wretched creature

༻△⋆₊˚.⛤△⛤.˚₊⋆△༺

Dew felt like his body was merely a vessel for the lust contained within it. His earlier shower upon returning from Rain’s room had done nothing to relive him of the tension either, not really. Once again, his glowing marks had reminded him of Rain and how he would glow, full bodied and beautiful.

With his eyes closed, the glow almost let him believe it was Rain’s hands rubbing over his skin, exploring, the distorting thrum of water helping him imagine his voice filling the air with his pants. He didn’t set the water to cold this time. He no longer wanted to extinguish the inferno; he wanted to indulge. Dew also knew that his own chilled touch wouldn’t come close to Rain’s, not now he had truly felt it.

He was burning hot everywhere, but nowhere as much as where he ached for Rain’s touch. Even the first ghost of his fingers was intense, lightening shooting along his spine making him gasp and lean on the shower wall for support. The tiles were cool like Rain, firm like his body when he held him.

Dew shivered as he began to move his fingers, water streaming down around him. The echo of his slight gasp warped within the thrum of the shower, letting his imagination begin to run away from him and build the illusion that the sounds came from Rain. He couldn’t fully mistake them though, not now he knew what Rain sounded like, not now he had heard his noises of pleasure breathed directly into his ears, his skin, his mouth. Dew could still fantasise about how exactly he would sound when he came apart beneath him however.

Not that Dew thought he could wait for that much longer. There was little he wanted more than to give Rain everything and take all he would give too.

He shivered despite the hot water as he imagined it, continuing to touch himself with increased desperation. The part of him that liked to feel fully in control of things almost wanted to plan his every move, already feeling overwhelmed with choice just at the ideas filling his mind. Dew wanted to touch, to taste, to take.

Even the best plans would fly away the second he was faced with his water ghoul in the flesh though, Dew knew. He also knew that whatever happened would surely be beyond perfect. It was Rain, after all. The best part of all however was that they had eternity for him to do everything he could possibly want.

With every jerky pass of his hand between his legs Dew felt himself tumbling towards an edge that had never been all that far away even from the second he had stepped into the shower. He wondered in the back of his mind what Rain most wanted from him, before he realised that it was no longer a case of if he wanted but what. Did Rain also feel almost greedy with how completely he desired him too? Dew hoped so.

He wanted everything from Rain. He wanted to feel his large hands holding him, he dreamed about feeling those soft lips and his eager tongue in places other than his mouth. He wanted to taste himself on Rain’s tongue afterwards. He wanted Rain to fuck him, wanted the intense level of closeness that would come from their bodies connecting in such a way.

Dew didn’t last long. He came to the imagined vision of Rain knelt before him, his hands clutching the fire ghoul’s thighs and his eyes fluttering closed as his tongue replaced Dew’s frantic fingers. His knees almost gave out, the wall all that was keeping him from ending up loose-limbed and dazed on the slick floor.

He fell asleep to the same mental image of the water ghoul.

Dew’s dreams that night were full of nothing but Rain. They weren’t especially coherent, more a disjointed montage of every moment that he thought would be on near permanent repeat for the foreseeable future.

Dream-Rain stalking towards him as he had done in the wardrobe department, every part of him oozing a knowing kind of attractiveness.

Then Rain in the new uniforms, coming off stage and removing his helmet just as he had done that day. Rain shaking out his hair and wiping the sweat from his brow just so Dew could catch hold of his face with both hands and pull him down for a kiss.

But also Rain pressing him to his door and the dizzying high Dew had felt as Rain had crocodile-rolled him to push him into the softness of the bed.

The electric feeling of his fingertips on his hips, imagining them exploring elsewhere.

His fingers might be cold but even through many layers of fabric Dew knew Rain’s cock was not. In his dream Dew could ignore the burn in his thighs to grind on it, letting himself burn in a different way. Even just in his subconscious it felt delicious, electric and just so perfect. Dew wanted to do it again, to learn every press of their bodies.

The single roll of his hips down onto Rain had felt so good. He needed to feel it again, more than he even needed air. He needed to lose himself in the feeling, taking the pleasure that Rain would so willingly give him and giving him his own in return. Dew wanted to make him lose control and buck his hips without command again.

Dream-Rain had done more than buck his hips though, especially once he was on top. He had pressed into Dew with them, a chorus of his breathy moans, all overlaid as though Dew’s sleeping mind couldn’t pick out the sweetest, sung against his collarbone. He ground his hard cock down against Dew’s heat, his hands everywhere at once – quite literally as his dream provided no less than a dozen warring sensations, unable to decide where it wanted his touch first.

The clearest ones to focus on had been the hands around his waist, retracing the path his thumbs had taken before. This time though he imagined them pushing higher, burrowing up beneath Dew’s shirt, cold fingers tracing the planes of his stomach and following the ridges of his ribcage.

Another roll of his hips into him, which Dew’s dream played from several angles concurrently, had Dew gasping out too. A shadow fell across him and his eyes that he hadn’t known had fallen shut sprang open. Looming over him was Rain, shirtless – wait when had he lost that, Dew wondered – and now propped up only on shaking arms.

Dew reached up for him, wanting to feel his cool weight on him once more. Instead he ran his hands over the imagined firmness of Rain’s back muscles. Dew wanted to feel them in real life; he had seen him naked several times before but he hardly thought those moments counted. He wanted to see his body with purpose, with the time to properly worship it like he deserved.

He couldn’t think too long about that before Dream-Rain’s many hands began to move again, stroking lower, spreading Dew’s legs apart where his own clothes had magically vanished too. Even in his dream Dew started to lose control only moments later, Rain’s touch however fictional being more than enough to bring his body to the edge again.

“Rain—”

Dew awoke with a start in the middle of the night. His whole body seemed to thrum with the lingering pleasure of his dream, an uncomfortable wetness between his legs. He sighed into the too-warm darkness of his room. He missed Rain beside him, felt his absence as keenly as he had felt the arousal in his dream and its after-effects now.

He didn’t think that he could hold back from Rain much longer. But maybe he didn’t have to.

.▽⋆.*⛧༺▽༻⛧*.⋆▽.

Rain loved Dew’s attention. Trying on their new costumes, all intentionally positioned laces and tailored garments, he knew he was at the centre of said ghoul’s focus. Rain knew he looked good. More specifically though he liked when Dew noticed him, when his eyes found him in a crowd to just stare.

He could also tell that Dew’s gaze went beyond the clothes or even his body though, looking deeper into the very depths of his soul. Dew made him feel beautiful in a whole new way, one he wasn’t entirely familiar with and yet one he yearned to become, for him.

Still, in the moment he chose to preen, showing off a little. Rain made a point of looking Dew up and down too, matching the hunger in the fire ghoul’s eyes. It wasn’t even just for show; he really did look irresistible and it was clear that Dew could at least somewhat see it too. The confidence suited him, Rain thought.

Somehow that was the most attractive part. The way Dew held himself he looked as proud as he did on stage, only now without the pretence of an audience. He looked unafraid to take what he wanted. Rain hoped that was true – there was very little he wouldn’t let Dew have. Every time Dew lost himself kissing him, making his intentions as clear as the finest crystal, Rain thought it was just about the hottest thing on either side of the Pit.

Rain hadn’t given him a chance to ask though, he had pulled him in the direction of his room before they were even fully inside the Den. Dew had gone more than willingly, following with an enthusiasm that mirrored Rain’s own.

Rain had pressed him into his door before he could stop himself, trusting that Dew would have stopped him if he had wanted to. Dew hadn’t though, instead he had made it quite clear that he liked it as he clung to him, matching every ounce of desire pouring from Rain’s lips as he kissed him with a fire that almost scared him. Dew’s enthusiasm only turned Rain on more, his clear interest the greatest aphrodisiac of all.

From his perch atop his hips Dew’s hair had tickled his face, every strand a caress that left Rain feeling almost feral with his urge for him. Holding back was hard, but he needed Dew to see the depth of love in his heart too.

It felt like Dew had set him ablaze though and Rain couldn’t resist rolling on top and pinning him, feeling some primal urge to claim and take. Best of all, Dew had actually reciprocated. It had taken every fibre of Rain’s self control to stay calm when Dew started grinding on him and having the fire ghoul beneath him made it no easier. He thought he might have actually turned to dust if he had had to keep his cool for any longer.

The fire ghoul had made his interest so very clear and it was making Rain’s brain want to turn itself inside out. Yet Dew had also left, walking away with the full knowledge that he was leaving Rain so hard it was starting to hurt. Rain understood him though, in fact he thought he felt the same.

For him even more so than Dew the romance was new. Rain was no stranger to the pleasures of the flesh but this was his first time ever having an emotional connection alongside. This was the first time he wanted to still be beside the ghoul in the morning. Rain thought this strange feeling of so much more than romance might even be more intoxicating than the raw sexual desires coursing through him right now. Everything was so much more than he had ever felt before that he was glad they had the time to live and luxuriate in every new moment.

Rain flopped back onto the bed as the door clicked shut behind Dew. The sheets were still warm from his body pressing into them, making Rain feel almost jealous that they got to hold onto his warmth for a few more minutes.

There was a new heat building in him though, one Dew had lit inside of him, one that was so much more potent than any mere temperature change. This one smouldered, refusing to be ignored, yet which without Dew there would not be easily extinguished. Rain saw no alternative but to give in to it, to let it take him.

He let his hand drift to where he was hard and aching, burrowing into his pants and tentatively giving his cock a squeeze before following with a few test strokes. For a few seconds the relief felt good, but then he felt himself burning up, too worked up and overwrought to enjoy it without Dew there to make it the good kind of burning.

He was too hot. Too frustrated. He needed to cool off.

Rain considered a shower. He was too keyed up to wait for the bath to fill and didn’t want to go into the corridor anyway lest he bump into a packmate. Upon opening his en-suite door he could hear the pipes rattling and immediately knew one of the rest of their pack was probably well into using up the supply of hot water by now, also putting a stop to that idea.

He wondered if it was Dew, also unbearably keyed up and seeking release. Rain imagined him, wet and naked as steam from the shower fogged up the mirror, imagined his quiet gasps echoing off the tile. He thought of Dew’s face twisted in agony, his hand moving furiously between his legs. Rain thought about the arm attached to that hand, glowing blue with his own marks. And yet he was not there to see.

The growl that ripped from Rain’s chest was unexpected, reverberating loudly in the silence of his room.

He couldn’t stay here thinking any longer, imagining all that Dew could be doing just down the hall. Rain needed to cool off. His own hand wasn’t doing anything for him right now, all he felt was the absence of Dew in every stroke of his clammy fist.

Rain hurled himself off the bed, stumbling on shaky legs, and headed straight for the window. Throwing it open he clambered out on long, trembling limbs and bolted for the lake. He couldn’t say why exactly – it wasn’t the point in the lunar cycle where he felt a pull to the water – but he felt an overpowering urge to get lost in its expanse regardless. The heat filling his room not being from Dewdrop was too much.

He shed his clothes along the way, a trail of lost linen leading like breadcrumbs back to the Abbey. By the time he reached the path down to the lake’s edge the faint curve of the moon was already cooling on his bare skin, the earth underfoot pulling him forward. Rain didn’t even walk as far as the dock, heading straight for the water’s edge and walking in as if it were nothing.

