#odd couples

One day, basking in the afterglow, Lasko tucks his head under Vincent’s chin and says, “Um.”

Vincent runs his fingers through Lasko’s hair and asks, “What is it, Precious?”

“N-next time...” Lasko swallows, and Vincent feels him tense. “I m-mean, if there--if there is a next time, obviously there doesn’t have to be a next time but if there is--if you want t-there to be a next time--c-could I maybe...while you bite me, I mean, could I maybe, um...f-f-fuck you?”

Vincent sits up, pulling Lasko with him and taking Lasko’s face in his hands. Lasko meets his eyes, that mix of hope and doubt making Vincent’s heart ache.

“There will be as many next times as you want, my love,“ Vincent promises, stealing a quick kiss that makes Lasko laugh. “And of course you can fuck me. I’m glad that you asked.” His tone is light and playful, but Lasko blushes deeply, seemingly embarrassed by his own boldness.

They spend the rest of the day in bed, talking and snuggling, and make loose plans for next time.

~~~

Lasko is taller but he slouches and ducks his head, especially when he’s talking to someone--especially when he’s talking to Vincent--unconsciously presenting himself as small, and nonthreatening, and submissive.

So when he shows up to Vincent’s house for their date--where they both know but hadn’t explicitly stated that drinks and television would lead to biting and sex--Vincent expects his sweet, pretty, submissive boyfriend to slouch and duck his head, smile nervous but eager. The man on his doorstep wears a nervous but eager smile, but his back and shoulders are straight, and there’s something excitingly unfamiliar in his energy.

“Hi,” he says softly, the hand not occupied by wine raised in greeting.

“Hi,” Vincent echoes, pulling him through the doorway and into a kiss.

They kiss all the way to the couch, and if Lasko’s grip on him is a little tighter than usual, Vincent doesn’t mind. They flop onto the couch, where Vincent throws his legs over Lasko’s lap and gently takes the bottle from him to examine it.

“Ooh, this is fancy.”

“Is it? I-I really don’t know anything about wine,” Lasko admits. Vincent raises his eyebrows and grins.

“You just bought it because the label is pretty, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Lasko smiles back, and Vincent is absolutely smitten.

They get through one-and-a-half episodes of the latest show before Vincent becomes aware of Lasko’s hand, which had started somewhere around his ankle and made its wandering way up to his thigh. The touches had gone from absent to interested, and when he glances over he’s thrilled to find Lasko watching him intently.

He bites his lip--Lasko’s eyes follow the movement, grip on his thigh tightening--and turns the television off.

“Shall we take this to the bedroom?”

“Yes,” Lasko breathes.

Damien had only been in Dahlia for a semester but he’d finished finals and let a classmate talk him into going to a club in the empowered district. It wasn’t a good idea. He’d known it wasn’t a good idea but he’d done it anyway, like Dahlia would somehow be different than his own hometown had been.

For a minute it had been perfect. He’d been just another random empowered person in a throng of others all a little tipsy and smothered by the volume of the music, bouncing and dancing. He locked eyes with this guy, this beautiful guy with a sweet smile—the kind that made him feel like being a nicer person too. It looked so easy, like this guy could find something to smile about anywhere and anytime. Damien actually held his breath when the guy moved closer. He was a little taller than Damien but leaner, a tanktop hanging on him, flashing the sides of his chest in the flaring-colored lights. All muscle but no bulk. Maybe at a glance they would look close in size and height, close but not quite.

The stranger had tucked that smile into one side of his mouth, closer now, and for a second Damien thought the guy would reach out and grab him, maybe pull him in and grind on him or lean into his ear and suggest they leave. Instead, he held out his hand, subtly like they had known each other for years rather than not at all and he was offering to hold hands in this stifling crowd. Damien swallowed, still bouncing with the music in his heels. He slid his hand into his and the stranger tugged, pulling him forward and into an easy spin. It was another surprise. He was strong—way stronger than he should be.

They danced, hands gliding over arms, shoulders, the sides of necks, hips bumping. All the while Damien’s mind was running a mile a minute, combatting the sensory explosion of all this contact with a complete stranger, and the puzzle of who the hell he was dancing with. Not a vamp. No fangs. No horns either, so probably not a daemon. That smile flashed again, a glint in the man’s eyes telling him he knew Damien was trying to figure him out.

“Wolf?” he mouthed the question.

The smile grew. The guy leaned in, not that there was a lot of space between them at that point. His mouth brushed the skin of Damien’s neck before he tipped his head and spoke close to his ear. “Asher.”

Damien shivered, holding on to Asher’s shoulders and replying. “Damien.”

They continued to dance and Damien wondered if he should tell him that he was a fire elemental in return. Did it matter to wolves? It mattered to elementals…

Asher was stronger than him, definitely, it was in the easy way he moved and sometimes supported Damien’s weight or buffered other bodies away from them with ease. But he didn’t really lead, leaving that to Damien, which he liked. He liked being in control. He was the one that finally hooked a hand around the back of Asher’s neck and pulled his face close, kissing him. He felt Asher groan—felt it reverberate through him and wondered how loud it had to be to make that happen.

