beg him to save you,” the stranger said.
Xi bared teeth, hoping they were bloody. It would look scarier if his teeth were painted red. “You call him. Beg him to spare you.”
He grinned when the guy took the gun away from his head. He’d known he wasn’t going to pull the trigger… And then he hit him across the face with the metal instead, throwing him to the floor.
Xi tried to get up, tried to crawl, but another guy was on him too fast, working his boot in his side again and throwing him across sleek hardwood. He saw the blood and his first dazed thought was that they were making a mess of Tian’s apartment. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to get up again, just enough to crawl, if he could get to the couch… A hand fisted in his hair, arching his neck back and lifting him off the floor.
-One Month Earlier-
Zhengxi woke up slowly, wrung out and achy but somehow feeling so good. And then he felt a body against his back, skin to skin, and an arm curled around him. He was being spooned. His eyes opened. Who the fuck would—
He recognized the room, expensive but minimal, and then he remembered the night before. It had been the best sex of his life and it had been with his best-friend. Oh fuck.
Had he really just ruined the best relationship he’d ever had? He Tian was his friend. Yes, they’d messed around a handful of times over the years, but they hadn’t been friends-with-benefits. They’d been friends, always and before anything else. Now? Now this man was spooning him in his luxury apartment. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.
The arm around him squeezed and then loosened a little. “You’re thinking so loudly…” He Tian complained, voice a grumble against the back of his hair.
Xi felt the weight of this moment. Whatever he said next would define a part of them forever. He could destroy everything if he said the wrong thing. And everything that pushed to the tip of his tongue felt like the wrong thing. “You don’t own me,” was the first blade pushing against the back of his teeth. “You brought me here to entertain your window friends, you don’t need to pretend when they’re not looking,” felt jagged when he swallowed it back. Was he resentful now? He had wanted this. He had loved it. And now? Now he wanted to blow up the moment and run from the fallout.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
He always did this.
He didn’t just push people away, Xi burned bridges and made the people who got too close hate him for it. He had managed not to do it with He Tian. They’d been friends for nearly a decade.
Zhengxi got out of bed, looking for his clothes.
“Xi?” He Tian’s voice was low, an edge of worry now.
His clothes were folded on the dresser where he’d left them before showering last night—before walking out to the living room turned stage.
The times they’d hooked up before had always been good, verging on great, but never like that. Never the sort of sex that was going to cast a shadow of disappointment over all future partners. It made him want to stay. It made him want to jump on He Tian for round two right here and now.
But Xi wasn’t the sort to be spooned and he definitely wasn’t going to be locked in another relationship with some rich, possessive asshole—
“Xi,” He Tian snapped his name this time.
He looked up, breaking out of his own spiraling thoughts and realized that those thoughts weren’t fair. He Tian wasn’t his ex. He Tian had never done anything out of line. He wasn’t trying to control him. He wasn’t even trying to date him. They’d just hooked up again. It was nothing.
Why did that hurt, though?
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He had his underwear and pants on, even if they weren’t zipped up yet. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I just didn’t mean to sleep over.”
He Tian was off the bed and closing the distance, looking him over like he could read him.
It made his heart pound—the idea of being able to be read and, worse, of wanting this man to be able to read him. He wanted that distance closed. He wanted to touch him.
Like he could hear that want, He Tian reached out for him.
Xi took a step back and hated himself the second he did.
He Tian’s dark eyes flared the slightest bit, his hand stopping in the air between them before falling to his side. “You’ve slept over before. It’s never been a problem…”
“I know.”
He Tian nodded slowly, not backing up but not trying to grab him either. “Xi… What the fuck is happening right now?” he asked it like it was any other question—like he had all the time in the world for an answer.
Xi felt like there was a door inside of him that was bolted shut, like a part of him was beating against the other side, trying to explain, but nothing could make it out. He’d said nothing so as not to ruin this, not to hurt He Tian, but the silence had done it anyway.
He closed his eyes, trying to find the words and hating every second that got away from him.
“Do you regret last night?” He Tian asked, his voice so solid and easy–like no answer was the wrong answer.
Zhengxi shook his head, opening his eyes to look at his friend again. “No.” He’d never lied to him before. He wouldn’t start now.
He Tian’s shoulders eased a little, like he’d been worried but he believed him. “Okay. But this…” He looked back at the bed, a smirk tugging one side of his mouth. “This was too much?”
Xi shot him a glare but he felt something inside of him relax a fraction, grabbing at this sense of normalcy. “Yeah.”
He Tian smiled outright. “So…”
“Shut up.”
“You can suck and fuck in front of a couple of strangers…”
“He Tian…”
“But waking up snuggling had you running for the door?” He Tian laughed, the sound of it so warm that it finally washed away the last of that fight or flight instinct pushing through Xi’s veins. “And I thought I was messed up…”
“Fuck you.”