The cool tendrils of the water lapped at his calves, then his thighs as he ploughed forward, his skin lighting up at its touch. He shivered as it swallowed his still half-hard cock, the cold doing nothing to dissuade it. The visions of Dew that filled his mind were too strong for that.

Rain kept striding out into the lake, the gentle sway of the water’s surface welcoming the rest of his body home. He looked at his arms and the marks coming to life as he did so, imagining them as Dew’s, picturing the fire ghoul’s blue-adorned arms brushing against his heated skin as he fell apart.

One day he was going to hold Dew to his front and touch him just he imagined doing now, Rain decided. He was going to have him look down and see how the ghoul the marks belonged to knew his body just as well as he did.

For now though, the absence of Dew in his arms was still strong and Rain felt nothing short of jealousy that it was the copy of his marks that the fire ghoul was surely looking at, his tail lashing through the water. He growled again, the sound echoing across the water. Rain wasn’t accustomed to this new possessive streak in himself and he hoped it would die down before he disturbed Dew with it.

Embarrassed now, Rain wondered for the first time if he was actually alone. He listened closely for the sound of anyone surfacing to investigate the noise – it would be just his luck for Mist to interrupt him right now – but its was mid-way through the lunar cycle so the lake remained as abandoned as he had hoped it would be.

Rain dived beneath the water, hoping the cooler temperatures the deeper he went and feel of the water rushing past him would help him to calm down. His gills flared under the water, drinking in deep, and yet nothing quenched the fire. He drifted above the lake bed, barely making out shapes in the darkness, the faint light of the moon hardly making an appearance. That didn’t matter though, Rain knew the lake bed well from his previous time lurking down here.

He hovered for a while, still restless, none of the meditative calm he had felt down there before coming to him now. If anything it was only making him feel more restless instead of distracting him. Rain gave up and kicked off the bottom, immediately feeling better having broken the surface again. He had a brief flashback to the time when he had felt Dew’s presence from within the lake, pulling him back to the dock. It wasn’t the same now, they were on proper speaking terms for starters, but he supposed that the interface between their realms of the lake’s surface was enough to trigger it.

Instead of fighting the pull he let himself float on his back, staring up at the moon while the water gently held him, as soft as any bed. He was sure he must be rivalling its brightness right now, challenging its light with his own luminous glow.

Rain took deep breaths while his tail kept him steady, the cool night air pleasant but still incomparable to the feeling of stolen smoky breaths from Dew’s lungs. Just thinking about kissing him again Rain’s hand began to drift, long cold fingers running over his stomach and down towards his hip.

He paused, thumb rubbing along its v-shaped path still somewhat absently. As he did so all his restlessness began to fade away, the energy beneath his skin coalescing under his fingertips. His cock stirred again, not that it had ever really softened, his fingers wrapping around it without him consciously telling them to. He could almost weep with the feeling, the itch finally scratched as he squeezed slightly.

There was nothing in his mind but Dew as he began to stroke. How hot would his fingers feel around him, he wondered? What about his mouth? That long tongue that had driven him half-mad out on tour?

Rain whimpered slightly at the thought, running his thumb over his already weeping head and almost sinking below the water as he crumpled in on himself at the sudden burst of arousal radiating outwards. The vision of the fire ghoul never left him, his burning red eyes heavy lidded with lust as he looked up at Rain through his long lashes. Rain was torn between imagining his long tongue laving up the side of his now weeping cock and his lips stretching wide around him as he sank lower.

He stroked over himself faster as his vision of Dew began to bob his head, hollowing his cheeks to take him deeper, drool gathering at the corner of his mouth. Rain’s grunts carried across the surface of the lake far into the night but he didn’t care. It felt so good, more than just his own hand. The mental image was a powerful one.

With a few final pumps of his fist Rain finished quickly, almost shocked with how suddenly his orgasm had snuck up on him. He gasped and cried out as it rocked his body, his gills flaring open just beneath the surface of the water to take in more oxygen as he continued to float and take ragged breaths.

The fire was sated for now but Rain knew it was not extinguished. It was only a matter of time until Rain cracked. He dived back under the water and swam for shore.

The next morning Rain slept in. He hadn’t meant to, but he had had a rather late night, truly into the witching hour by the time he had crawled back through his window, the sun already considering her return to the sky. He had rinsed his hair out quickly before falling asleep, and then he had not wanted to awaken from a rather pleasant dream.

Still, he felt a little guilty when he emerged closer to lunchtime and saw Dew’s head immediately flick to the door. Always the early riser, Rain was not surprised to see him up already, although he noticed he did look more tired than normal. Thankfully he was alone.

“Hey there, Sleeping Beauty.” Dew smiled, no shadow of annoyance at his morning having been in any way disrupted. “All the excitement of the new costumes tire you out or something?”

With his knowing smile, Rain felt like he had been busted. Simultaneously he heard a little truth of Dew’s own in the words too, like he was projecting without entirely meaning to.

“Something like that.”

Rain eye was suddenly caught by his shirt folded neatly on the ottoman in the corner, the one he had discarded yesterday. He had grabbed the pants from beneath his window as he climbed back through it but must have somehow missed the cream linen in his sleepy daze as he returned.

He looked back at Dew, feeling his cheeks colour at the realisation that his after-hours activity hadn’t gone totally unnoticed.

“Oh yeah, Mount brought that back this morning.” Dew smirked. “I can’t think how, but he found it on the lawns when he was heading to the greenhouses earlier!”

Rain mumbled noncommittally, but Dew’s knowing grin never faded.

It was a slow rest of the morning and then an even slower afternoon; they had nowhere to be today, their last truly empty day before the rehearsals and preparations for tour would start up again. Dew was clearly tired after their late night, so they had settled to watch a movie in the main common room and have a lazy day. The rest of the pack came and went, most of them having occupied the sofas around them at some point or another by the time Dew eventually fell asleep on a couch.

When the others started drifting off for their own evenings Rain began to feel torn: Dew looked so comfy that he didn’t want to move him, and yet he was sure he would prefer to sleep in a proper bed. It was Aether who finally broke through Rain’s indecision.

“Go on.” The quintessence ghoul spoke softly from the doorway, having just returned to the Den to find the common room occupied only by the pair. “He won’t mind if you take him to bed. Or rather he won’t complain as much as he will if he wakes up with a stiff neck, at least.”

His smile was warm and encouraging, not holding any of the misgivings a small part of Rain always feared were lurking beneath the surface. It was so clear how much love he still held for the fire ghoul, and yet Rain could finally see how that now manifested in a desire for his happiness above all else rather than any kind of jealousy. It felt good to recognise that, Rain thought, he liked knowing that in some sort of way he had the blessing of the one ghoul who came closest to understanding his devotion to Dew.

Careful not to jostle him too much, Rain got to his feet and scooped the fire ghoul up in his arms. Dew was heavier than he looked, the hidden strength within him clear as Rain stumbled slightly as he adjusted his hold on him. It would certainly have been easier to carry him were he not almost entirely dead weight, but Rain wasn’t going to wake him if he didn’t have to, not with him looking so peaceful.

Rain was strong too though, all the years of swimming giving him the power he needed in this very moment to spare his mate from a few seconds of unnecessary walking. He brought Dew to his room, unsure if he would be welcome in his yet, laying him on the bed as gently as he could manage. Dew could finish his nap and then decide if he wanted to return to his own room or not.

Only a small grumble as he relaxed into the pillow gave away that the fire ghoul had been disturbed at all. Rain’s late start and lazy day meant that he wasn’t tired enough to join him in sleep, even with his late night. Still he laid down beside him, content to watch over him until he awoke, not wanting him to be spooked by his unexpected change of scenery.

Maybe it was just because he was asleep in his bed, but looking at Dew was making Rain’s heart squeeze in his chest. As he stared he also started to notice new things about him that weren’t there when he was awake; how all the lines in his face smoothed out, how he breathed with his mouth slightly open, his chest rising and falling evenly. Rain wanted to stroke his hair so he did, finding it as warm as though he had been laying out in the sun rather than just on Rain’s sheets. The same ones he had warmed so thoroughly yesterday, his mind unhelpfully added.

Dew huffed slightly then, making Rain worried that he had woken him. Instead he just seemed to settle in more completely, hand coming to rest closer to Rain as though he sensed him, his tail finding Rain’s and twining the two together. Rain turned off the lamp to let him sleep but he couldn’t resist wrapping an arm over him to cuddle him close.

If Rain was sleepier he would love to fall asleep this way. Still, in the dark Rain fell into a half-doze, still aware of Dew’s breathing but letting his own eyes fall shut in the darkness too.

It wasn’t even that late when Dew woke up, snuffling slightly as he came back to consciousness in a way that made Rain want to study him under a microscope. He settled instead for kissing the dazed, still sleepy expression from his face when his eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning, Sleepyhead.” Rain whispered into the darkness between them.

“You’re one to talk.” Dew said after a loud yawn, sounding very awake suddenly as he reached over to turn the lamp on. “What time did you emerge this morning? Not to mention the sleepwalking.”

“I don’t sleepwalk.” Rain blinked against the sudden light, less awake than Dew now it seemed.

“Well how’d you explain your shirt getting halfway across the grounds then? I know it was the one you were wearing yesterday.” Dew ran a claw up Rain’s sternum, clearly invigorated after his nap. “I recall getting quite up close and personal with it.”

Dew cackled when his sleepy mate didn’t have an answer for him.

“You must’ve been having one hell of a dream at least. What about?”

Rain debated coming clean about his late night lake excursion but decided against it for now. He didn’t think it made him look anything less than crazy and he was at least trying to pretend he had himself and his urges under control.

“You.” He said instead. “I dreamed abut you.”

He wasn’t telling a lie. His dreams upon returning to the Abbey had indeed all featured Dew in one regard or another.

That seemed to take the boisterous wind out of Dew’s sails somewhat, a slightly bashful blush rising in his cheeks as it always did in the face of Rain’s easy honesty.

“I also dreamed about you.” He said, biting his lip and not meeting Rain’s gaze for a moment.

Rain wished he could crawl inside of Dew’s head and get a scene-by-scene replay of what he seemed to be enjoying recalling.

“Oh yeah?” Sensing his chance to turn the tables on Dew, Rain pulled him closer to speak directly into his ear, making him shiver. “What exactly did you dream about, hmm?”

“Not just… that.” Dew coughed, burying his face into Rain’s neck. “Although you in that new costume was definitely in one of them. But you promise not to laugh?”

“I never would.” Rain said with all sincerity, intrigued now even as the potential details of not just that ran laps around his brain.

“I dreamed we were back in the Pit.” Dew started, suddenly hesitant.

Rain shifted his hold, pressing his lips gently to Dew’s hairline as he recognised the seriousness in his voice. This wasn’t a situation for teasing, he sensed.

“We were in my realms, in the village I grew up in, watching a group of kits chase lizards around to guess at their future lives, just like I used to do. For the first time since I was their age, I felt this certainty, having you there with me… The same youthful optimism or whatever you want to call what kits always have when they speak of their future mates, I guess.”