Still kissing, Asher’s hand slid up his side, under his shirt, pressing palm to skin. A vague stab of panic lit Damien’s heart. His skin had to be heating up. He kept the heat inside, turned inward and tightly contained because they were in public, but it would still be in his skin—maybe even radiating off him with how riled up he was getting. But Asher didn’t pull away, didn’t even discretely remove his hand, he clutched at Damien’s side, drawing his body closer while they kissed.

There was no analogy for what happened next because it was the analogy. A bucket of ice water sloshed over Damien, colder because of his own temperature and skin, making his skin hurt like it was being split open and his head throb hard enough to bring him to his knees.

The crowd around them had jerked back, the puddle of water and fast melting icecubes spreading out. Damien shook, first against physical pain and then against the shock and embarrassment. He pushed wet hair from his face and looked up at one of his classmates, not one he got along well with. They snickered down at him, holding a now empty bucket. “You were making the whole fucking club hot!”

Laughter rippled out around them.

Damien cringed, glancing only quickly at Asher. He was wet too, his shirt sticking to him. Damien looked away before he could see his face. He didn’t want to see whatever was there—disgust or embarrassment or pity. It didn’t matter.

His classmate lurched forward like they meant to put that fucking bucket on his head now too but before he could even lift an arm to deflect them, Asher was there. Faster than most could see. One shove and the classmate was off their feet and falling backward into their friends, all of them tumbling to the floor. The music had stopped. “You narrow-minded asshole,” the wolf sneered in disgust. “This shit is exactly why we have our own clubs,” he added in a mutter of annoyance, turning his back on the offenders.

He crouched in front of Damien, pushing wet hair out of his face, fingering it back into some sort of order and getting a look at him in the process. He could hear him now that the club was just voices, still loud but not deafening. “Are you okay?” Asher asked, feeling his face and the sides of his neck like he was checking his temperature.

Damien stared back at him for a second, too surprised to talk.

The music started up again but people were giving them and the puddle space. Asher held on to him, leaning closer to talk over the music now. “Can you walk?” He smiled, small but still playful, even after everything. “I can carry you if—”

That jarred Damien from his shock, head shaking as he scrambled to get to his feet.

“Wow. Okay,” Asher said, rising with him and keeping hold of his arms to steady him. When he was on his feet, Asher curled an arm over his shoulders and walked him toward the exit, easily pushing people out of their way with seemingly gentle nudges.

Damien walked faster when he could see the exit, everything catching up to him. He needed air. Needed to get outside before the anger caught up to him and broke free from the shock and started heating up around him. Again.

-

Asher steered Damien out of the club, nodding thanks to the bouncer that held the door. He knew the guy from other gigs.

Damien was still shaking but at least he was hot again. His face and neck had been alarmingly cool after that asshole threw a bucket of ice water on him. It had been cold enough to make Asher’s chest burn where he got splashed, he could only imagine how bad it felt over the fire elemental’s head. And he had been so warm right before, thrumming with heat under his skin. Asher liked that heat.

“L-Let go,” Damien said, voice gravely.

Asher did but hovered close by, ready to grab him again if it looked like his legs were giving out. He didn’t want to overstep—definitely didn’t want to touch when it wasn’t welcome—but he also didn’t want to see this guy fall. When he did let go, the air rippled heat around Damien, like he’d been holding it in. Maybe he had. “Can I do anything to help—”

“No. Just. It’s fine, you can go back,” Damien bit out his words, not looking at him. He swallowed hard and straightened, shuffled away from the club. “I’m going home. Sorry about your shirt,” he mumbled, starting away. He looked drunk but he wasn’t. Asher knew drunk, and he didn’t flirt with drunk, only tipsy.

Asher stared for a second, surprised that this guy thought he gave a shit about his shirt being wet or that he’d be interested in going back inside that fucking club. He followed, catching up easily. The air was warmer around Damien, it was nice. “Did you know that jerk?”

Damien looked surprise, glancing back at the club and then at Asher again before seeming to accept that he was going to walk with him. “Yeah. It’s just someone from school.”

Asher nodded slowly. “DAMN.”

Damien nodded too.

“Are you feeling better? You looked like you were going to be sick right after…”

Damien nodded again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Asher wasn’t sure he believed him. “Can I walk you home? You seem…”

“I’m fine,” Damien snapped but it didn’t have much bite behind it and though Asher didn’t know this guy much at all, he definitely thought there should be more bite to him.

Asher was about to try again just when they were cutting across one of the more active streets, venders along the sides and music from somewhere blocks away. “Wait!” he said, suddenly thinking of something.

Damien jerked to a stop and winced, touching his head like it was hurting him. Maybe it was. He looked back at Asher but only briefly at his face. He winced again and this time Asher suspected it wasn’t about any physical pain. “What?”