“Any time.” He Tian took that last step into his space. He deftly buttoned Xi’s pants and then dragged the zipper up. His dark gaze flicked up from the fly to Zhengxi’s eyes. “If it’s too much, or too fast, we’ll stop. If you like this but you want to talk about it, we can…”
“Talk about what?” he asked, skin warmer with He Tian this close.
The other man smiled, like that question was an answer. “You want to stick around, hang out in front of my window, and keep fucking?”
“I don’t live here.”
“But you’re always welcome.”
Xi looked around the room and at the window. Why was it so hard to accept something he wanted? Because it could go to shit? Because just because he liked it now, didn’t mean he’d like it later. What if it changed? What if He Tian changed?
“Tell me what the problem is,” he said. “Tell me what’s happening in there,” he poked Xi’s temple.
Xi curled his lip in a mock snarl but finally nodded. They were friends. He’d try. “I can’t…” No, that wasn’t the right way to start. “I liked it. I liked it a lot. And I like…” He looked at He Tian and then away. “This. I just can’t do another serious relationship.”
He Tian was quiet for a beat. Would he be upset? What would that look like now? They’d argued before but it felt like they’d crossed a line in their friendship last night. Would arguing be different now? Would it taste like knuckles?
“Okay.”
Xi looked up at him, surprised.
He Tian opened the dresser beside Xi and pulled out a pair of underwear. “What does ‘serious’ mean for you?”
“What?” Xi watched him pull on the black boxer briefs and then a pair of his pants.
“What do you not want from this? What are your lines?” He clawed the hair out of his face and headed toward the door. “Come on, I’ll make coffee.”
Xi followed, more than a little surprised how easy He Tian was making this conversation–not that he should have been. He Tian negotiated lives with murderers, why couldn’t he handle this? He paused in the living room, eyes trailing over the spot where they’d fucked last night and then drifting out the window, to the other apartment. The morning light in between and the shadows on the other side made it harder to see than it had been the night before. The blond was asleep on the couch, sprawled out with his leg up over the back and his head almost off the cushion. He was one move away from falling off.
It was hard to look away–to not wonder about him. Something in his chest pulled–wanting.
Xi groaned and rubbed a hand over his face again, pushing past the window to follow He Tian into the kitchen. What did he want? What did he not want? “If we keep doing this… we’re still friends.”
He Tian was at his espresso machine but he paused to look at him. “We’re always friends.”
“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do. You don’t own me. I leave when I want to leave.”
He Tian went still again. Xi’s heart slammed his ribs but he gave nothing away in his face. He was giving enough away with his words. He Tian moved very slowly, palms to the marble counter between them, pressing subtly. He nodded. “There’s no other way I’d want it.”
As soon as he said it, Xi knew he’d needed to hear it. He exhaled and broke eye contact first. He knew his friend was clever. “Don’t ask about it,” he added, pulling out one of the barstools to wait for his coffee.
He Tian didn’t move for another second, that sharp smile of his pulling at one side of his mouth before he nodded and pushed off the counter. He made their coffees and didn’t ask.
Xi knew their friendship was a strange one, even before adding this window fetish…
He knew what He Tian did–about the family he belonged to. But he also knew sometimes the people that looked good on paper were the monsters…so why couldn’t the reverse be true? It had been true with He Tian. He was a fucking monster on paper, but Xi had never had a better friend.
He swiveled around in his seat to look at the living room, and that window. “So…who are they?”
He Tian huffed. “No idea.”
Xi looked over his shoulder at his friend, eyebrow raised skeptically. “You didn’t have anyone look into them?”
He Tian shook his head. “Don’t even know his name, and the blond is new.”
“How long are you planning to do this?”
“Do what?”
Xi rolled a hand at the living room.
He Tian smiled. “As long as it lasts, I guess.” He put his mug on the counter and slid it to him. “Have any ideas?”
“Plenty,” he admitted.
And that was how it started for Xi, that was how he ended up in a stranger four-way relationship with two men he didn’t know just out of reach.
Soon he was spending more time at He Tian’s place than his own. He was leaving clothes and bringing groceries. He went days without even dropping by his own place and had more or less made the guest room his own space.
He had his own key from a year or two back but this was the first time he’d really used it like his own. Sometimes he came in and He Tian wasn’t even home.
Sometimes they didn’t even do anything sexual with the others, they just existed alongside each other–watching each other.
Last week, Xi had had the idea to throw a party.
He Tain had been understandably surprised. Xi never threw parties. He didn’t even really like attending them. But he’d gotten this idea… he wanted to tempt them into coming over. He got the idea when the blond on the other side had teased him, edging and edging and then winked and just sat down and refused to finish–refused to continue.
So He Tian threw a party, lights and music pulsing out of the apartment.
Xi caught both of the other guys watching from their apartment, but it was the blond that leaned against the glass, catching his gaze as if to ask what he was up to. Xi had shrugged, and mimicked offering him a drink.
He wanted him to come over. He wanted him to walk through that door.
The blond smiled but didn’t move.
