Cole goes from asleep to awake in a second. From relaxed to tense to relaxed again – or at least something like it – as he realizes that he’s both somewhere strange and not alone, then remembers.
The hybrid’s tail isn’t curled around his leg anymore, but it is draped lazily over his hip, its owner still sleeping.
He’s different like this. No less beautiful, even strange as he is, but almost younger seeming. Vulnerable. Soft. His freckles look like tiny golden constellations scattered across his cheeks and over the tops of his shoulders, down his chest. Cole follows them with his eyes and smiles, smug, at the outlines of his teeth interrupting them here and there. He’d been good – hadn’t broken the skin, no matter how much he’d wanted to. The wolves were excellent practice on that front. Who knows what would happen if he got his fangs in-
“Yes, I seem to have been mauled. Any idea what might’ve done it? Some sort of feral beast or something? After all, I hear you’re sort of the expert in these kinds of things,” the hybrid says without opening his eyes.
Cole brushes his thumb over one, and the hybrid shivers.
“Fucking icicle. Do you ever get any warmer?”
He shrugs and traces another. “Dunno. I don’t really get cold. And I don’t think it’s just me – you’re unnaturally warm.”
That gets him a quiet hmph, but he doesn’t tell Cole to stop or move away. If anything, Cole is pretty sure he likes it; his pulse hitches slightly and he’s not positive, but he’s fairly certain that the shadowy smudging across his cheekbones and chest is a flush.
His fingers slide over the curve of the hybrid’s hip to his ass, squeezing before he moves on to the base of his tail. That, Cole discovered earlier, is quite sensitive. Just like before, the hybrid lets out a quiet gasp when he wraps his fingers around it.
Grinning to himself, Cole releases it just long enough to drag the hybrid flush against his front before he takes it in his hand again. His next breathy little noise is hot against Cole’s throat and followed by the press of lips. He lets out a groan of his own and shifts slightly, seeking friction. The angle is wrong, the hybrid’s cock trapped between them, but if he’d just-
The hybrid hooks a hand behind Cole’s knee and pulls it over his thigh, adjusting so on the next roll of his hips, he pushes inside.
“Fuck,” he groans, burying his face under Cole’s chin.
“Hm?” Cole manages, trying for controlled and unaffected and coming out high and needy instead.
The reply is muffled against his skin, but Cole is pretty sure it’s something like so good.
And yes indeed. Cole’s fucked plenty of people – plenty of beings, supernatural and human alike – but none of them like this. Not that he’s ever fucked one of the fae or a demon, much less a celestial, but-
The angle changes again and a shocked little oh sound slips out of his throat before he can stop it. Not that he can regret it, though. He can’t think about anything, when he’s got the hybrid’s cock shoved so deep in his cunt that he can barely breathe. It’s so good, especially because he’s got this thick, ridged bit at the base – not exactly a knot, but better as far as he’s concerned. This he can rub up against and get himself off without even having to do anything.
He comes first, although the hybrid doesn’t make it more than a few final erratic thrusts before he spills inside of Cole in hot pulses that echo through Cole in trembling aftershocks.
“Mm,” the hybrid hums, kissing Cole’s throat lightly. He pulls out with a wet, obscene sound that almost has Cole wishing that he would push back in. But he doesn’t. He just flops onto his back, still breathing heavily, and Cole does the same.
The silence stretches and for a second Cole wonders if the hybrid’s fallen asleep again. He’s pretty sure he fell asleep first earlier, but that’s beside the point.
But then he says, “Question. How exactly are you in here when I didn’t invite you?”
“Hm?” He pushes back onto his side and meets the hybrid’s mismatched eyes. “Really? This is the conversation we’re starting the evening with?”
“Well yea- wait, evening? What time is it?” he asks, sitting up.
Cole shakes his wrist to get his watch face to light up and says, “Six-ish?”
The hybrid lets out a string of what Cole is fairly certain are curses in one of the demon languages, the grating, hissed syllables melding quite nicely with the hybrid’s accent.