Dew laughed softly.

“It’s the first time those memories haven’t felt sad in a long time. I’ve got my mate now, just as I hoped to from playing those games when I was young.”

“You do.” Rain squeezed him close, the sudden moment of open vulnerability taking him by surprise. “And I’ve got mine.”

“Just gotta hope all those lizards I caught meant something.” Dew wriggled to kiss Rain briefly before looking back at him with bright eyes. “I was really, really good at it, you know. We’re owed a eternal life of joy, I’d say.”

Still, there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice that Rain was pretty certain didn’t come from homesickness or nostalgia. It was one he recognised from within himself. The mourning of traditions skipped, expectations left in the dust. They might both be very aware that their lives were better now than they had any right to expect, but equally they couldn’t help but be sad about the loss of the life they had grown up imagining.

Rain couldn’t sit by the lava pools any more than Dew could swim amongst the corals and caves of his realm. In a way that was a small blessing: he didn’t need to think about the next obvious thing he had missed out on, of being able to introduce a mate to his family. It was simpler to blame everything on Dew’s lack of gills

“It’s alright if you do feel sad still, you know?” Rain offered after a while.

“I know.” Dew said simply. “I don’t think I do right now though. Not really. I’ve got you, right here, after all.”

It was Rain’s turn to kiss him then, sweet and soft and just as perfect as every one that had come before.

Of course not everything he had imagined was impossible. Aside from the more nebulous closeness Rain had always dreamed of, which he now saw was even greater than he had thought possible, there were a few things he always imagined doing with his future mate that were still very achievable.

“Will you let me see your marks again?”

Dew blinked at him in the dim light for a few seconds before sitting up and pushing at his sleeves without questioning Rain’s motives. The cuffs got stuck halfway up his forearms, briefly giving him pause until he seemed to say screw it, grabbing it by the back of the neck andyanking the whole shirt off over his head before tossing it to the side like it had personally wronged him.

His skin appeared to glow in the lamplight, looking almost like he was lit from within. Momentarily distracted from his initial quest, Rain took in the sight of the ghoul before him. He appeared as sacrosanct as one of the idol statues in the Chapel, all smooth, polished gold formed in the image of their creator, sacred markings inlaid as silver scars and turquoise and lapis swirls. How could he have gotten so lucky?

“You’re staring.” Dew’s inflection was unreadable.

“I am.” Rain confirmed when Dew made no move to stop him.

Dew looked like he was torn between shrivelling under his scrutiny and basking in it and was actively choosing to lean into the latter. Rain made sure that was a good decision.

“You’re so beautiful.”

The fire ghoul did finally crack then, tugging at Rain until he was sat in Dew’s lap, long legs akimbo he pulled him down for a kiss. From the tightness with which Dew’s tail had twined around his ankle it was clear he wasn’t fully conscious of its movements.

Rain let Dew take the lead, happy to be distracted from his original goal for now by his own personal demon of temptation. Dew held him tightly, warm hands worming beneath his own sleep shirt that Rain had only worn because of his presence in the first place. As Dew began to tug at the hem, his lips never leaving Rain’s, Rain wondered if he would ever need to wear it again. He hoped not; it irritated his gills.

Undeterred by his own lack of coordination, that part of his brain clearly preoccupied right now, Dew continued to pull questioningly at the shirt. Rain reluctantly broke the kiss, lamenting that Dew hadn’t just deigned to shred the fabric so they need not separate. He crossed his arms in front of him to grab the hem and peel it off, the move elegant and sinuous, directly contrasting with the disinterest with which he then tossed it into the corner of the room.

Dew’s lips had fallen open slightly, pursed so beautifully as he looked at Rain that the water ghoul thought it would be a crime not to kiss them again. So he did. Dew pulled away after only a moment though, steadying hands on Rain’s face holding him softly as he whined in displeasure.

“Beautiful.” Dew echoed, wonderment filling his voice. “Can I?”

He hovered a hand over Rain’s sternum, waiting for permission.

Rain wanted nothing more than to feel the warm callouses of his fingers, and he wondered if he would feel a crick in his neck the next morning from how fast he nodded his head in response.

Far more gently than Rain had grown used to seeing him, Dew ran a hand over his skin. He was tracing his mark, Rain realised, the very action he had gotten distracted from.

“I’m sorry.” Dew whispered, leaning in as though speaking directly to Rain’s heart while his finger continued to run over the burnt scar. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He pressed a shuddering kiss to the branded words.

“Don’t be.” Rain murmured into the top of his head. “I’m not sorry to have it. Not anymore.”

“But…” Dew looked up, his loose hair tickling Rain’s stomach he was so close. “It’s hurt you. It’s so cruel. I was so cruel.”

“You were in pain, and confused.” Rain corrected, tipping Dew’s chin up to look into his burning eyes. “You didn’t know what would happen.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive myself.” Dew admitted sadly. “Knowing how much I took from you with it…”

“Do you blame me for yours?” Rain asked instead.

“Of course not!” Dew sounded appalled at the thought, gripping onto his forearms and covering the marks almost protectively. “You couldn’t control them.”

“No more than you could control mine.” Rain reasoned. “They’re just part of who we were always meant to be, I think.”

“I wish I could see it that way.” Sighed Dew. “Every time I think of yours I think that if I’d just been more careful it would be different. I knew you were a water ghoul, I should’ve thought to watch my first words around you just in case, I should—”

“I forgive you.” Rain said simply. “No more should’ves. Now, where was I?”

He took one of Dew’s hands in his, interlacing their fingers together and hoping it was enough to distract Dew from his spiral of shameful thoughts.

“May I?” He gestured at Dew’s arms. “I always used to dream of this, before my marks came in.”

Dew nodded, blinking a few times before letting his arm go slack for Rain to hold.

Tenderly, Rain traced a fingertip along the spiral around Dew’s wrist.

“Nothing can come between us now, not with a bond this long and strong. Your lizards were right.”

Rain pressed a kiss to the blue lines before moving on. He couldn’t help but notice the slight glow his damp lips left behind.

“This one, the sunburst pattern.” Rain paused to admire it properly, the blue rays seeming even brighter against Dew’s warm-toned skin. “I never understood why beauty was a sun shape. I always thought that the moon was far more beautiful. But I see it now. The sun in the sky was never the muse. It was you all along. The real sunlight, the greatest beauty of all.”

Dew’s cheeks flushed so richly at Rain’s words, only further illustrating his point.

“Look at you. The sun wishes it could shine as brightly and brilliantly as you.”

“Now you’re just getting silly.” Dew grumbled as Rain once again couldn’t resist kissing his pouty lips.

“The only thing that’s silly is that it took us so long to get here.”

Dew harrumphed, but Rain knew he couldn’t disagree with that.

“And look what it’s taken.” Rain continued his soft trailing touches towards the upper portion of their markings. “Bravery, to come topside, to settle our early misunderstandings. Kindness, to move past the things that have hurt us.”

Dew’s eyes followed his touch with nothing short of reverence.

“I think…” Rain stroked Dew’s whole arm now, the overall tapestry of his marks rather than its individual pieces. “I think maybe these ones in particular were the ones you caught onto for a reason. They belong to you just as much as they do to me.”

“Which ones wouldn’t, then?” Dew dodged the compliment with a speed that would be almost impressive if Rain hadn’t wanted him to know and understand what he already saw to be the truth.

It didn’t matter though, Rain thought. He had eternity to repeat himself.

“If this is our connection. And this is beauty.” Dew’s free hand traced along the arm holding his. “Kindness and bravery…”

Dew’s touch paused at the edges of the marks that were familiar to him. From there he followed a single line up the inside of his elbow, making Rain shiver at his feather-light touch.

“Then what’s this one?” He paused as the line branched out into many smaller paths curling over Rain’s bicep.

“Family.” Rain couldn’t stop the tinge of sadness leaking into his voice. “Close bonds, a large pod. Like I used to have, I suppose.”

“The pack.” Dew said without missing a beat, full of conviction. “They’re our family now.”

Our family. Rain liked the sound of that. He liked it so much, in fact, that it felt as though it immediately grew roots and embedded itself permanently into his psyche.

Dew pressed a kiss to the bottom of the mark, to the stem of the branching pattern. His fingers lingered there for a while before moving on, slowly trailing upwards towards his shoulder. He grazed over the patch of rough scales there and then along the side of Rain’s neck, narrowly missing his gills.

Rain shivered at the feeling, Dew seemingly knowing just how sensitive the skin around them was from the way he smirked. The expression fell as he followed a new line lower, a lazy looping one mostly covered by his own soul mark.

“What’s this one?” He asked quietly. “The one hidden my horrible words.”

“Pride, or more accurately vanity. Conceit, even.” Rain chuckled slightly.

The irony that Dew’s mark, at one point his greatest shame, had also erased so much of his confidence in himself and his appearance was somewhat amusing now that it occurred to him, especially now that with his time topside he had felt it returning in spades.

“I think your mark covering it might be what helped that side of me fade, too.”

“Fade?” Dew barked out a disbelieving laugh. “I’d love to see how you were before this if that’s true!”

“You know, I never really saw that one in myself.” Rain sniffed, partly for show. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing you look good. Besides, everyone always told me I had good marks, why wouldn’t I be pleased about that?”

Dew continued snickering.

“I wasn’t wrong the first time then, was I, about there not being a mark for humble in sight!”

Rain kept pretending to be offended although he wasn’t in the slightest. This seemed to be bringing Dew amusement though and that was what he wanted, more than him lamenting over the soul mark Rain had already grown to make peace with. The distraction didn’t last long however.

“Your marks are all so beautiful, even aside from their meanings,” Dew sighed sadly, “and then there’s mine… How can you forgive me?”

“It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” Rain said honestly. “There’s hardly anything to forgive. You weren’t to know a moment of temper would do this to me.”

Dew still looked torn.

“I did used to think the contrast of it was ugly. Like a burn that wouldn’t heal.” Rain admitted, taking Dew’s arm in his once more. “Then I saw your marks, and thought the same contrast was so beautiful. I felt jealous. But now?”

Rain pressed a kiss to Dew’s fingertips and held them to his own mark.

“I’ve come around to it. It’s like a reminder of how far we’ve come, a battle scar to be proud of.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that you have to bear it alone though.” Dew said. “I get your pretty marks with such nice meanings and you get me calling you names.”

“I think you have your own scars to wear.” Rain carefully ghosted a finger over one of the raised lines on Dew’s chest to illustrate his words. “Not these, I don’t mean. But mentally. I think you’re still punishing yourself for my mark, even now.”

Dew’s silence said more than any words could.

“I’ll keep telling you that you don’t have to for as long as we have though.” He rubbed a thumb over the line around Dew’s wrist, interlocking their long fingers together. “And I think that’s going to be a while, so you’d better get used to it!”

Finally, Dew smiled again.

“Besides,” Rain purred, leaning in to nose against Dew’s jaw and breathing words directly into his ear. “It could be worse. It could just say nice ass or something.”

Dew giggled, likely at the tickle of Rain’s words as much as anything.

“You do have a nice ass though.”

