6 – incursion (part 1)

“Find anything interesting this time?” Cole asks at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Interesting. Not sure there was anything useful, though. Especially not in light of the more pressing issue.”

Demons. More of them each week, and it had already been odd when there were a handful in as many months that caused enough of a fuss to get noticed. The problem was that any time Cole got close enough to one to try to start asking questions, the demon in question would go absolutely off the rails and come after him.

Each time, they died – at least inasmuch as demons could be killed – with the same hissed question on their tongues.

Where,” Bast had said, after Cole had noticed the trend and asked. “That’s it? None of them said anything else?”

Cole had just shaken his head no. Then Bast had frowned and he liked that even less on an entirely selfish level so he’d kissed him as a distraction and, well- needs must. The next morning he’d left again on another lead.

That had been their song and dance for a few months now: Cole would go hunting, it would end poorly, he would come back frustrated to see what Bast had found, and Bast would put it aside and drag Cole to bed before he’d actually tell him anything.

Except for this time. This time has been different. Cole had arrived earlier that evening and something had seemed… off. Maybe it’s just that he’s tired. That Bast didn’t jump him almost immediately. Instead, he’d smiled up at Cole and said he’d be done in a bit before turning his attention back to the ancient book in his lap.

Which that was… fine. Really. Truth be told, he sort of enjoyed sitting in the shadows, watching the little shifts of Bast’s expression as he read whatever it was, but eventually he had to move. So he went out. Wandered through the trees for a bit until he ended up here, where he’d found a nice, moss-covered rock and sat down to stare at the sky.

“Hi,” Bast says, his silhouette all inky blackness against the stars above. All except for his eyes, which made their own glowing constellations.

“Noticed I’m here now, have you?” He tugs Bast further into the space between his knees and catches his tail in one hand. Wraps it around his fist and presses a kiss to the warm, soft skin of it. Bast’s eyes close and his breathing catches.

“I didn’t not- I was just… busy.”

Cole hums a vague acknowledgment. Part of him wants to say something exceptionally bitchy, but that requires acknowledging that he’s at all affected by it. That he cares or something, and he doesn’t.

“I don’t think I was the first one to steal that book,” Bast says quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not-” he huffs a breath and shoves a hand into his hair, pushing it back from his face. “It isn’t in any of the demon tongues. I thought it was, at first. I mean, I can read it, after all, but um- it isn’t.”

“What is it?”

He can hear the movement of Bast’s throat when he swallows. “Well, at first I thought it was, I don’t know, some mix of Aramaic and one of the less common demon dialects? The work of another hybrid, maybe? But I don’t think that’s it. Cole I think it might be- I think he might’ve broken in and taken it from them. And it’s-” Bast shivers and swallows again, his head tipping back.

There’s something in what Bast isn’t saying that sets Cole on edge. He can put two and two together – he’s never seen anything in a celestial language, at least not that he’s aware, but he’d be willing to bet that this is. At which point he can only imagine what’s going through Bast’s head right now. That he’s able to read it alone is extraordinary, much less whatever it might say-

“I’m not the first. At least not exactly,” Bast whispers. “I haven’t made it that far yet- there’s so much there. The original text, and then the notes. Those are his. I know his handwriting. But it seems like they were um, keeping tabs. There are some bits I can’t quite make sense of. It feels like I’m missing context, or something. Like this isn’t the whole thing. And I just-” his voice breaks once. Again.

Like he’s on the verge of shattering, for the first time since Cole has met him.

He’s cracked, sure, once Cole made him. But even then, what he’d found beneath the surface was nothing like this. That was all sparks of fury and molten danger, whereas this is something fragile. Something Cole has no business being anywhere near, much less the knowledge to care for.

“When’s the last time you drank something?”

Bast sniffs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Made tea earlier.”

“Ate something?”

This gets a shrug. “Not hungry.”