Xi shrugged, downed the drink and then went back to the party–like he wasn’t always in front of the window–like he wasn’t always feeling that blond watching him. He’d even let a guy flirt with him that he wouldn’t have usually. Let him get a little handsy. When he looked over at the other apartment the redhead and blond were talking, maybe even arguing. The redhead laughed and shook his head and the blond looked pissed but went back to the window. He glared daggers at the guy with Xi, like he could will him off of him.
He Tian walked over and scared the stranger away, leaning into Xi’s side to speak softly against his ear. “Are you looking to get laid or just to piss him off?”
“Who?”
He Tian laughed. “I’ve never seen this side of you, Xi…”
Zhengxi scoffed. “You’ve seen every side of me.”
Later that night, when the party was over, He Tian fucked him up against that window to their mirror partners on the other side and Xi held that blond’s gaze the whole time, wondering what he’d feel like, imagining him too.
“I think I’m going insane,” Xi admitted the next morning.
He Tian was getting dressed but stopped to look at him, eyebrow raised.
“I think I’m going to go over there…”
He looked honestly surprised. “Really?”
Xi bared teeth and flopped back onto the bed. “No.” He hated losing. He’d started a weird game and he wanted to win. He wanted to make the blond cross the line and come over.
He Tian laughed. “We can start blue balling them until they give up.”
Xi exhaled hard through his teeth at the idea. It had occurred to him, of course, but it would be a cold war if they started…
-
Jian Yi was never going to move out of Mo’s apartment. Never. This was the greatest relationship of his life. It was also the weirdest one, and that was saying something.
He was obsessed.
He knew damn well what the blond over there was trying to do, too. He also knew he’d sort of started it. He wanted to close the distance and he’d thought he could nudge the other do to it. He’d been fucking wrong.
He’d almost snapped when they’d had the party. Mo had refused to let him go over there, even when some random guy was crowding their blond. He’d been about ready to throw a chair at the window.
His hair was still wet from the shower when he walked out to the living room and sat on the couch. Mo was already at work. He watched the dark haired guy get ready to leave and waved when he looked his way. That guy had a killer smile. It was sharp, like he probably smiled when he was being mean just as often as when he was being nice.
He and Mo had played at guessing who they thought these guys were–at names that might fit them and jobs they might have. Jian Yi had counted the floors and guessed the apartment number but Mo wasn’t budging on the “no going over there” rule. He didn’t want to ruin it. Jian Yi understood that. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about that risk.
The sandy blond walked into the living room over there. He didn’t look at the window right away. He rubbed the back of his neck, crossing Jian Yi’s view on his way to the kitchen.
In that window, he could see the whole living room, the front door on the far side of it, and the entrance of the hallway he assumed led to the bedrooms off to the right.
At this point, he thought he knew that apartment just as well as Mo’s. It was bigger, more expensive, with furniture that looked like it had come right out of a catalogue.
Jian Yi had been in plenty of places like that but this was the first time he wanted to be. He craved more of them. He wanted to watch the blond make his breakfast, not just eat it. He wanted to know what it was. He wanted to touch him–to run his fingers up the back of his neck and see if he shivered.
Mo could continue like this forever, but Jian Yi couldn’t. The only thing that had kept him from going over there this last month was his redhead. Mo wouldn’t say why he was so firm about that no-contact rule, but Jian Yi knew what it was. He was afraid it would ruin things. He wouldn’t believe that the hot-as-hell dark haired guy in that other building would still be into him if he actually met him. It was absurd. It was wrong. But it was hard to convince Mo that he was desirable as more than sexy window dressing.
The blond on the other side walked into the living room, breakfast bowl in hand, and sat in a chair across from him. He smiled. It was small and a little daring. Jian Yi needed to know his name. He needed to hear his voice. He needed to know him in a way he’d never needed to know anyone in his life.
“I think I’m in love,” Jian Yi said to a man who couldn’t hear him.
The blond raised an eyebrow.
Jian Yi smiled.
And then the front door on that far wall burst open. Jian Yi couldn’t hear it but it must have been loud because his blond was out of his chair, dropping his bowl and turning toward the three men walking into the apartment.
Jian Yi had never seen them before. He didn’t realize he’d stood up too but he had. His heart beat in his throat. Everything about this was wrong.
His blond held out his hands as if to calm them, mouth moving fast.
They had guns, two of them rushing down the hall toward the bedroom while the third stayed, talking to Xi. Arguing? And then the big guy hit his blond, throwing him into a wall.
Jian Yi bolted. His heart pounded with new panic the second his eyes weren’t on the scene anymore but he couldn’t stand there and watch. He couldn’t helplessly pound fists to the glass. He was out the front door and down the hall. Fuck the elevator. He was down the stairs.
Seconds ticked in his head.
How much damage could be done in a second? How much could he lose?
He wasn’t sure he’d ever run so hard in his life.
Daylight felt blinding when he left the lobby and darted across the street, cars squealing to a stop and honking. He went into the adjacent building. Someone tried to stop him, tried to yell at him, but he hopped a desk and didn’t bother with the elevators here either.