“Yeah?”

“I knew it!” Dew launched himself up onto his knees, triumphant, hands resting on Rain’s waist for balance. “My mark erased nothing!”

“Now, who’s to say that was the only place that mark appeared?” Rain teased.

“I’d better take a closer look then.” Dew’s eyes flashed at the challenge.

He pressed a single finger to Rain’s chest, pushing lightly. The water ghoul willingly fell backwards, landing softly before Dew prowled forward on hands and knees. Rain felt his breath catch in his throat as Dew smirked at him with all his fangs.

“So, there’s one under here.” Dew stroked over his mark, leaning in to press a kiss to it.

He ran a hand lower, down the centre of Rain’s sternum slow enough that he could stop him at any time. Rain had no intention of that though. He felt the warmth in Dew’s fingers through the layers of skin, bone and muscle, right inside his heart. It quickened at the heat. Dew followed every slow touch with a kiss.

“How about over here.” He brushed the warmth of his palm over the soft curve of Rain’s right pectoral, squeezing oh so slightly before ghosting a thumb over the nipple.

Rain sucked in a breath, body going stiff as every nerve ending suddenly lit up simultaneously. Dew’s touch was electric, like nothing he had ever felt before. It made him feel like he was floating, consumed by a fuzzy kind of bliss.

Dew paused as he froze though, questioning.

“Please.” Rain gasped desperately. “Don’t stop.”

Slowly, more purposefully, Dew swiped his thumb over the pebbled nub again. Rain heard himself whimper, the quiet sound morphing into a yell as Dew followed the motion with a flat pass of his tongue. Rain hadn’t thought that he could feel his touch any more intensely until he did. His hands flew up to hold Dew against him, hands tangling in his hair.

“Nothing here.” Dew whispered smoothly, his breath cooling his saliva and making Rain shiver. “Better keep looking.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, Dew kissed his way across to the other side of his chest, stroking over the defined muscles and following with his mouth. Rain gave in to the overwhelming feeling, letting the soft mattress absorb him as his eyes fell shut.

Dew shifted to sit up, now fully seated on Rain’s hips, and the water ghoul groaned as he pressed into his stiffening cock. He seemed to be aware of what he was doing, smirking as he wiggled under the guise of getting comfy. Rain’s hands fell to Dew’s waist, needing both to hold on for dear life and to feel more of his heat.

Almost gleefully, Dew smoothed both his hands down Rain’s front, over his abs and settling on the slight softness of his stomach. Every touch was both totally new and yet perfectly familiar. Rain hadn’t felt such a sense of overwhelming completeness since they had first kissed, every nerve in his body singing out in delight.

Continuing his slow exploration Dew trailed a finger along the curve of Rain’s hip bones, following the path of one lower until his sleep shorts stopped him and then tracing along the edge of the waistband to drag back up the other. It was there he found what he was looking for, the meandering swirl leading lazily from his hip down under his pyjamas.

With a triumphant hum Dew shuffled backwards so he could lean in and look closer, bringing his face in until his nose was almost touching him. Rain lamented the loss of his weight on him but didn’t get a chance to dwell on it for long before he could feel Dew’s hot breath grazing his skin.

The fire ghoul pressed a kiss to the mark, searing lips connecting right at the point where it vanished beneath fabric. Dew must have been able to tell how hard he was through his thin sleep shorts; slightly to the right and his chin would have been brushing against the obvious bulge. He made no sign to acknowledge that though, even as Rain let out a shuddering groan.

“I like this side of you too, you know.” Dew murmured against the mark, lips tickling. “The self-confidence.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s hot.”

Dew kissed back up his torso then, crawling forwards to plant himself back in Rain’s lap as the water ghoul sat back up to meet him. He ground his hips once more as he pulled Rain into a kiss far messier than any that had come before.

Rain could taste the slightest hint of saltwater on Dew’s tongue. He wanted more, he realised, wanted to taste himself more strongly, wanted to taste both himself and Dew, together.

“You’re hot.”

“I think you’ll find—” Rain’s already tenuous grasp on words was interrupted by another circle of Dew’s hips. “That’s you. Fire ghoul.”

Dew’s laugh was filled both with joy and clear lust. It was obvious that everything about this, about Rain, was utterly delightful to him, their teeth almost colliding as he threw himself into another kiss. He was taking full advantage of his position on top of Rain, as well as the water ghoul’s slowly melting brain, to lead them exactly as he saw fit. Hot really was the only word Rain could conjure to describe it.

With Dew distracted but not ceasing his maddening movements on top of where Rain was straining at the seams of his pants, Rain let his own hands begin to explore. He couldn’t reach far, didn’t want to break the kiss to do so nor did he think Dew would be amused by that, so he settled for roaming them over his back, lean but muscular in a way that hinted at his true deceptive strength.

Rain splayed his large hands wide across his skin, moving them slowly as though he were trying to hold every inch of him at once. His palms stroked over his back, his thumbs stretched to feel the curve of his ribcage, his fingers held to the softness of his waist. He tried to commit every part to memory, not because he feared losing Dew but because he couldn’t think of any other act that could come close to immortalising him as fully as he deserved in that moment.

With every pleased noise Dew made Rain grew a little braver, let the tips of his fingers dance a little lower. He dipped them sightly beneath the waistband of Dew’s pyjama pants, a small question Dew could choose to ignore. He didn’t though, wasting no time in wriggling out of them in a distinctly undignified fashion that made Rain want to grasp him tighter and growl.

Uncoordinated but uncaring, Dew returned to straddling Rain, now wearing only a thin pair of cotton boxers. With one less layer of fabric separating them Rain could feel the heat radiating off of Dew even more strongly, but even that was nothing compared to the heat of Dew’s now bare legs pressed on either side of Rain’s, skin on skin.

The fire ghoul couldn’t seem to get comfortable, wriggling and shifting in such a way that Rain couldn’t stop his hips from bucking upwards into Dew. That seemed to have partly been his intention, judging from how Rain felt his lips spread wide in a smirk against him.

“Do that again.” Dew purred.

Rain didn’t need telling twice. More controlled this time he rolled his hips, slowly pressing the stiffness of his aching cock upwards into Dew’s heat. Their resulting groans harmonised, Dew rocking to meet him. They began to find a shaky rhythm as Rain thrust towards him again, hardly able to consider stopping now he had started, especially not with Dew’s feverish breaths filling his mouth.

“Rain—” Dew panted, sounding as affected as Rain felt already. “Feels so— Lucifer!”

His hand flew to where their bodies met and Rain felt rather than saw Dew press his fingers to himself through his underwear, keening and rolling his whole body into his sudden touch. Rain could do nothing but watch, stunned and almost paralysed by lust as the beautiful demon above him became momentarily lost in chasing the sudden spike of pleasure.

As the wave of unassailable desire that had overcome Dew apparently began to ebb, the fire ghoul blinked rapidly as though not entirely sure when he had lost control of his faculties. His eyes, when Rain was finally able to focus on them, were almost entirely black, his pupils blown wide with lust.

Rain leaned back on his hands to take in the full sight before him. Dew looked simply otherworldly, all flushed and glowing skin, heaving chest and increasingly messy hair all conspiring to make Rain almost want to weep.

“Too much?” Dew panted, although the minute gyrations of his hips didn’t stop completely. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“No.” Rain shook his head hard enough to make himself dizzy, although that was possibly not helped by all the blood in his body currently flowing south. “Never.”

“Can I?” Dew gestured with the hand that had been touching himself, the one not being used for balance, at the large bulge in Rain’s sleep shorts.

The water ghoul didn’t know entirely what he was asking, but he didn’t care. He nodded enthusiastically, delighting in how Dew licked his lips just slightly before leaning forward and kissing him in a way that seemed almost chaste compared to the last few minutes.

For a moment Rain remained in the dark about Dew’s intentions, letting him push him onto his back once more and fuss to ensure he had a pillow behind his head. Rain was grateful for it, not for the comfort of his own neck but rather because the angle gave him the perfect view as Dew shuffled around once more, straddling one of his thighs, one knee placed carefully and tantalisingly between Rain’s legs.

He didn’t have to wait for long to find out as Dew began to grind his hips again, this time against the long line of Rain’s muscular thigh. Rain ached to touch, to be touched, but he was too far gone already to give Dew all the softness and intention he wanted to. Next time, he told himself. He settled instead for running his hands up and down Dew’s ribs, thumbing over the soft skin covering his hip bones. Dew moaned loudly at his touch so he was clearly doing something right.

Then, once Dew had found his rhythm, Rain lost the ability to do more than just hold on for dear life, his tail also twining around Dew’s leg once more like a mooring line in a storm as Dew finally touched him where he needed it most. Slowly, torturously so, the fire ghoul’s burning hot hand came to rest over the bulge in Rain’s pants.

His touch was tentative at first, testing the waters but clearly finding them warm and pleasant as the pressure of his hand grew firmer. Slowly, oh so maddeningly slowly, Dew began rubbing his hand over his clothed cock, fingers dragging over the aching length beneath in a quiet exploration. Dew was barely moving yet it felt like so much.

The fire ghoul’s hands were so hot, their heat mixing with the raging inferno he had lit inside of Rain as the burning pleasure of his touch already began to spread through his body. Rain had never felt such intensity, never wanted this to end even as he sensed the familiar beginnings of his body rising towards an edge. It was still a way off for now which he was grateful for, given that he had never felt it build so quickly before. He wanted to exist in this moment forever, and Dew was still only touching him over his sleep pants.

They didn’t stay that way for long though. Dew paused his grind on Rain’s thigh, the burning heat of his cunt settling in one place for a moment to pull at Rain’s waistband.

“Please?” He asked, voice an octave lower than usual and totally ragged already.

Rain had no words, couldn’t make his vocal chords form complex sounds if his life depended on it. He jerked his chin, hoping it resembled a nod enough for Dew to understand.

It seemed to work. Dew pulled again at the elastic, Rain lifting his hips so Dew could shimmy the shorts just low enough to pull Rain free. He mewled softly as the air of the room hit him, feeling himself throb under Dew’s light fingertips.

His hand was even hotter, bare skin on bare skin. Dew licked his lips again and for a moment Rain wondered if he was going to take him into his mouth. He wasn’t sure he would survive that right now, already far too worked up.

Dew didn’t though, settling for wrapping long, deft fingers around him. He began to stroke, slowly at first. Rain had already been leaking precum and that didn’t stop now, Dew gathering some on an upstroke to ease the glide of his hand.

It was like nothing Rain had ever felt. Dew’s hand was so hot, squeezing him just right. It made Rain wonder how it would feel to be inside Dew, to bury himself in the hot clutch of his body, should he even want that.

When Rain eventually found the wherewithal to open his eyes the sight before him almost sent him over the edge there and then. Dew, head thrown back in pleasure, had his hand in his own pants now as he writhed against Rain’s thigh and his own fingers. Where the fabric pulled low Rain could see the start of a trail of wiry hairs that he was struck with the sudden urge to scratch his blunt glamoured fingernails through.

What really embedded itself in Rain’s brain though were his arms, bearing the marks they now shared. His marks originally, on Dew, with his hands on both himself and Rain. It lit a whole other fire in him, one that was some kind of possessive, that felt like a claim.