Cole sighs and stands, the shift putting them chest to chest and more or less eye to eye. He’s just slightly taller, horns aside; normally it’s not even noteworthy, but somehow it’s a difference that he feels now. “Come on. Let’s get you in bed, then.”

Instead of moving anywhere in that direction, though, Bast’s forehead just drops to his shoulder. That’s what really does him in. He wraps his arms around Bast’s waist, pulling him close, and kisses the tip of a horn.

Bast exhales a slow breath, and the world wrenches around them. The light from the fireplace is uncomfortably bright after so long outside in the darkness, but the warmth is a welcome addition to the familiar heat of Bast’s body.

“One way to do it, I suppose.”

“Didn’t feel like walking.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? Do you want me to go?”

The same horn bumps against Cole’s jaw as Bast shakes his head.

“Not exactly a clear answer, love.”

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” Bast asks.

“Tonight? Nowhere. And if there is, it can wait, if-”

“Then no, to both questions,” he interrupts before Cole has to address… this.

Cole’s chest tightens just slightly at the admission and nods. He presses his lips to the top of Bast’s head and starts to maneuver them both toward the bedroom. It’s fine. He could stay tonight – stay here, with Bast, just to sleep – and it would be ok. He’d done weirder things.

They reach the bedroom, though, and instead of letting Cole go, Bast’s fingers tighten in his shirt. His teeth close on Cole’s shoulder – not hard enough to do any real damage, but certainly enough to be felt.

“Bast,” he says quietly.

The sound Bast makes is half whine, half sob. All plea.

He wants to protest. That’s probably the proper thing to do. The morally correct option. But at the same time, he gets it. Understands the need for a distraction. For something tangible, even if it’s not real.

“Ok,” Cole says, pushing Bast’s shirt up to splay his fingers across his lower spine.

It makes Bast shiver and press even closer, and then his lips are on Cole’s throat, like embers dragged across his skin. He rucks Bast’s shirt up further, intending to pull it off, but of course it’s not that simple.

“Why can’t you wear a t-shirt like a normal person? Sweetheart, it’s the twenty-first century,” Cole growls, moving his other hand to fight with Bast’s buttons.

Bast scoffs. “Over my dead body.”

“Vain little shit,” he mutters. Not fondly, but even he can’t ignore that he doesn’t sound upset. He fits his mouth to Bast’s to smother the feeling. To redirect it to something he knows how to handle.

While he works on getting them out of their clothes, Bast turns them and backs Cole up to the edge of the bed. He goes down without protest, shoving his jeans, underwear, and boots all the rest of the way off at once.

And gods, if he thought Bast’s mouth was hot on his throat, it’s nothing compared to now. He hadn’t been lying, when he’d said he was a quick learner. The problem – that isn’t really much of a problem at all – is that he’s still very intent on being an absolute menace with his newfound skills.

Tonight is no exception, even with the tense edge to him. He takes Cole apart with all the desperation of a drowning man and Cole is helpless to do anything but clench one fist around a horn and the other in the sheets and try to remember to breathe.

After the second – or maybe it’s the third – time he comes, Bast sits up and wipes his mouth. Cole has to take a good few slow, measured breaths before he can say, “Well that was…”

He can just make out the sharp flash of white fangs as Bast smiles before he ducks to press a kiss just below Cole’s belly button.

“C’mere,” Cole mumbles, leaning up just far enough to catch Bast’s wrist and pull him down. The kiss is lazy, punctuated by the rhythmless shifts of Bast’s hips. “What do you want?” he asks. Not what do you need – that’s too… everything. Cole reaches down to wrap his fingers loosely around Bast’s cock, as if to further clarify the intent of his question.

Bast shivers and thrusts into his fist. His tail slithers over Cole’s legs and then it’s gone, followed by the sound of the contents of Bast’s bedside table being knocked over.

He breathes a laugh, already knowing where that search leads, because for all that Bast’s interests have proven quite flexible, there’s also no question in Cole’s mind as to where his preferences lie.

“No?” Bast asks, going still.