Had he counted the floors right?
Would he even be able to find the apartment?
Jian Yi came out on the floor and didn’t stop running. He went straight for that open doorway just as a large figure was pushing it shut, voices and shouts inside muffling. It almost latched–almost–and then Jian Yi was shouldering his way through it and into the very surprised man on the other side.
He threw an elbow into his face, feeling as well as hearing bone crunch.
And then he was there, in that apartment, on the other side of the glass he’d been watching for a month.
It was nothing like he’d expected.
There were strangers on the set, a side table and lamp were overturned, and blood smeared across the floor. For a split second, he took it all in, and met the eyes of his blond. His bloody mouth twitched with a smirk and Jian Yi knew what he was thinking…he’d won. Jian Yi smiled back, winked, and then climbed over the couch and launched himself at one of the two men towering over his blond on their stage.
Felix practically held his breath from the moment he walked away from her on the couch, until he was in the hallway, closing her front door behind him.
He exhaled hard, giving himself a second to just lean back against that door and collect himself.
Not having sex right now had been the right choice, he had no doubts about that, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to walk away. Eyes closed, he reveled in what just happened. He sucked his lower lip, imagining that he could still taste her there. The feel of her skin was scorched into his memory forever, her gasps, her moans, the way her fingers curled in his hair…
Felix pushed off the door and opened his eyes, actually shaking his head to cast those thoughts away. He was already hard. He needed to calm the fuck down.
Pulling on his hoodie, he gave her door a quick check. Locked.
It was nice, this illusion of security in this place. It wasn’t nothing. It was like bike gear–it would protect against blunt trauma but it wouldn’t stop a bullet. With the way Vera had been worried today, he wondered if it was enough.
That thought was enough to dampen his lust.
He noted the security cameras, the subtly placed one in the hallway, focused on the elevator, and then the individual ones angled from the corner of each apartment door. There were only four on this level. Jesus, this place must cost a fortune.
He walked over to the elevator but passed it, going for the stairwell instead. His gaze dragged down the long hallway around the corner, spotting what he suspected was the subtly placed service door. They had to have a different way for cleaners and movers to get up to these floors. He’d put money on there being another elevator back there.
There was always a service entrance in a place like this. No one who paid what these people paid in rent wanted to wait on the elevator while someone else moved boxes.
He took the stairs down. There were cameras in the stairwell too.
It was a good set up, but it wasn’t perfect. Nothing was perfect.
When he stepped out onto the lobby floor, the doorman was waiting. Felix couldn’t tell if the guy was disapproving or just suspicious of him. He flashed him a smile all the same, twirling his keys on his finger and walking out the front door.
It wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. He could pick up donuts and still shock Pearl with how early he would be rolling into the shop today.
He unlocked the truck on his way to it, but slowed down when he neared. The nerves on the back of his neck tightened with that sense of being watched. He glanced around as subtly as he could, and then outright when all he saw was an old woman walking her tiny dog and a family making their way into the park across the street.
Felix lingered beside the vehicle for another few seconds.
He clocked another jogger in the park and a couple of cyclists.
If he was being honest, he’d had that being watched feeling a lot the last couple of days. Vera having a legitimate reason to be nervous was probably just spiking his own paranoia.
Felix flicked the keys in his hand again. There was no one lurking or even sitting in any of the parked cars to watch the building. He laughed at himself and got into the truck, heading to work.
-
Vera had slept until nearly four in the afternoon. She woke up more naked than not and definitely in a better mood than she had any right to.
Getting dressed, she replied to a few texts and called Philippa.
Her best friend answered on the second ring, sounding a little out of breath.
Vera smiled. “Are you at the gym or fucking?”
Philippa worked on catching her breath on the other end of the line. “I can fuck at the gym, Vera. Don’t be ridiculous.”
She laughed, putting her phone on speaker and on the bathroom counter. “My apologies. You want me to call back?”
“No.”
Gym.
“You made it home.”
“I did.”
“You sound good.”
“I feel good.”
“But you’re home early,” she prompted. She knew something had gone wrong.
“How much do you want to know?” Vera asked, brushing out her hair.
“As your friend or as your attorney?” she asked, rustling on her side suggesting she was either still on the treadmill or heading to the locker rooms.
“You’ve never been my lawyer,” she reminded.
“Then tell me everything.”
For a few seconds she didn’t. It always took a moment to convince herself to give up that information, like she needed to double check this was someone she trusted first. “Mr. Hunt found me.”
Philippa’s side went quiet, like she’d stopped moving.
“I’m okay. He just wanted to scare me. He wants another piece…”
“Do you have what he wants?”
“I’m not brokering anything for him,” Vera hissed, putting her hairbrush down.
“So you do.”
Vera didn’t answer.
“How hard was he trying to scare you?”