He didn’t hear the growl building in his chest until it was too late, until Dew’s eyes were locked onto his and an awed and delighted expression was dawning on his face alongside the slight slackness of his own pleasure. Rain didn’t try and stop himself, instead giving in to his impulses and letting his hands fall to grip Dew’s thighs as they continued to flex beneath his touch, his claws just ghosting over the skin without threatening to puncture it.

Dew was vocalising with every pant now. Rain wasn’t sure he was entirely aware of that either, his movements also getting less coordinated. Rain was so close to the edge himself; he fought to keep his eyes on Dew as the fire within him started to burn out of control.

It was worth it though as he saw Dew tumble headfirst into his own climax first, his whole body seizing up. His thighs clenched around Rain’s, the most agonisingly wonderful noise falling from his lips. His eyes flutter closed and his jaw fell open, the very picture of a ghoul entirely consumed by pleasure.

Even while he rode out the tsunami of ecstasy clearly washing over him he didn’t release his hand from around Rain’s cock, nor did he stop the motion of his fist even as his motions grew jerky. He squeezed slightly harder than he meant to right as Rain’s tip was within his fist, speeding up as he fought not to lose focus despite his own orgasm.

That was all it took for Rain to come crashing over the cliff after him. He didn’t think he had ever come so hard, feeling like Dew was milking his brains out through his cock. His vision went white at the edges, tunnel vision focussing on no one but Dew. Rain was glad he was lying down as he didn’t think his muscles would hold him up otherwise.

Of all the sounds that filtered through the rushing in his ears, Rain had least expected to hear a delighted peal of laughter from Dew. The ghoul wiped his hands on Rain’s pyjamas before collapsing onto his chest, narrowly avoiding Rain’s mess. The only muscles Rain could get to work brought his arms to wrap around him while Dew’s tail forced its way between Dew’s thigh and Rain’s own tail, braiding the two together until Rain’s also got the memo.

“Why haven’t we been doing this for months?” Dew gasped, breathless.

“You tell me!” Rain managed, his own breath coming back to him faster but his heartbeat still refusing to settle.

“You’re so perfect.” He continued. “I cant believe you’re mine.”

“Completely yours.” Dew agreed fervently. “Until the Pit freezes over.”

From the way Dew was suddenly curling up on his chest, voice growing sleepy, it was clear he was about to crash. It was the middle of the night after all: the nap had ruined their sense of time.

Rain rolled them both to the edge of the bed and then to their feet before Dew could actually fall asleep though. His suddenly exhausted brain still knew that they shouldn’t get too comfy while they needed to clean up. Rain sent Dew in the direction of the bathroom with a chaste kiss and a clean pair of boxers while he wriggled out of his own, wiping himself roughly with them before throwing them straight into the laundry and slipping into a fresh pair too. It didn’t escape his attention that much like how the marks on his lower abdomen were still lit up from his own release, the patch of thigh where Dew had been grinding was also glowing faintly.

Before that thought could make him go truly insane, Rain distracted himself by arranging the nest while he waited for Dew. He was so tired he could hardly appreciate the sight of Dew in his clothes when he emerged, face still flushed and the too-big underwear barely hanging onto his narrow hips. Rain had forever to admire that though.

The fire ghoul pulled him back into bed with another kiss and a hand slotting into his with such perfect ease it was as though they were designed to fit together. It was a unspoken decision that Dew stayed the night.

༻△⋆₊˚.⛤△⛤.˚₊⋆△༺

Dew had never really liked anyone touching his marks before, not even Aether. It had come as a surprise to him, therefore, just how much he loved Rain touching them. It was something only the water ghoul could do. Dew began to wonder if maybe it had never felt right before not because of his complicated feelings around them but because they weren’t just a piece of him, but of Rain too. It felt right when Rain touched them, like a missing piece slotting home.

His gentle fingers stroking along Dew’s arm had been electric, the feeling so perfectly new and exciting he could hardly wrap his head around the sensations his nerves were reporting back on. Yet it also felt as natural as if Rain were following paths carves centuries prior, his finger settling into well-worn and familiar grooves.

Even greater than the physical sensations though was the way the reverence with which Rain acted about them made him feel. He treated them so tenderly and yet with the lazy familiarity of having seen them every day of his life, quite literally knowing them like the back of his hand. The way he talked about them with Dew granted the fire ghoul an almost powerful feeling in the equality with which he treated the marks both on his body and on Dew’s, acting like Dew’s arms were an extension of his own body.

Of course what had really made Dew aware of his own power had been making Rain fall apart beneath him. Everything about Rain losing himself to his pleasure at Dew’s hands had been simply beautiful, there was no other word for it. Every pained expression of ecstasy, every tiny sound, each jerk of his hips and agonising moment of pleasure all brought about by Dew. He couldn’t believe he was so lucky that he got to be the catalyst for every one.

His water ghoul truly was an exquisite miracle, in every way. Dew had seen his body before, but never had he felt like he was allowed to truly look at him until now, let alone with the intention of following his gaze with his reverent touch. He looked like the figures artists made statues out of, muses so beautiful that immortalising them in stone seemed a wholly inadequate response.

Even that paled in comparison to the beauty within him though. Every word, every look, every action; they all served to make it abundantly clear just how special a ghoul Rain was, how much compassion and adoration lived within his heart. A reluctant part of Dew’s brain, hurt by a lifetime of misunderstanding, thought it impossible that he could truly deserve Rain and yet he strove to convince Dew of it with every breath.

The trust Rain put in him, the complete and total handing over of control, all of it was intoxicating. Dew didn’t think he would ever get enough of it.

He hadn’t planned for things to pan out how they did when he had woken after his nap to find Rain half dozing beside him. he had thought they would just kiss for a while, their new favourite activity, and then maybe fall back asleep in one another’s arms. Yet kisses had turned to exploratory touches and before Dew knew it he had Rain’s clothed cock weighing heavy in his hand and absolutely no desire to let go.

Even his dick was beautiful, Dew thought, aware that he might be going slightly mad with his adoration of the water ghoul. His smooth head had been flushed such a rich shade of purple it had made his mouth water just looking at it, made it do so now at the memory. He wanted to taste, to seal his lips around it and feel the softness of its skin against them as he sunk down until he felt him at the back of his throat and could kiss his lips to the scales around its base.

Rain’s pyjamas had been in the way, blocking him from truly taking in the patch of iridescent, rainbow flecks that speckled his skin in place of hair. He was sure they must be as beautiful as the scales dotting the rest of him, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time on removing his shorts, not when it would have taken up precious seconds where he could have been stroking him instead. Next time he was just going to shred them, Dew decided.

The same went for his own boxers, Dew settling for shoving a hand down them in lieu of having to cease his grinding on Rain’s sculpted thigh for even a second. No more waiting, he decided. He wanted everything, and anything that stood in his way was merely collateral damage.

Rain’s body might run quite a bit colder than Dew’s, but he knew now that his cock was definitely not cold in his hand. It had pulsed hot under his fingers, eager and leaking.

Dew had come so quickly, grinding on Rain with his hand down his pants as he stroked over Rain, the feeling of bringing the water ghoul to the edge with him surely not helping his own stamina. There was just something about Rain that made everything feel so much more intense. Everywhere he touched him was like unlocking a new place to feel pleasure, his whole body an unending erogenous zone.

He wanted so badly to feel Rain’s touch too. Dew knew he hadn’t given him a chance to before as he had too much fun enjoying the power trip of reducing him to a quivering mess, melting his brain out through his ears. Next time Dew would show more patience, he promised himself. He would give Rain his own chance to explore his body, would let himself enjoy the water ghoul’s undoubtedly worshipful touch without getting greedy.

It's day three, and Dew is being an absolute fucking gentleman about it.

This is the part nobody warns you about, when they tell you about being a vampire. They tell you about the teeth and the speed and the sun, and they leave out the part where you spend most of your existence aware of every living thing in a thirty-foot radius and you have to choose, constantly, second by second, to not be a problem about it.

Dew has gotten good at it over the years. He can sit in the ministry kitchen at eight in the morning with a cup of coffee he doesn't need, and he can let Aether's heartbeat just be a thing happening across the room. He can let Cumulus pad past him in socked feet without doing anything weird about the warm soft animal of her, and he can be normal. Dew is so normal.

Dew is, on the spectrum of vampires existing in close quarters with food, an absolute goddamn saint.

Rain walks into the kitchen and Dew puts the coffee down because his hand has gone unsteady.

"Morning," Rain says, not looking at him.

"Morning," Dew says, which is an acceptable thing to say.

Rain crosses to the kettle. He's wearing the big hoodie, the gray one with the thumb holes that he stole off Mountain a year ago and has refused to give back.

The hood is up.

Dew watches him fill the kettle and set it on the burner and stand there with his back to the room, both hands braced on the counter, head down. Watches him take a slow breath like he's counting through something. Watches him roll his shoulders once, carefully, the way you do when your whole body is a low-grade complaint.

Dew looks down at his coffee.

It's been three days. Dew noticed it on day one — sensed it before Rain did, probably, the way the scent of him had shifted by about half a degree on Monday afternoon, gone from the wet stone and watercress thing Rain usually is to something a little richer underneath, copper sitting under the rain, the unmistakable announcement of a body doing what bodies do.

Dew had nearly dropped a plate.

He'd spent the rest of Monday white-knuckling through it, not because he was going to do anything about it — he wasn't, he wouldn't, he's a gentleman — but because his entire nervous system had lit up like a switchboard and refused to dim back down.

By Tuesday he had himself in hand. He was managing.

By Wednesday, today, day three, he had noticed the other thing.

Rain won't look at him.

Not in a dramatic way. Rain isn't avoiding him to make a point. Rain is avoiding him the way you avoid a sore tooth — not even consciously, just routing around it. Slipping out of rooms when Dew comes in, going to bed early, eating dinner at the counter instead of at the table.

They haven't slept in the same bed since Sunday night. On Monday Rain had said I think I'm gonna crash in my own room, I'm restless, don't wanna kick you, and on Tuesday he'd said I'm just gonna read for a bit, don't wait up, and last night he hadn't said anything at all, just hadn't come.

Dew isn't going to make a thing about it.

Dew is going to drink his coffee, and he's going to let Rain have his kettle and his hoodie and his three feet of counter space, and he's going to be normal about it until Rain decides to be normal about it, and that's the plan. That is the entire plan.

Dew has been a vampire for a long time and he has gotten very good at waiting.

Rain pours the hot water into his mug. The teabag goes in. The spoon. Three slow stirs. He stands there with both hands wrapped around the ceramic, and Dew watches the line of his shoulders, the way his head is still tipped down, the way the hood casts a shadow across his jaw, and Dew thinks, very clearly: he is miserable, and he is hiding from me, and I don't know how to ask him why without making it worse.

"Hey," Dew says, before he can stop himself. "You okay?"

Rain's shoulders go up half an inch.

"Yeah," he says, to the mug. "Just tired."

"Okay," Dew says.

Rain takes the mug and leaves the kitchen, doesn't look at Dew on the way out.