Rolling onto his side, Cole kisses him. Makes it filthy and pointed – an answer all on its own. Then he says, “You could at least magic me a fucking prostate or something, is all I’m saying.”

He means it as a joke, but Bast says, “Really? I mean I thought you didn’t want me to- after the first time-”

“I don’t know that that’s quite the best use of your abilities, love.” The thought makes him groan, though, as does the feeling of Bast’s teeth on his neck.

“What, and correcting werewolf underbites is?” His tongue laps over a tendon in Cole’s throat. “Your call, though.”

Fuck, Cole thinks. Or maybe says aloud, his entire body pressing closer to Bast’s without him even really meaning to.

“That isn’t exactly an answer, and given how you responded last time I’d like something a little more conclusive.”

“Two questions,” Cole says, his voice rough.

“Mhmm,” Bast practically purrs, his mouth still making a leisurely circuit of Cole’s throat.

“One, how are you still using words like fucking conclusive? And more importantly, what’s the catch?”

Bast sighs and pulls back to look at him, his eyes the only real points of light in the room. “You’re absurd. Fine, if I set the price tag at sexual favors, will you be happy?”

“That seems a little low, darling,” he whispers, a part of him silently daring Bast to ask for something else – for something more – and the other part terrified of what he might do, say, agree to if he did.

“Maybe I’m just selfless like that.” Bast sniffs and bites his collarbone, then shifts lower again to alternate lips and teeth across Cole’s chest, almost like he’s trying to illustrate the quality of his previous work. Or maybe just to prove a point.

The problem is that Cole can’t think when he does that, and Bast has to know as much. His tongue teases one nipple, then the other, making Cole’s back arch like a line of pure need between his chest and the base of his spine has been pulled taut. It’s something his feelings had always been complicated on before, but now-

Now it just reduces him to a mindless mess.

He exhales shakily and stretches out on the mattress in both consent and plea for Bast to do what he will. Pointedly pushes the thought of ruin from his mind. “Ok,” he says, little more than an exhale. Then, louder, “Ok, do it.”

Bast’s smile spreads in the space between his ribs and is accompanied by the pop of the cap of the bottle of lube that had mysteriously appeared one day. It isn’t even cold when it first touches his skin, already warmed by Bast’s heat. There’s only the familiar not-quite-discomfort as his body adjusts to the stretch. It isn’t just that, though – not just the normal preparation. It’s almost like Bast is measuring. Planning.

That is exactly what he’s doing, Cole realizes in that same moment. He’s plotting exactly where, since that’s something he can do. His fingers pause for a moment, circling the same spot inside of him. “Relax for me,” Bast murmurs against his skin.

Not magic, but it might as well be with how effective it is. And then he feels it. The quiet rush that he can still sense, if he reaches for it, but hasn’t been able to touch in over a thousand years. All too quickly, Bast pulls his fingers free, his weight dropping fully onto Cole.

Cole threads his fingers into Bast’s hair. “Alright, sweetheart?”

He nods, his forehead digging into Cole’s stomach. “Creating is always just… a bit more than getting rid of something. I tell you after that day with you and that tooth fairy I was out for almost twenty-four hours? Woke up in- well. It was a bad time.”

“Hmm, any idea why?”

“Something something abomination, theft of magic, unfit to use it- whatever.”


Shrugging, Bast pushes up onto his elbows and looks at Cole. “More or less. I mean it’s probably a little more complicated, but as best as I can tell, I can’t quite fully tap any particular source the way I need to, but I’m also not beholden to the same rules. Pisses an awful lot of people off.”

“You sound devastated about that.”

Bast laughs and kisses his thigh. “Inconsolable. Turn over?”

He can’t fight his own smile; he’d much rather have Bast like this, especially if he can be the cause. “Coping mechanism or quick recovery?” he asks, the question dissolving into a gasp as Bast’s tongue fucks into him without any preamble or warning.

“Some of us are capable of feeling more than one thing at a time,” Bast says, after enough time has passed that Cole has forgotten that he even asked anything.