“Just, give me five minutes. You don’t want me following you home, I can understand that, but see it from my side—I can’t just let you stagger off into the city.”

“Why not?”

“Something bad could happen.”

Damien turned toward him, eyebrows bunching. “Bad shit already happened and it’s not like I’m going to get mugged or something. I’m a fire.”

Asher bit back a smile at how the elemental called themself fire. Maybe that was just how elementals said it—but it seemed overly apt for this particular man. But then thinking about Damien ambling home alone in Dahlia made it easy not to smile. “You’re new, right? First semester?”

Damien scowled and looked like he might turn and start stomping away again. Asher reached out, first to gesture for him to wait and then just offering his hand. “Five minutes. You don’t even have to trust me. We won’t leave the street or go anywhere alone.”

Damien looked at his hand like it might be a trick. Considering how those jerks in the club had treated him, maybe he had reason to suspect. But he swallowed whatever doubt was crowding behind his teeth and put his hand into Asher’s. Asher smiled, took it gently, and led him down the active road of venders and bars.

Damien’s pace was still staggered and slow, his other hand coming up to his forehead when he cringed against the bright lights and sounds. He tried to stop and pull back, to retreat from the sounds at one point but Asher hooked an arm around his back and tugged him into his side. “It’s going to help. Just hang on.” He scanned the vendors as he went. They had to be here. They were always here...

And then he spotted the little booth, a woman in a suit and an assortment of high backed plush chairs on the sidewalk. He had to click his teeth to keep from shouting her name in excitement. Damien probably wouldn’t appreciate shouting right now. He waved to get her attention even before he reached her, pivoting Damien and depositing him in a chair. The healer usually handled hang overs and booboos caused from being drunk and stupid. She frowned hard at Damien and then at Asher. “You do this to him?”

“No,” Asher scoffed, crouching next to Damien’s chair.

“Who the fuck is—” Damien started.

“Healer,” Asher explained just as she reached out and touched Damien’s forehead. He tried to brush her away and she tsked and swatted his hand down. Asher caught the fallen hand, holding it while the healer seemed to be deciding about the state of the fire elemental. She clucked her tongue and a wash of magic shuddered out across him, from her fingertips still at his forehead.

Damien’s hand spasmed in Asher’s hold and then he relaxed, eyes opening fully for the first time since the water hit him and his shoulders easing back. He blinked and sighed relief, nodding at the healer. “Thanks.”

Asher smiled and stood up, fishing cash from his back pocket and passing it along. His pack had to use a healer just about every time they went out to party. Someone was always falling off of something. It wasn’t a good pack party if something or someone didn’t get broken.

Damien got to his feet on his own, pushing his hair back from his face and taking a deep breath, like he had just woken up. The healer was already on to another client, this one with a bloody nose. So Damien turned to Asher, seeming surprised again to see him still there. “Thanks. I mean it. That…I feel better.”

Asher grinned and nodded. “Works great for hangovers too.” He chanced reaching out and brushing fingertips against Damien’s temple, back to his hairline like he was brushing away a loose strand.

Damien’s skin warmed under his touch, like a ripple in the wake of his fingers. “It’s not that I didn’t want you to follow me home,” he said suddenly and then rolled his eyes at himself and how that sounded. “I mean, you said earlier that I didn’t want you following me home and that I didn’t need to trust you, and that’s not what I was thinking. I didn’t think you were going to take advantage or anything.”

Asher let his hand fall from Damien’s temple, skimming jaw on his way down. It was a relief to know he hadn’t thought that, but at the same time Asher thought he should have. He was new to the city and he definitely didn’t know Asher well enough to trust him when he was fucked up like that.

“I just don’t want the pity, okay?” Damien went on, not making eye contact anymore. His jaw ticked. There was the bite Asher was expecting. So much attitude in even just a handful of words. “You helped me out and I really appreciate that, especially after you got—”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Asher cut in because he didn’t like where that was going.

Damien looked up then, surprised. His jaw ticked again but before he could argue Asher went on.

“Some dick threw a bucket of water on you. That isn’t your fault. We were having a good time.” He brushed the back of his knuckles to Damien’s, seeking contact but not grabbing. “I knew you were a fire elemental. I’m not an idiot. And there’s nothing wrong with being a fire.” He smiled a little, he liked calling this guy fire.

Damien hadn’t looked away from him the whole time he spoke, seeming to be reading whether or not he was lying. He swallowed hard and finally looked away, but turned his hand into Asher’s so they could hold on to each other. “We were having fun,” he agreed.

Asher beamed. “If you still want to go home, I can walk you, at least to the subway. But if you still want to hang out there’s a bar near here. It’s a total dive, owned by wolves, and it’s a rough crowd but I think you’ll fit in fine and if you hate it we can bail.”

Damien tried not to smile, pressing it into the side of his mouth. Asher wanted to kiss that corner and tease out that grin. Damien glanced around at the busy street and finally nodded. “Fine.”