Vera’s fingers paused in her hair, her reflection meeting her gaze. “For him? Minimally.” She was in one piece. No one had hit her or dangled her off a rooftop. She was fine. Really, she was probably making too big a deal out of it. She had literally fled to the other side of the country. He’d forget about her in a day.
But what if he didn’t?
“Do you have the painting he wants?” Philippa asked again, her tone casual like they were talking about borrowing a bag.
“Yes.”
“Good. If he shows up you have options.”
Vera exhaled a laugh. “And what are my options, counselor?”
Philippa was moving again. The familiar blip of her wristband opening her locker sounded off on the other end of the call. “As your friend, I would suggest selling him the painting. If you really wanted to, you could insist that you don’t have it and can’t get it. Maybe he’ll accept that, but it doesn’t sound like it worked in New Dinah.”
“Any other options?”
“As your friend?”
“Yes.”
“If I’m thinking purely of you–I’d suggest you run if he shows up. Cross an ocean and change your name again. But if I was being selfish?”
Vera held her breath, looking at herself in the mirror when Philippa spoke.
“If that fucker shows up again and presses you? Kill him. Buy a gun and call it self defense.”
Vera exhaled.
For a minute they just sat there on the phone together. Vera didn’t know what she’d done to deserve finding Philippa. She understood parts of her that it felt like no one ever should or could without even seeming to try. “You work for too many criminals,” she chided softly.
Philippa smiled around the other end, “Allegedly.”
“If I get caught, would you be my lawyer then?”
“You would never get caught.”
Vera scrubbed a hand over her face. “I got arrested before…”
She huffed on her end of the call. “That’s because you were set up. If you’d wanted to steal from that museum, no one would have ever realized it was you.”
“I can’t decide if this is the worst or best pep talk, Philippa…”
After a beat, they both said at the same time, “Best.”
Vera turned and moved back through her bedroom. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“Yeah. I’ll pick up dinner from that Italian place you can’t go to anymore.”
tw: reference to domestic violence, aftermath of violence, drunk idiots, bffs
Practice Makes Perfect - 17
Asher had Darlin by the wrist as soon as they were in the apartment, hauling them toward the bathroom. “Start the waffles!” He pointed back at David who flipped him off but went into the kitchen.
“Why are we going away from the waffles?” Darlin asked, still drunk.
“Your shirt is wrecked. We're cleaning up.” Chances were good if they settled into the living room to eat waffles they'd end up passing out there. Best to clean up and change clothes first.
He pushed into the bathroom and turned Darlin to lean against the counter. “I’m sorry I knocked you over,” Asher said, grabbing a washcloth and getting it wet.
Darlin sat on the counter. “I think I knocked you over.”
“No you didn't.” Asher pulled their shirt up, deciding to clean Darlin up first and then himself. Darlin lifted their arms, the one on their hurt side only going halfway up. Asher was careful getting the shirt off and then tossed it into the corner near the tub.
Darlin frowned down at themself, sticky with bloodsmears but for the area around the bandaged wound the paramedic had cleaned up. “Should I just get in the shower?”
“And fuck up the patch job?” Asher was aghast. He turned on the sink and let the water warm up before soaking the washcloth. They cleaned Darlin up, quickly earning a drink smile and a couple remarks about spongebaths.
Asher was extra careful on the side around the injury, not that Darlin winced or complained.
“So, you know the hot paramedic?”
Asher blinked and then smiled. “Yeah, kinda. I mean we met once.”
“A one night stand?”
Asher snorted, moving to their other side. He was about to reply when he noticed that deep bruises splotching their ribs. They were sallow, not unlike that bruise under their eye. He pretended not to notice, to buy himself a little more time to look at them and figure out what to say. He cleaned their arm from shoulder to wrist and then their hand and fingers–looking at the scabs on their knuckles. Darlin always fought back.
Asher wasn’t new to fights or bruises. This looked like someone had jabbed a couple punches into their side. The only problem was, he hadn’t heard about Darlin getting into any fights recently. Since when did Darlin hide fights from them? They were usually with them.
He was about to ask outright, when he saw it. His gaze slid past their shoulder, landing on their reflection in the mirror. More bruises on their back and there, between their shoulder and their neck, was a nasty looking bite. It had broken skin. “Darlin…” He curled a hand around the back of their neck, pulling them forward into him to get a look at the injury. “What the actual fuck–”
Darlin tensed and jerked back, but he could still see it in the mirror. “It’s nothing.”
“Who did that?”
Darlin’s face screwed up. They took the washcloth from him and gave their face a scrub before tossing it into the corner with the ruined shirt. “I’mma borrow something from David’s room…” they trailed, going for the open doorway.
Asher caught their arm. “Tell me who,” he said.
Darlin wrinkled their nose. “Drop it. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“It was a one time thing.”
“What was the thing?” Asher’s heart squeezed.
Darlin hesitated, the answer seemingly caught in their throat.
Asher waited.
“It was just a fight.”
Asher wasn’t sure he believed that. “With your roommate?”