There isn’t enough time for him to come up with a reply, either. The pop of the lid and the feeling of Bast’s fingers teasing into him again effectively push everything else from his mind. No more than a tease, though, and really more a testing of give before Bast lines himself up.

That’s one difference of physiology that Cole will admit he’s grown quite fond of – the gradual taper, as opposed to the start being the worst. And he always starts slowly, almost like he’s savoring it, but Cole knows the truth. Had called him on it quickly enough, and since then he hasn’t made any attempt to hide it.

“Never had much use for- restraint,” he’d panted, still hard and halfway inside of Cole. “If I didn’t make it fast I was on my own, at which point, well, why bother.”

“I see,” Cole had said. It was something he could understand well enough, although it always hit differently, coming from someone else.

“Do you want me to stop?” He’d had his face pressed into the back of Cole’s neck where Cole couldn’t see him, but he didn’t need to to feel the heat of his face or hear the frantic beat of his pulse, so much like a hummingbird’s wings. So desperately alive.

“Don’t you dare,” Cole had growled – or something like it. He can’t quite remember, because Bast had twined their fingers together and pushed in all at once as soon as he’d even gotten it halfway out of his mouth.

It had been a lot, especially that first time. He felt full in a way that was different to anything he’d experienced before.

This time, though- Bast tilts his hips slightly and there’s this… pressure that’s different from before. Bast shifts again and it reverts to the normal, slow slide. He has to be more than halfway in by now, but he seems steady. His breathing is even and his pulse, while fast, doesn’t betray him as on the edge yet.

“Ok?” he asks, the thickest part of him just nudging against Cole’s hole.

Cole lets his head hang between his arms and nods. It’s like he’s caught on the cusp of something. Like an itch he can’t scratch because he can’t pinpoint it.

Rather than pushing the rest of the way in, though, Bast pulls out slightly and pushes back in, angling his hips again. And as before, there’s that strange pressure. It makes the itch worse.

The only thing Cole can compare it to is the feeling he gets when he needs to sink his fangs into something. Not that that feeling is exactly uncommon around Bast, but he’s gotten better at managing it. Other than that first incident, he’s kept himself in check. Given Bast’s questionable makeup, there’s no telling what would happen and he can’t-

Bast withdraws almost entirely, only the narrow tip of his cock still inside. He leans down to kiss Cole’s spine, one arm wrapped around Cole’s chest. Everywhere they touch, he’s hot, and every time after, Cole expects to see some sign of it on his skin like a brand.

A part of him is disappointed when there’s not.

He groans when Bast thrusts back in, still frustratingly slow and shallow. His tail wraps around one of Cole’s thighs, the drag of its flared head tickling slightly. Cole laughs – moans – and twists to find Bast’s mouth.

Another tease, more pressure. It’s not enough. He wants. He wants. He needs-

Fy faen,” he practically shouts when, on the next roll of his hips, Bast pushes all the way in until he’s fully sheathed inside of Cole.

Bast laughs, the sound both intensely inhuman and absolutely wrecked, and presses a wet kiss to Cole’s shoulder.

If Cole thought he was going to burn before, it was nothing compared to this. The devilish bastard hadn’t been planning based on any relevant, normal anatomy expectations. No. He’d deposited a bundle of nerves exactly where his cock was the thickest, so when he bottomed out he’d light Cole up like a fucking Christmas tree.

He can’t breathe. Can’t move without making it worse. Better. More.

“I’m going to go ahead and assume I got it right,” Bast slurs, already sounding fucked out and drunk on it.

He’s not sure who’ll be worse by the end of the night.

Kyss meg i ræva.”

Tá mé cheana féin,” Bast replies, dragging more sloppy kisses across Cole’s shoulders. “First time I’ve made you give up English though.”

“Bast, if you don’t move, I-“

“Ah ah ah,” Bast chides, his voice amused and echoey – like if a star could tease. His teeth dimple Cole’s shoulder and make him shiver, which only worsens the urgency building low in his belly.