Dew sits at the table with his now cold coffee and listens to Rain's footsteps go down the hall and stop. The door opens, closes, the quiet click of a lock.

Right, Dew thinks.

He drinks the coffee. It tastes like nothing. He sits there for another ten minutes, just to prove to himself that he can, just to prove that he is not going to follow, and then he gets up and rinses his mug and goes to find something to do with his hands.

⸸

He finds Rain on the couch at one in the morning.

Dew has been trying to read for three hours. The book is a perfectly good book — Cumulus pressed it on him last week, said it would gut him, and on a normal night Dew would have been gutted by now, but tonight every sentence has been sliding off his eyes like rain off a windshield. He's been on the same page for forty minutes.

The Abbey is quiet. The fire in the den has burned down to coals. He'd gone looking for a glass of water and walked through the living room and stopped.

Rain is asleep on the couch.

The hoodie is still on.

The hood is down now, and his hair is a mess, falling across his forehead the way it does when he hasn't bothered with it. He's curled on his side facing the back of the couch, knees drawn up, one hand tucked under his cheek and the other clutching at the front of the hoodie like he was holding his own stomach when he went under. There's a half-empty mug of tea on the coffee table — different tea than the morning, this one with the lemon-and-ginger smell Rain reaches for when he's hurting. A heating pad has slid off his hip and is making a faint warm noise on the cushion behind him.

Dew stands in the doorway and doesn't move.

It would be a kindness, he thinks, to leave. It would be a kindness to back out of the room and let Rain sleep and pretend tomorrow that he never saw this. Never saw the heating pad or the second mug or the small defensive curl of Rain's body around itself.

It would be a gentleman's kindness.

But the scent is impossible at this distance.

Dew's mouth floods. He keeps his teeth where they belong with an effort that feels almost physical, like holding a door shut against a strong wind. He stays in the doorway and he doesn't move. Just watches Rain breathe, slow and shallow, the rise and fall of the hoodie under his chin, and he thinks —

Oh. Oh, baby. You've been carrying this alone.

He doesn't realize he's crossed the room until he's at the couch.

He kneels down next to it. Slow. Quiet. He's not going to touch — he's just going to pick up the heating pad and put it back where it goes, settle the blanket over Rain's shoulders, leave him be. He's just doing a small kind thing in the dark and then he's leaving. That's the plan.

That's the entire —

Rain's eyes open.

They go wide for one half-second of unprocessed sleep, and then they focus, and land on Dew's face. Dew watches it happen in real time — the recognition and the immediate hot flash of caught, the way Rain's whole face shutters down into something defensive before he's even all the way awake.

"Hey," Dew says, very softly. "Hi. It's just me."

"What time is it," Rain says. His voice is rough.

"Late. One-ish. I was getting water."

"Oh." Rain pushes himself up onto one elbow. The hoodie has ridden up at his hip; he tugs it down with the hand that isn't holding his weight. He won't quite look at Dew. "Sorry. I fell asleep."

"It's okay."

"I should go to bed."

"Yeah."

Neither of them moves.

Dew is still kneeling next to the couch. He can see Rain's pulse in his throat — a small steady visible thing, faster than it should be, his body giving away what his face is trying to hide. He can smell the heating pad and the ginger tea and Rain himself, the watercress and the copper and underneath it the faint sour-sweet tang of three nights of bad sleep.

Rain's eyes are tired. There are shadows under them that weren't there on Sunday.

"Rain," Dew says.

"Don't."

"Okay."

"I just —" Rain swallows. His jaw works. He still isn't looking at Dew. "I'm fine. I'm just gonna go to bed. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay," Dew says again. And then, because he can't help it, because three days of being a gentleman has worn through him in one specific place: "You don't have to hide from me."

Rain goes very still.

"I'm not," he says, to the back of the couch.

"Baby."

"I'm not."

"Rain. Look at me."

Rain doesn't.

Rain stares at the back of the couch for a long moment.

Dew watches his throat work, watches his free hand curl tighter into the hem of the hoodie, watches him try to assemble a face that will get him out of this room without having this conversation.

Watches the assembly fail.

Rain's eyes close. His mouth twists.

"I didn't want you to know," he says.

"I know."

Rain's eyes open. He looks at Dew, finally, properly, and his face is doing something complicated — embarrassment and exhaustion and something else under both of those, something Dew has been watching him carry around for three days without a name.

"You know?"

"Sweetheart. I'm a vampire."

"Lucifer's taint."

"I knew on Monday."

"Are you fucking kidding me."

"I wasn't gonna say anything —"

"You knew on Monday —"

"I wasn't gonna make it a thing! I just — you were ducking me, and I didn't want to push, and I —"

"Lucifer's taint," Rain says again, and he puts his free hand over his face. He laughs once, a small wrecked sound that isn't quite a laugh, and Dew watches his shoulders shake and cannot tell for one terrible second whether Rain is laughing or crying or both. When Rain drops his hand and his eyes are wet but he is, in fact, laughing, in the awful way you laugh when something has been sitting on your chest for three days and somebody has finally, gently, lifted it off.

"Come here," Dew says.

Rain comes. He sits up properly and swings his legs down and Dew settles on the couch next to him, close but not touching, giving him the half-inch of space to decide. Rain takes about two seconds and then he tips sideways into Dew's shoulder and stays there. Dew puts an arm around him.

Rain is warm. Rain is never this warm — the water ghoul of him, the crisp cool sea under his skin — but tonight he's warmer, the low banked heat of a body working hard at something.

Dew lets himself, finally, breathe him in.

"I thought you'd be weird about it," Rain says, into his shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because — I don't know. Because it's gross. Because it's — I don't know. I didn't want you looking at me different."

"Different how?"

"Different like —" Rain's voice is muffled. "Different like you were thinking about it. Different like you were remembering. I don't want — when you look at me I want you to just look at me, I don't want you to —"

"Rain."

"— I don't want it to be a thing —"

"Rainy. Baby. Hey. Look at me."

Rain looks up.

Dew puts his hand on Rain's jaw. Very gentle. Very deliberate. He turns Rain's face up toward his own and he holds Rain's eyes. He speaks slowly, because he wants Rain to hear every word.

"I have been looking at you all week. I have been looking at you, and at nothing else, and I have been losing my mind."

Rain's breath catches.

"I have been," Dew says, "a paragon of restraint. I have been a monk. I haven't said anything because you weren't saying anything and I thought you wanted space and I was trying to give it to you. And I will keep giving it to you. If you tell me right now that you want to go to bed and sleep this off and never talk about it again, I will walk you to your door and I will kiss you on the forehead and I will not say a word."

"Okay," Rain whispers.

"But baby. If you are hiding from me because you think I don't want you right now."

Rain's eyes go wet again.

"I want you," Dew says, "so bad I have been chewing through the inside of my own mouth for three days."

"Dew."

"I want you more like this," Dew says. "Not despite. More. Because your body is doing the most magnificent fucking thing it does and you are walking around in it and I'm supposed to act normal and I'm — I'm not normal, sweetheart, I'm not, I'm —"

"Fucking hell, shut up," Rain says, and kisses him.

Rain kisses him hard. Rain kisses him like he's been holding it in his teeth for three days, which — yeah, probably, Dew can taste it, can taste the ginger and the want and the small wrecked relief of being everything he needed to hear.

Dew kisses him back and tries very hard not to bite, not yet, not until they have talked about it like grown men, and Rain is making a small sound into his mouth that is going to make talking about it like grown men extremely difficult.

Dew pulls back half an inch.

"Hey," he says.

"What."

"I need to ask you something."

"Fucking — what."

Dew puts his forehead against Rain's. He can feel Rain's pulse under his palm where his hand is still on Rain's jaw. He can feel his own teeth, aching, lower than they should be in his mouth.

"Can I have you," he says, "all the way. Tonight. The whole thing. Mouth on you, mouth in you, drink from you — all of it. Can I?"

Rain doesn't answer for a second. Just breathes.

"You want —" His voice has gone small. "You want — that. Like. With."

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Rain."

"I just want you to be sure —"

"I have been sure since Monday, my love, I have been sure for seventy-two hours, please —"

"Okay," Rain says. "Okay. Yeah. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes. Take me to bed."

⸸

Dew gets him there carefully — one arm under Rain's knees and one behind his shoulders, which Rain protests on principle for about four seconds and then gives up on, going boneless against Dew's chest with a small surprised exhale. Rain is heavier than he looks and Dew doesn't care. He would carry him through hell if he had to.

For now he carries him down the hall to his own room because his bed is bigger and the sheets are darker and he is not, all things considered, planning to be precious about the laundry.

He sets Rain down on the bed and Rain looks up at him. The hoodie has ridden up again and Dew can see the strip of his stomach above the waistband of his sweats, the soft pale blue line of him, the faint shadow of hair below his navel, and Dew thinks: I am going to be so fucking good to you. I am going to be so unbelievably good to you.

"Hoodie off," he says.

Rain hesitates.

"Or not," Dew says immediately. "Hoodie on. Hoodie stays! Whatever you —"

"No, I —" Rain sits up. Pulls the hoodie off over his head in one motion, the way he does, and his hair goes everywhere. He doesn't bother fixing it.

He's not wearing anything under it. His chest is bare and his scars are silver-pink in the lamplight and Dew has seen them a hundred times and every time it's the same — the gratitude of being allowed to look.

Rain meets his eyes, a little defiant.

"There's my boy," Dew says, soft, and watches Rain's whole face do something.

"Don't be weird about it."

"I'm not being weird about it. I'm being normal. Look at me being normal."

"You're being so weird about it."

"I'm being so normal." Dew climbs onto the bed and settles over him. Rain's hands come up to his sides, find the hem of his t-shirt and push it up. Dew helps, gets it off, throws it somewhere. "I'm being aggressively normal. Look at me. Normal is what I am."

"Your fangs are out."

"That's normal for me."

"Dew —"

"Sweats off, baby."

Rain goes quiet.

Dew watches him. Doesn't push. Just hovers there, his hands on either side of Rain's ribs, his weight on his knees, and lets Rain get there on his own. Rain's throat works. His eyes flicker down and then back up to Dew's face.

"It's gonna be messy," Rain says.

"Yeah."

"Like. Really messy."

"Rainy. Baby. Please."

"Okay."

Rain lifts his hips and pushes the sweats and the underwear down together. Dew helps him get them off, and then there's nothing left between them and Rain is looking at the ceiling instead of at Dew and Dew is, for one long moment, just looking.

Rain is flushed. The blood in him is close to the surface tonight — at his cheeks, his throat, the tops of his shoulders, the flat plane of his chest going navy down the sternum — and the scent of him at this distance is so much that Dew has to close his eyes for a second and just exist through it. The wet stone. The copper.

Dew has been alive for a long time and he has wanted a lot of things and he is not sure, in this moment, that he has ever wanted anything the way he wants the boy under him right now.

"Hey," he says.

Rain doesn't look.

"Hey. Look at me. Look at me, sweetheart, c'mon."

Rain looks.

"You are," Dew says, "the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen. I want you to know that. I want you to hear me say it. I want you to remember it tomorrow when you are being mean to yourself about whatever you are going to be mean to yourself about. Okay?"