Darlin sucked air through their teeth and shook off his hold. “Seriously? Don’t worry about it.” They crossed the hall for David’s room.
“Are you shitting me? Someone bit you!” He followed, looking at that damn bite. If it wasn’t for the bruises, he might have been able to consider this was some sort of roleplay that had gotten out of hand. He could even back off if Darlin said it was what they were into and not his business…but they’d clearly been beaten up.
“Fucking shut up before–”
“What are you talking about?” David was down the hall, brow creased when he followed them into his own room.
“Was it the roommate?” Asher pressed again, attention fixed on Darlin.
Darlin turned around to face them both. “Back off!” Asher was having flashback to when they were teens–and when Darlin had tried to hide that their dad had been knocking them around.
David groaned. “Jesus. You’re both drunk. Calm down and–” He must have noticed the bruises too because his words cut off and Asher could feel his peace-keeper mode snap over to protective. “What happened?”
Darlin rolled their eyes but they were glassy now, looking anywhere but at the two of them.
Asher realized then that they were between Darlin and the exit. It hadn’t been his plan, but he’d cornered them. Swearing under his breath, Ash moved forward, opening a drawer and pulling out a piece of clothing. He slammed it shut and held the shirt out.
Darlin took it, pulling it on.
“The roommate?” he asked again, almost a whisper but plenty loud in the hush of that room.
Darlin’s jaw ticked but they didn’t say anything. They never did. They never had to.
Asher waited until they finally met his gaze. “We’ll get your stuff tomorrow.” And they would talk about this more when they were both sober.
Darlin looked away again. “I can get my own–”
“We’ll get your stuff tomorrow,” Asher said again. “But tonight we’ll eat waffles until you barf and then camp out in the living room.”
Darlin tried to cross their arms only to remember they had fresh stitches in their side and wince. “Fuck…”
“Yeah.” Asher turned, leading the way back out of the room past David and into the bathroom to clean up. He was trying real hard not to think about teeth in Darlin’s skin and how that could have happened and why Darlin hadn’t told them.
-
Darlin scrubbed a hand over their face, still feeling numb and tipsy, but also warm and overwhelmed.
Asher knew and now David knew.
“I can just crash on the couch and you guys–” they said, shame creeping up to choke them just like always.
David frowned. “Why would you get the couch? We pull the cushions off and make a pile on the floor…”
Like always. Like they’d been doing since they were in highschool. Darlin looked away again, feeling raw. Why were they always in the worst situations? “I’m so–”
“Don’t.” David shook his head. “If you’re sorry your roommate is an asshole, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”
Their face pinched. “That doesn’t even make sense. It’s not your responsibility–”
“It’s not yours either.” David took a step closer and reached out, his hand curling around the back of their neck to pull them in. Their heads thumped together once and then his arm slung over their shoulder, leading them out of the room and down the hall. “Whatever is happening, it’s going to be okay.”
Darlin raised a curious eyebrow. “You’re drunk…”
He raised an eyebrow and looked back at them. “Am I?”
Fuck. He was such a good drunk they couldn’t tell.
David let them go when they reached the living room. He pointed at the couch and chairs. “You’re on fort duty while I make pancakes.”
“Waffles!” Asher called from the open bathroom.
Darlin sighed, grateful for the liquor still swimming in their veins, the promise of carbs and sugar, and their friends. They were also really grateful not to have to go back to that apartment tonight. Quinn was scary and Darlin was way too soft when tipsy to deal with that.
tags: reference to sex, biting, vampire feeding, assholes being unintentionally vulnerable, i might have nicknamed Porter kitten... you look me in my damn eyes and TELL me in he's not giving kitten energy!
the vampire phase - 2
It had been four month since this started.
Porter knew he should shop seeing David. He should blow up the relationship. He didn’t deserve this.
And laying in the aftermath of sex in David’s home, in his bed, completely spent and wrung out, he had the clarity of knowing it. David was stretched out beside him, catching his breath and just reveling in it. One of his hands was still on Porter, gliding down his side to his hip. “You okay?” he asked in that deep voice.
Porter closed his eyes. No. He wasn’t okay.
He got up fast enough that the shifter wouldn’t be able to stop him, would barely see it.
David rolled his head to the side to look at him standing near the bathroom door.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
David raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the briskness it seemed. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you angry?” David asked.
“I’m not,” he decided to forgo a shower, grabbing his clothes instead.
David sat up now, one arm propping himself up and his head tipped to the side, his neck stretching. Porter’s eyes caught on that throat for a split-second, a split-second too long, and he jerked his attention away, looking for his pants.
“I thought you’d relax after we fucked but you’re still edgy, kitten.”
Porter bared teeth, not sure if it was at the continued concern or the damn nickname David had started using. Porter hadn’t put a stop to it the first time, because he was face down and the addition of that endearment had pushed him over the edge, but that was two weeks ago and the nickname had made it out of the bedroom into their day to day.
“What do you mean? I wasn’t edgy.”