“What?” He sits up as well, watching the agitated flick of the hybrid’s tail as he surveys the room, one hand in his hair.
“You have to go.”
“Wait, what?”
“I have a client in like, fifteen minutes? What time is it exactly?”
“Six-o-two.”
“Fuck. Thirteen minutes.”
Cole lets out a huff and gets out of bed, searching out his discarded clothing in the dim light of the room. The hybrid is still standing near the center, still except for his tail. He pulls on his shirt and underwear then fits himself to the hybrid’s back, catching his tail near the tip and threading it between his fingers. He kisses the back of his shoulder and wraps his free arm around his waist, rubbing at the hybrid’s hipbone with his thumb. “Calm down,” he says, voice low, “you have time.”
Cutting off what sounds like the start of a whine, he says, “No, I really don’t. You don’t-” He takes a forced breath, seeming to relax against Cole’s chest whether he intends to or not. “I need you to go. Now.”
It shouldn’t sting, but it does – the way the words come out all steely and sharp. Digs at his ego, or something. “Fine,” Cole replies, releasing him and stepping away. He grabs his jeans off the floor and pulls them on roughly, then does the same with his jacket. “Far fucking be it from me to get in the way of your plans, sweetheart.”
He tugs his boots on, leaving them unlaced and wide around his ankles, and steps around the hybrid and out of the room. He doesn’t listen for sounds of movement behind him as he storms toward the door. Certainly doesn’t pay attention to see if the sound of feet follow him across the floor or to the way the hybrid’s heartbeat might change or whether or not his breath goes shaky and uneven.
He just goes, letting the heavy wooden door close behind him with a thud.
Whatever. He did what he came to do, and now he’s free. Clear of this shit and fine to move on with his life. Debt paid. No favors owed. No, they’re certainly even now. He runs his tongue over his teeth reflexively, like that’ll magically get the taste of the demon out of his mouth.
He wastes no time getting back to the car, and from there to the airport. His bag was already in the back; leaving had always been the plan, he reminds himself.
“Sir, you’re going to need to remove everything from your pockets,” the woman working security says, her tone grating on Cole’s already stretched-thin nerves.
“There’s nothing in my fu-” he starts, patting himself down; he dropped his sunglasses and wallet in the little bin with his boots. There was nothing left. Except there is – a tiny vial in an inner pocket where he hadn’t put one. He reaches in, his fingers curling around the familiar shape of it.
“Sir, please remove the contents of your coat,” she says firmly. Another guard steps closer, clearly ready to intervene.
“Sorry, it’s really nothing,” he says smiling at her.
It doesn’t work. “Please remove whatever is in your pocket, place it in the bin, and step away,” she orders.
He sighs and withdraws his hand, keeping his fist carefully clenched around the vial. “Sweetheart,” he says, knowing that’ll do the trick.
Her eyes snap up to his, hard and angry.
“Just an old tube of chapstick, see?” he says, pouring all of his focus into changing her mind.
“Of course, sir,” she says, tone gone flat. “My mistake.”
“No worries, love. Just doing your job.” He winks and slips the bottle back into his pocket as he steps around her, smiling at the other guard even as the man’s eyes narrow. No one else questions him, though, and Cole boards his flight without issue.
It’s a good thing, too, because he thinks he might actually kill the next person who speaks to him, unsettled as he is.
The bottle was back in his pocket. The bottle of unicorn blood that he’d left with the demon. The demon he’d fucked not once, but several times.
Cole exhales a shaky breath, glad that he doesn’t have a pulse because surely if he did, it would be audible to the whole fucking plane.
Fourteen centuries of caution. Fourteen hundred godsdamned years, and he’d-
He forces his eyes shut and swallows. Calm down, he tells himself. Wills his body to comply. There was a way to solve this. He’d find it – he always does. He’s the one who solves problems. Gets other people out of their shit. This won’t be any different.
It’ll be fine.