#deaconfreeman

“Look someone told me you’re good at making shit and I need you to make me something.” Wells usually tried to avoid the supernatural in the city but tonight he had actually went to seek out a witch, Deacon to be exact. The young doctor had been trying to find someone to help him with this for a while and he was almost running out of time. He had been suppressing his wolf wide with a mixture of drugs and magic for over years but his currently connection in the city had left and he was running scarily low on his supplies. He had to get them before his next heat or he would be a mess, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone through a full heat and he really didn’t want to experience that.

“I’ll pay whatever it takes, I just need you to make wolf suppressants. Good ones. And fast.” The look on his face was deadly serious. Wells hated his wolf side so much that when he was young her had tried to kill it with wolfsbane and vervain, to no avail. Honestly, he was a little desperate right now and if Deacon paid close enough attention he would be able to see that in the kids blue eyes. 

Five Kisses From Me | Ask Meme

Kem cracked a smile while butterflies engorged themselves in his stomach. Wings flapped around and fluttered in such a way he was almost convinced insects were, in fact, in him. But it was just a metaphor in place of emotions, one suited to comprehend his physical response to Deacon and the witch’s behavior. 

Talk about a smooth talker.

The demon shifted his weight onto his right foot, hand tucked in the pocket of his ash slacks while he gestured loosely to himself, “One to spare? I believe I may,” call him playful, feeding off the witch’s energy in a game of tit-for-tat. The moment it took a heated twist, however, Kemuel’s momentary bravado would fizzle out like a firework in the rain. 

Kemuel stoked the fires of his heart, easing his own nerves in the short span it took for him to close in on Deacon. With the shorter up close, Kemuel better understood where it’d be appropriate to kiss the bouncer. Often he went for the cheek in times of uncertainty, but with Deacon and his friendly nature? He needed to settle elsewhere. Two seconds trotted along until he found his mark: Deacon’s chin.

He tilted Deacon’s chin up, propping it with the curve of his index, while other fingers curled below the stubbled flesh. Brown eyes lowered until they were obscured by his thick lashes, lips softening the moment they laid on Deacon’s chin. So close to the man’s lips, yet so far all the same. He lingered there, getting a feel for the human’s warmth, only to withdraw with his fingers still cupping the curve of Deacon’s chin. “You never did say where, but a kiss is a kiss.”