David laughed, that dry laugh of his that suggested they were on the verge of a fight and he wasn’t the least bit scared. “Okay. Pissy. You’ve been pissy since you walked in last night.”
“No I–” he started and then stopped, blinking at David. They were both still naked, Porter’s shirt in hand but his pants nowhere to be seen. “What do you mean, last night? I wasn’t here last night. I just…” No.
David smirked. “Good morning, kitten.”
It was dawn. When he reached out with his senses, he could feel the sunlight outside the apartment. He had been late getting here last night and he must have lost track of time during…
David’s smirk fell, seeing something on Porter’s face. “It’s okay. You can crash here.” He finally got up, stretching.
“I can’t stay,” Porter said, realizing it even before he understood it. Fuck. He’d fucked up.
“Why? Got a lunch date?” David walked into the attached bathroom, flicking on the light.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was so stupid. He’d had a chore from the king last night that took longer than he’d expected. The fight had been ugly and he’d lost blood before healing. He should have gone out to feed but he knew David was expecting him and if he’d gone to eat…that would have taken what time he had and he wouldn’t have made it.
“Fuck…”
“Porter,” David said from the bathroom doorway, not joking anymore. “It’s okay. What do you need? If you want space, you can have my room to yourself. I won’t bother you.”
Porter shook his head. Feeling even more like a douchebag now that David was trying to be so accommodating. He probably had been an asshole tonight too. He had to clench his jaw to buy himself the seconds to choose his words. He didn’t want to be the sort of person that snapped at his partners just because he was upset with himself. He shouldn’t have come over, but that was already done. The sun was up and he was more or less trapped in David’s apartment until it went back down.
He could tough it out. He could sleep and just go hungry until tomorrow night. It wouldn’t be pretty with his body already running on too little, but he’d gone longer without.
“Talk to me,” David said.
Porter bared teeth at him and then groaned and flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He was fucked. He could hear David’s pulse like a neighbor with their base cranked up so high that it was thrumming through the walls. “I wasn’t planning to stay the day,” he admitted.
“Obviously,” David agreed, deadpan.
Porter pinched the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t eaten.”
David smirked.
Porter threw a pillow at the shifter but he caught it easily. “I lost some blood earlier and then I didn’t go out to feed so… I’m going to be an asshole until I get out of here.”
David’s expression was unreadable for a stretch of seconds before his eyes widened a little. “Christ, are you hangry?”
Porter got up. “Fuck off.” He found his underwear and pulled them on.
David leaned against the wall. “Don’t you have a blood bank or something?”
“Such luxuries are reserved for the weak…and the princelings,” he scoffed, finally locating his pants, not that he could get out of here now. “I feed myself.” Maybe he could take a walk through the building… chances are he’d find someone willing.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you feed yourself?”
Porter looked at David and tried not to look at the bed. He failed.
David’s eyes widened. “Are you stupid? You came here to fuck instead of feeding?”
Porter could have said something poetic about feeding his varied thirsts, but he couldn’t be poetic with David’s pulse practically against his teeth. “I thought I’d have time to go after.”
“How? Where would that fucking time come from?” He was really upset, brow creased. “How long can you go without feeding? What’s going to happen?”
It was jarring to see his reaction. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. “I’m not going to go feral, or anything,” he reassured, flashing a smile with teeth. “I promise not to try to kill you and your neighbors.”
David pulled on a pair of sweats. “That’s not what I asked.”
Porter rolled his eyes, for some reason how upset David was getting over the situation was taking some of it off of his own shoulders. “I’m not going to die. I’m just… running on empty.” He waved a hand around the words like it wasn’t right but it was good enough. “Headache and…edgy.” Edgy was a nice way of putting it, he knew.
He already felt the tension in his head, behind his eyes, and that ache in his limbs that made him want to run and chase anything and everything. It wasn’t something he couldn’t control, but it was going to make the rest of the day unpleasant. The headache would get worse, the empty feeling deeper, but he would survive and hopefully not completely blow up his relationship with the shifter in the meantime.
He realized David wasn’t saying anything and looked up, surprised to find the other man just watching him. He still had that crease in his brow. “How much do you need?”
Porter blinked and then raised an eyebrow. “Why? You have bloodbags stashed in your fridge, lover?”
David didn’t say anything, arms folded over that thick chest and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Porter was about to make another joke when he realized what his partner was thinking. He smiled. “Really?”
David frowned. “If you try to kill me…”
Porter’s grin dropped. “I wouldn’t.”
David didn’t look entirely convinced.
Porter would have taken offense if he wasn’t so hungry. He held up his hand. “I swear I won’t.” He dragged his finger over his heart in two slashes. “Cross my heart and hope to die…”
David rolled his eyes. “You’re already dead,” he reminded.
Porter was on his feet in front of David, hand sliding to the side of his neck, thumb stroking his jaw. He felt the shifter’s strong pulse under his palm. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”
David huffed a laugh, his pulse beating just a little faster. “Don’t try to trick me into something I’m already agreeing to, kitten…” He kissed him.