"Okay," Rain whispers.

"Good." Dew bends down. Puts his mouth on Rain's throat — not biting, just mouthing, just feeling the pulse against his lips. "Now I'm gonna eat."

"Unholy fucking shit, Dew."

"Sorry. Was that too much?"

"That was so much —"

"I'll be normal."

"You will not —"

Dew laughs into his throat. Rain laughs too, a startled, wrecked little thing, the kind that's half-relief.

Dew kisses him under the jaw, and then lower, mouth working down the line of his throat, the dip of his collarbone, the slope of his sternum. He goes slow. He has time. He's going to take his time.

Rain's hands have come up into his hair and his fingers are trembling and Dew kisses every inch of him on the way down, every silver-pink line, every soft place, every freckle. He spends a long time at Rain's chest because he wants to and because Rain makes a noise when he does that he hasn't heard before, a small unguarded sound that goes straight through Dew's spine.

"You taste so good," Dew says, into his sternum.

"Don't say shit like that —"

"You taste so good, baby —"

"I'm eating nothing but garlic for the next year —"

"You smell so good I've been insane for days, I've been —"

"Dew, please —"

"Please what."

Rain's hands tighten in his hair.

"Please down," Rain says, voice gone thin. "Please, please go down, please —"

"Yeah," Dew says. "Yeah, okay. Okay, sweetheart. I've got you."

He settles between Rain's thighs and he takes a second, just a second, to put his hands on the soft insides of them. He pushes them gently apart and lets himself look. Rain has thrown one arm over his eyes. The flush has gone all the way down his chest, his stomach, his thighs — and the mess of him is right there, dark and slick and red.

Dew's mouth is watering so badly he has to swallow before he can speak.

"Hey," he says.

"Don't describe it —"

"I wasn't going to."

"You were absolutely gonna describe it —"

"Only a little bit of it."

"Dew."

"Just a little."

"I hate you."

"I love you," Dew says.

Rain's arm comes off his eyes.

"You're a fucking menace," he says. His voice cracks in the middle. "You're an absolute fucking — I love you too, would love you more if you'd fucking get down there —"

Dew doesn't wait another second.

He puts his mouth on him and the taste is — Lucifer, the taste is —

Dew makes a sound he is not proud of, a low broken thing right into the heat of him. Rain's whole body jerks once and then goes pliant, thighs falling further open, hands flying back to Dew's hair, and Dew settles in.

He's wanted this for three days and now he has it and he is not going to rush.

He works Rain open with his tongue, slow and thorough, tasting every part of him. The slick of him, the copper of him, the small frantic pulse of him — and Rain is making noises Dew has never heard him make, small broken syllables that aren't words yet. His hips cant up to chase Dew's mouth and Dew lets him, hands on Rain's thighs holding them open, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the soft skin.

"Look at you," Dew says into him. "Look at you, fuck, you're — you're making this for me, you're —"

"Dew —"

"You're making it for me, baby, you're making it —"

"Dew —"

He gets his mouth on Rain's cock, the small flushed perfect thing of it, hard against his tongue, and Rain shouts.

Rain shouts and his hips come off the bed and Dew laughs, low and ragged, and pins him back down with a forearm across his hips and keeps going. Sucks him. Works him with his tongue. Goes back down lower and licks into him properly, sloppy and wet and unhurried.

Rain is crying. Dew can hear it, the wet hitching of his breath, the small sobs catching in his throat. He comes up off him just long enough to say, "good?"

"Yes," Rain sobs.

"You want me to keep going?"

"Yes —"

"You want me to make you come on my mouth, sweetheart?"

"Yes, please, please, please —"

"Yeah," Dew says. "Yeah, baby. C'mere. Come on, c'mere —"

He goes back down. Mouth and fingers both this time, two fingers slid into him slow, curling up, his mouth on Rain's cock, and Rain breaks. Rain breaks beautifully — back arching off the bed, one hand fisted in Dew's hair so hard it hurts, the other clutching at the sheet.

The sound he makes is a high wrecked thing that Dew is going to remember for the rest of his unnatural life.

He comes against Dew's tongue and Dew works him through it, slow and gentle now, sucking him soft until Rain's hand in his hair tugs once, weak, too much, and Dew comes up.

His mouth is red.

He can feel it. He can taste it. He licks his lips and Rain is looking at him, eyes wet, chest heaving, mouth open — and the look on Rain's face is something Dew does not have a word for.

"Come here," Rain whispers.

Dew crawls up him. Settles his weight along Rain's body, careful of the mess, and Rain pulls him down and kisses him — kisses him on a mouth that tastes like his own blood and slick and come — and Rain doesn't flinch, doesn't pull back, just licks into Dew's mouth like he wants to know what he tastes like through Dew's tongue, and Dew —

Dew might be the one crying now. He's not sure. There's wet on his face and he doesn't know whose it is.

"I'm not done," he says, against Rain's mouth.

"Oh fuck."

"I'm not, baby, I told you, I told you the whole thing —"

"You're gonna kill me —"

"Just one more. Just a little one. Will you let me —"

"Yes, fuck, yes, do it —"

Dew kisses down his body again. Slower this time. He's not in a hurry — Rain has come once and Rain will come again. He kisses Rain's stomach and his hip and the soft place at the crease of his thigh where the pulse runs close to the skin. He nuzzles in. Breathes him in.

Rain's hand is back in his hair, gentler now, fingers stroking.

"Here?" Dew murmurs, against the femoral.

"Yes."

"Gonna feel good. Promise."

"I know. I know it does. Do it."

Dew puts his teeth in slow — careful, careful, he has practiced this on Rain enough times to know exactly how — and Rain's whole body goes loose under him at the first pull, the way it always does, the bite-high that Rain falls into like falling into warm water.

Dew drinks slow.

The taste of him is thunderous tonight, richer than Dew has ever had him, the iron-bright shock of him doubled by what his body is already doing, and Dew has to hold himself back from taking too much, from taking and taking and taking, because what he wants is to drain Rain dry and curl up inside his ribcage and never come out, and what he can have is a careful measured mouthful, the way you sip something precious.

He takes what he needs and pulls off. Licks the punctures closed.

Rain is gone. Staring at the ceiling with his mouth half-open and his pupils blown out and his hand limp in Dew's hair and there's a small dreamy smile on his face that Dew has only ever put there with his teeth.

Dew kisses the bite mark. Kisses up his thigh. Kisses his hip and his stomach and his chest and his throat and his mouth, slow and thorough. Rain kisses him back lazily, lips parting under his, tongue meeting tongue, and Dew can taste him in his own mouth — copper and watercress and the impossible sweetness underneath — and he thinks, again, the way he has been thinking all night: I love you. I love you.

I love you.

He says it out loud. He can't help it.

"I know," Rain murmurs. His eyes are closed. "Me too. I love you. Fuck."

"You good?"

"Mmhm."

"Words, baby."

"M'good. M'so good. M'a puddle."

"Yeah you are," Dew huffs.

"Don't be smug —"

"I'm not being smug."

"You're being so smug —"

"I'm being normal."

Rain laughs. It's small and breathless, hardly anything at all, and Dew kisses him again — slower this time, lazier, because Rain is soft beneath him and getting softer and they have all the time in the world.

He would do this for the rest of the night.

He would do this for the rest of his unnatural life.

He kisses Rain's mouth and the corner of his jaw and he settles a little of his weight down onto Rain's body, just a little, just so Rain can feel him —

Rain shifts under him.

It's a small movement. A subtle one. Rain's hips canting up half an inch into the press of Dew's body, the kind of motion he probably doesn't know he's making, the body asking while the mind drifts.

Dew freezes.

He pulls back just enough to look at Rain's face.

Rain's eyes are still closed. The dreamy smile is still there. But there's a small line of want between his eyebrows now and his mouth has gone slightly open and his hips are still pressed up against Dew's, soft and insistent, and Dew thinks: oh.

"Baby."

"Mm."

"Hey. Rainy. Look at me."

Rain cracks his eyes open. Pupils still huge, the bite-high riding him soft and slow.

"You want more, sweetheart?"

Rain blinks at him.

"...mhm."

"Words, baby. Use your words. You want me to keep going?"

"Yeah," Rain says. His voice is drugged-small. Bite-soft. "Yeah, please. I'm — I'm still — I want —"

"You want me to fuck you?"

A small wrecked sound bubbles out of the deepest part of Rain. His hand finds Dew's hip and curls.

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Dew says, soft, and kisses the corner of his mouth. "Okay, baby. Yeah."

He pushes himself up enough to get his sweats off. He hasn't bothered with them all evening — they've been hanging low and forgotten on his hips since Rain pulled his t-shirt off — and now he shoves them down and kicks them somewhere. His cock is hard, has been hard, and Rain is looking at it now, eyes half-open, with a soft pleased look that goes through Dew like a hand around his throat.

"There you are," Rain chirps happily.

"Yeah, baby."

"C'mere."

Dew settles down between Rain's thighs again — different this time, higher up, his cock against the heat of Rain's body, the slick of him meeting Dew. Rain makes a sound under him that is almost a sob, and Dew kisses him through it, kisses him slow and careful, lining himself up with one hand while the other braces on the mattress next to Rain's head.

"You okay?"

"Mhm."

"You sure? We don't have to —"

"Dew. Please."

"Okay. Okay, sweetheart."

He pushes in.

Slow. Slow as anything. Rain is so wet that there's no resistance — just the long slow give of his body opening, hot and slick and welcoming. Dew has to close his eyes for a second because it's almost too much — the mess of him slipping warm between them, the smell of him filling the whole room, the way Rain's hands come up to grip Dew's shoulders and hold on. Almost too much.

Almost.

Dew bottoms out and stops.

Holds there.

Rain's breath is shaking. Dew is shaking. He puts his forehead against Rain's and breathes.

"Good?" he asks, ragged.

"So good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Dew, please, please —"

"Yeah, baby. Yeah."

He starts to move.

Deep and slow, finding the angle, watching Rain's face — and Rain's face is doing something Dew is going to think about forever. The bite-high softness mixed with the new sharp want of it, mouth open, eyes wet, no defenses anywhere on him. Just open. Just here.

Three days ago Rain wouldn't look at him in the kitchen and now Rain is staring up at him like Dew is the only thing in the universe and Dew is —

Dew is going to come embarrassingly fast if he doesn't slow down.

He slows down. He gets his rhythm. Long slow drags of his cock through the slick of Rain, the wet sound of it shameless between them, Rain making small breathy noises with every push in and Dew is —

"Closer," Rain whispers.

"What, baby?"

"Closer, Dew. Please. Closer."

Dew lowers himself all the way down. Chest to chest, mouth to mouth, his weight settling fully onto Rain. Rain moans and Dew kisses it right out of his mouth. Keeps moving, slower now because he has to, shorter strokes because there's no room for long ones, just the deep grind of him into Rain over and over and over.

"Legs around me, sweetheart. C'mon. Up. Wrap 'em up."

Rain's legs come up around his waist. Lock at the ankles. Pull him in closer.

"Good boy."

Rain whimpers.