He does move, though. It’s more of a grind, but it sends sparks licking up Cole’s spine. It’s not enough; he needs more.

Cole pulls away, then fucks himself back on Bast’s cock. It pulls another moaned laugh from Bast’s throat, but then his hands are on Cole’s hips to hold him still.

“Mm, none of that. I’ll give it to you, but you’re going to be patient.”

It takes a lot of effort to stifle the whine that threatens to claw free. The urge to protest. To tell Bast that it’s not enough, that he needs Bast to fuck him properly so he can-

He gasps, his mind skidding to another shocked halt as the tip of Bast’s tail trails up between his thighs to tease him open from the front. His hips jerk reflexively, seeking contact. Friction.

Another laugh. “Figured out the game now?” Bast asks, sounding pleased with himself.

Cole doesn’t fight back the moan. Instead, he lets his back arch and his shoulders sink toward the bed. Surrenders to whatever Bast has in store for him.

This time, it’s Bast who hisses a curse, his fingers kneading into Cole’s hips and ass. The next time he pulls out, he immediately thrusts back in in a smooth roll that turns Cole’s insides molten.

He feels like he’s melting. Like he’s being taken apart by the twin, teasing sensations. Stripped to his core where there’s just a vast expanse of nothing.

Bast places a final kiss to the join of Cole’s neck and shoulder and then he straightens. The pace he sets then has a steady stream of soft, needy sounds slipping out of Cole’s mouth but he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when it feels this good.

A choked noise from Bast is the only warning he gets before the rhythm falters and he’s filled with liquid heat. Cole would follow him, except the cursed hybrid stills completely so Cole can’t.

He groans, frustrated, and tries to move. Tries to push back on his cock or grind against his tail where it’s curled up against his clit but he can’t.


The bastard laughs, of course. He releases one of Cole’s hips and folds himself over Cole’s back again. His hand leaves a trail of warmth in its wake as he drags it over Cole’s ribs in a caress that’s too soft. Too gentle. Too at odds with the clawing frustration in him.

“Give me a second,” Bast says, no louder than he needs to be with his lips so close to Cole’s ear.

“What happened to your magical refractory period, hm?”

“It’s-” he huffs and shakes his head. His hips still unmoving, Bast starts to fuck Cole with his tail. Even that is unhurried. Like he intends to draw it out as long as possible, especially now that his own needs are no longer so urgent.

Like he’s read Cole’s mind, Bast groans and shoves his way impossibly deeper. He bites down on the join of Cole’s neck and shoulder, the spadelike tip of his tail sliding in and out just far enough that the widest part of it keeps curling to fit inside of him each time.

He loses track of time, after that. Everything else inside of him burns away until there’s nothing but the smell of Bast in his nose, the steady beat of his pulse echoing through Cole’s chest, and the torturous drag of cock and tail alike.

Eventually – it could be minutes, or hours later – Bast picks up his pace again. He stays plastered to Cole’s back, one arm still keeping them pressed tightly together, but there’s a force to his thrust that Cole would have begged for if he thought he could make words.

Again, a fractured little cry breaks free from Bast’s lips, but this time instead of slowing or stopping he fucks Cole through it and pushes him over the edge as well.

Cole sinks fully onto the mattress with Bast’s warm, familiar weight on top of him. He could stay like this indefinitely, still high on the aftershocks and as close as he can remember ever feeling to alive, if not for the growing discomfort of being kept spread open for so long and the need to clean up.

With a soft hum, Bast slips out. The rush of magic follows, eliminating the sticky, wet mess between his thighs. It doesn’t get rid of the smell, though; Cole wonders how long it would linger, if he let it.

“You feel better now?” he mumbles.

“Mm, do you not? But yes. Thank you. It’s… going to be fine.”

Something in the wording strikes Cole as odd, but his brain is already too far gone. He falls asleep caught between the soft give of the mattress and the solid warmth of Bast’s body.


Kiss my ass

I already have

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