It was enough to make Porter’s thoughts blank, his senses full of that contact and David’s pulse. Would he really let him taste him? Why did he think he was trying to trick him? What had that meant?
Porter nipped at David’s lower lip, scraping it with teeth but not breaking skin.
David jerked back a little, bearing his own teeth in playful warning. “If we’re going to do this…” he said, unraveling from Porter and climbing onto the bed, up toward the headboard.
Porter was more than happy to follow him up the mattress.
“Behind me,” David said, when Porter was almost in his lap.
He paused, eyebrow raised and lip quirking. Again, he knew if he was running on more energy, he’d have a great remark for that… “If that’s how you like it,” he said, settling against the headboard and enjoying the new position. He gripped David’s hips and dragged him back into him, between his thighs. He moaned low at the sight of that exposed neck, dropping a kiss against his spine while his hands roamed bare sides and back.
“I told you…” David said, voice low and steady, not betraying the rising beat of his heart. “If you bite me, I’ll bite you back. This is the best way to keep that from happening.”
Porter’s hands paused. He’d been enjoying this, and then those words sank in. And the earlier trepidation. “Davey…” he kissed his shoulder, fingers sliding up into the back of his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp while tipping his head farther to the side. He thrilled at the way David let him be in control for this. Usually he didn’t want it and they were both very happy with that arrangement, but this was definitely interesting. He curled an arm around the other man, hugging him to his chest to get a look at his face when he asked. “Do you think this is going to hurt?”
The shifter turned his head to look at him, eyebrow raised. “I can take it, Porter. You’re not the first vamp to bite me.”
Porter felt a jolt of something ugly at that–at the idea of someone else running hands and teeth against his skin.
David smirked, leaning his mouth closer to Porter’s. “But you’re the first one I’m not going to rip apart for it.”
Porter would usually have enjoyed the threat of violence but this was leaving a bad taste. He traced one of the scars on David’s side before realizing why, fingers stopping. Bite. Not a clean crescent but a tear. David had fought vampires. He had been bitten before. He thought this was the same as that?
Porter inhaled, on the verge of being pissed when he realized not only had David expected this to be violent…he was letting him do it. He had even put himself in a position so that Porter could hold onto him from behind, could bite and drink without David hurting him back. He was trusting him and sacrificing for him.
For him? Why?
“Kitten?” David leaned back against him.
Porter jarred back to himself, hands back to wandering skin and head dipping to drop another kiss against David’s shoulder–not missing the way the big guy tensed but didn’t pull away. “I would never hurt you,” he whispered against skin, devastated by how true it was when it escaped him.
“Porter… You need blood, so just–”
Porter sucked at the side of David’s throat, making his breath catch. He hummed against his pulse. “I’m going to bite you, but it’s not what you think it’s going to be,” he kissed higher, licking and already tasting him through his skin. He moaned softly, arms around him, chest flush to his back. “It’s not going to hurt. And you’ll never have to fight me off.”
David relaxed slowly into him, dragging a deep breath and nodding once. He dropped his head to the side, onto Porter’s shoulder, offering him his throat.
Porter did not deserve that trust and he knew it wasn’t something David handed out easily either. So why had he given it to him? What had he ever done to deserve it?
His throat burned with hunger and his chest burned with the need to live up to this moment.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever been more delicate with anyone in his life, kissing and licking, looking for just the right moment. When he bit, David tensed, arching in his grip. Porter kept one arm around his chest, pinning him to him, while the other was in his hair. He drank slowly, pouring pleasure into that bite, his own body shaking at the rich, heavy power in David’s blood. It was enough that a younger vampire would have lost themself in it–would have gotten greedy–but Porter had been greedy for David long before blood was involved. What he wanted was those sounds his lover was making, and the way his hips started twisting.
Porter was hard and pressed shamelessly against David’s ass.
David’s hands grabbed at his arm. If he pulled, Porter would have stopped and let him go. But he didn’t pull, he just held on.
“F-fuck…” the shifter rattled out.
Porter swallowed another mouthful, headache long gone and limbs feeling like he could hold up the whole fucking world if he had to. He’d never felt this good in his entire life, and he wasn’t even sure how much of it had to do with the shifter blood and how much was just the shifter himself.
this is probably going to sound quite silly, but the small detail of lube + condoms in the recent tattoo au update felt inclusive to men who r in the fandom. i feel like a lot of the time, even with gender neutral writing, it’s still usually leaning toward the feminine side — but i don’t place any blame!!! it’s hard to write sex scenes gender neutrally, and you can’t please everyone. i just thought it was a nice detail and made it feel more gender neutral.
sorry for the silly ask, lol. thanks again :)
Not silly at all! I'm so happy to hear it, thank you for taking the time to let me know how it was hitting. Like you said, it can be tricky to write in a way that works for everyone so it's really great to hear that those details helped.