Dew kisses him through it — kisses his open mouth, kisses the corner of his jaw, kisses the bite mark on the side of his throat from three months ago that scarred soft. Dew can feel Rain's heels pressing into the small of his back, pulling him deeper with every thrust, and Dew thinks: yes. Yes. There you go. There's my boy.

"Look at you," he murmurs, into Rain's ear. "Look at you, sweetheart. So good. So good for me. You feel so good, baby, you feel — fuck, you feel —"

"Dew —"

"You're being so good. So good for me. Taking it so well —"

"Dew —"

"You like that, baby? You like when I tell you?"

"Yes —"

"Yeah you do. Yeah. Good boy. Good boy, Rain, look at you, look at how good you're being —"

Rain breaks differently this time.

Not the high wrecked shout of the first one — this is softer, lower, a long shuddering wave of it that just keeps going, his whole body going tight around Dew's cock and then loose and then tight again, his face turned into Dew's neck, his teeth catching on Dew's shoulder.

Dew fucks him through it slow and steady and keeps talking, keeps murmuring good boy and so good and that's it, baby, that's it, that's my good boy. Rain is gasping and shaking and clutching at him and saying Dew's name over and over against his throat.

It pulls Dew with him. He couldn't stop it if he tried.

He buries himself deep and comes with his face pressed into Rain's hair, hips stuttering, the long low sound of it punched out of him. Rain holds him through it — arms around his back, legs still locked at the ankles, mouth pressed to Dew's temple.

For a long time neither of them moves.

Dew is breathing into Rain's hair. Rain is breathing into Dew's. The mess between them is thorough and Dew doesn't care and apparently neither does Rain because Rain's hand has come up to the back of Dew's neck and is just stroking, slow, fingers in the short hair at his nape.

"You okay?" Rain whispers, after a while.

Dew laughs. It comes out wet.

"Am I okay?"

"Yeah."

"Sweetheart."

"Are you?"

"Yes. Yes, baby, I'm — fuck, I'm —"

"Good."

Rain kisses his temple. His legs uncurl from around Dew's waist but stay tangled with Dew's, calf to calf, ankle to ankle, and Dew shifts his weight just enough to roll them slightly to the side so he isn't crushing him, his cock still inside, still half-hard, neither of them in any hurry to separate.

"Dew?"

"Yeah."

"That was —"

"Yeah."

"I haven't — in this body — I haven't —"

"I know, baby."

"Not like that."

"I know."

Rain's voice is very small.

"Such a good boy," Dew murmurs again, into his hair. Just to say it. Just because Rain made a sound when he said it before and Dew wants to put that sound in him again, gentle, no urgency, just a small confirmation. "My good boy."

Rain shivers against him.

"You can't just say that —"

"I'm gonna keep saying it."

"Dew."

"I'm gonna say it every day."

"I'm gonna die —"

"No you're not."

Dew slips out of him slow, careful, and Rain makes an unhappy sound at the loss that Dew kisses out of his mouth, and then Dew kisses him on the corner of the jaw and starts to roll away.

Rain makes another sound.

It's a small sound. Barely anything. It's the kind of sound Rain would deny making if Dew brought it up at breakfast tomorrow — a thin little hum of protest, half-formed, the back-of-the-throat thing you do when something warm leaves you and you're too tired to use real words about it.

Dew stops moving and looks down at Rain.

His eyes are closed. His mouth is open a little. There is a small frown of complaint between his eyebrows that he probably doesn't know he's making, and one of his hands is reaching, vague and uncoordinated, in the direction Dew is moving.

Dew lets himself, for one long second, just look again.

Rain is wrecked.

Hair everywhere. Mouth pink. The bite at his femoral has closed but the skin around it is still flushed dusky-blue. He is bare and bitten and fucked-out and he is making a small unconscious sound because Dew is six inches further away than he was four seconds ago, and Dew thinks that maybe, maybe, those human movies were on to something.

I have crossed oceans of time to find you.

"I'm coming back," he says, soft. "Baby. I'm coming right back. I just need to get something. Thirty seconds."

"Mm."

"Thirty seconds, sweetheart, I promise."

"Hurry," Rain mumbles, into the pillow.

"Promise."

Dew's quick. He's been planning this since Monday — has had the small private list assembling itself in the back of his head for three days, item by item, in between the white-knuckling and the gentleman-ing and the chewing through the inside of his own mouth — and now he gets to actually do it, and there is a particular satisfaction to that which Dew does not have the bandwidth to examine right now.

The en-suite first. Warm cloth, wrung out, not too wet.

He looks at himself in the mirror while he does it.

Mouth still pink at the corners, eyes a little wild, the smug evidence of the last hour written all over his face — and he allows himself one private second of I get to do this. I get to be the one who does this for him. Then he kills the light and goes.

The mini-fridge in the corner of his room next — the one he installed last spring under the loose pretext of needing to keep blood bags cold, which is true, it's just not the only thing he keeps in there.

He gets a bottle of water (the fancy glass kind, Rain pretends not to care about brands but he absolutely does), and the small tupperware (the dark chocolate-covered almonds with the sea salt, which Rain eats by the handful when he's hurting and which Dew bought on Tuesday from the place across town that does them right), and, from the bottom drawer of the dresser, which Rain doesn't know about, a fresh pair of the soft cotton boxer-briefs Rain wears on his period, the gray ones with the wide waistband, plus a clean pad already folded inside them.

He gets the t-shirt last — his own, the soft gray one, the one Rain has stolen before. Tucks it under his arm with everything else.

Twenty-eight seconds.

Rain hasn't moved.

"Hey," Dew says, climbing back onto the bed. "Hey. I'm back."

Rain makes the small sound again, but happier this time — the back-of-the-throat hum reversed. His hand finds Dew's hip without his eyes opening and curls into Dew's waistband and stays there.

Dew sets everything on the nightstand. Settles in next to him.

"Look at me, baby. Look. I brought you some stuff."

Rain cracks one eye open.

Closes it again.

"Mmhg."

"No, c'mon, look — water first. Sit up just a little."

"M'tired."

"I know, sweetheart. Two sips. C'mon."

He gets an arm under Rain's shoulders and props him up against his own chest. Rain goes pliant against him without protest, head heavy on Dew's collarbone.

Dew unscrews the water bottle one-handed and holds it to Rain's mouth. Rain takes two slow sips and then a third, and Dew watches his throat work and feels — absurdly, embarrassingly — like he might cry again.

"Good?"

"Mhm."

"Okay. Lie back down. I'm gonna clean you up, okay? Warm cloth. Then I have a surprise for you."

"What surprise."

"You'll see."

"Tell me the surprise."

"No."

"Dew."

"Lie back, sweetheart."

Rain lies back with a quiet huff.

Dew gets the warm cloth and works between Rain's thighs slow and careful, the way you wash something precious, the way you wash something you're grateful to be allowed to touch. Rain's eyes are closed again. His hand finds Dew's wrist while Dew works and stays there, loose, fingers curled around the bone.

"There," Dew murmurs, when he's done. "Almost. Hang on."

He gets up just enough to grab the boxer-briefs from the nightstand. Sits back down. Rain cracks both eyes open this time.

"What's that?"

"Surprise."

"Dew, what's —"

"They're yours."

"Those are — those are mine."

"Yes."

"Those are my period underwear."

"Yes."

"Why do you have my period underwear."

"Because I bought you some. Last cycle. They're in the bottom drawer. There's three pairs."

Rain stares at him.

"Why," Rain says.

"Because." Dew is suddenly, mortifyingly, a little shy. He looks down at the boxer-briefs in his hand. "Because I noticed you didn't have any in here last time. And I didn't — I wanted you to. I wanted you to not have to ask. I wanted you to be able to just — be here. Whenever. I —"

He stops. He has a pad already folded inside them and he is suddenly intensely aware that this is also a thing Rain is going to notice in about four seconds.

Rain notices in two.

"There's a pad —"

"Yes."

"You bought me pads —"

"Yes."

"Dew."

"I got the brand you use. I checked your bathroom."

"You checked my bathroom —"

"Once! I checked your bathroom once. Like a normal person. Like a person who loves you. I wasn't going to —"

"Come here," Rain says.

His voice has gone wet again.

Dew sets the briefs down and crawls up the bed and Rain pulls him close and kisses him. Slow, this time, no urgency. Just mouth on mouth, the salt of new tears on Rain's face going into the corner of Dew's mouth and Dew letting it until Rain pulls back just enough to put his forehead against Dew's and breathe.

"You're insane," Rain whispers.

"Yeah."

"You're actually fucking insane."

"Yeah, baby."

"I love you so much I can't stand it."

"I know."

"I don't deserve — don't. Don't say it. I know what you're gonna say. I know."

"Okay."

Rain breathes against him for another second. Then he pulls back and wipes his face with the heel of his hand, businesslike, and says — voice still wet but going for normal — "okay. Underwear. Pad. Hand 'em over, vampire."

"Of course."

Dew helps him into them like it's the easiest thing in the world. The boxer-briefs go on; the pad is already where it needs to be; the t-shirt goes over Rain's head and Rain makes a small contented sound when it settles around him because it smells like Dew.

Then he sees the almonds.

"Are those —"

"Chocolate almonds. The good ones. From the place in town."

"You went all the way into town —"

"On Tuesday. While you were ducking me."

"Dew."

"Eat one."

Rain puts one in his mouth and chews slowly. His eyes close. His face does the thing it does when he eats something he loves, the half-second of pure undisguised pleasure that he never lets anyone see in public.

"These are the right ones," he says.

"Yeah."

"How did you —"

"I pay attention."

Rain doesn't say anything for a second. He eats another almond. Then he looks at Dew with his eyes wet again and says, very small: "you really have been planning this."

"Since Monday."

"Since Monday."

"I told you, sweetheart. I told you I've been losing my mind."

"I thought you meant — I thought you meant the sex part."

"That too."

"Dew."

"Both. Sex and snacks. I'm a full-service vampire."

Rain laughs. It's a real laugh this time — small still, but real, the kind that means the tears aren't going to keep coming. He shakes his head, eats another almond.

He shifts against Dew until he's tucked back into the curve of Dew's arm and his head is on Dew's chest. Dew pulls the duvet up over both of them and settles in, hand splayed warm over his stomach where the cramps live. Rain makes a small contented sound and presses closer into him.

"Okay," he says, around the almond.

"Okay."

"I'm keeping you."

"Yeah, baby."

"Just so we're clear. I'm keeping you. You don't get to — you can't just — you can't do shit like this and then think I'm gonna —"

"I know."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Rain falls quiet again. Dew can feel him breathing. Can feel the slow steady thump of his pulse under the palm Dew has spread across his stomach. Can feel, somewhere under all of that, the small ongoing miracle of him — the body doing what it does, the blood replenishing, the boy of him warm and tired and finally, finally not hiding.

"I love you," Rain mumbles, drifting into sleep.

Dew stays awake a while longer, just to feel it — the slow tide of Rain breathing, the warmth of him, the scent of him that has stopped being unbearable and has become, instead, the only thing in the room Dew wants to be smelling.

He closes his eyes and presses his mouth to the back of Rain's neck, and lets himself, finally, rest.

Even though he doesn't need it.