Page 8 of Fighting Fate (Monsters of London #4)

Vince

I wake the next day in Dax’s arms, and my first thought is that I really could get used to this.

The real world hits me like a freight train.

I can’t. I can’t get used to it. Any of it.

Dax is amazing, and whoever he ultimately settles down with—if that’s what he wants—will be a lucky, lucky guy.

But it’s not going to be me.

Still, I turn onto my side and study him for a moment. He has to work tomorrow, too, which is as good a reason as any to leave. At the café, he said, which he prefers over the pub.

My eyes wander over his face. He’s handsome, and though his expression is soft and slack as he sleeps, it’s just as open once he’s awake. Dark hair spills like ink onto the pillow around him and I reach out, running my fingers through soft strands.

It would be so easy to stay. I think Dax wants me to. Even if we both have to work tomorrow, which means going back into the real world…

When I look at Dax again, his eyes are half open, watching me like I’m some kind of skittish creature he doesn’t want to scare off. I smile and relax into the pillow again. My hand is still running through his hair.

“Won’t your flatmate want to come back soon?”

Dax shrugs. His voice is rough when he replies, “He’ll last. He might make a fuss in another day or so, I guess.”

I rub my thumb over the shell of his ear. Dax shivers. “What’s he like?”

He blinks, surprised, and his whole body goes tense for a moment before he relaxes again. It’s not that I want to know about some other guy. I just kind of want to soak this moment up, to pretend I get to have everything I want.

“Patch? He’s great. I moved here about ten years ago, and he and his sister, Millie, were the first to look out for me.”

“His sister?”

“She lives in Aldbury now, back where their parents are. She got married. Has kids. But we go see her every so often, or she comes here.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is.” There’s something hesitant in his eyes.

I shuffle a little closer, so it’s like we’re sharing a secret. Maybe we are. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Vince.”

“No, I don’t mean…” My hand slides down the side of his neck and Dax shivers again, but this time his eyelids flutter a little. He grasps my hip. “I mean , there’s something you don’t like about all this.”

“No one is perfectly happy in their lives all the time, are they?”

“No.” I smile. “No. But you can tell me, can’t you? After today, we won’t—” I cut myself off.

Dax’s eyes turn sad. He closes them briefly and leans in and presses our foreheads together. The tension leeches out of me all at once.

“The people I… work with,” Dax says quietly, hesitantly. “I think a lot of them don’t really like me. I came here to try the city, you know. Be part of something bigger. I don’t think I’ve done that.”

“Can’t you find somewhere else to work?”

“It’s not that simple,” Dax says.

I want to push, but I know better. It would hardly be my place with a friend, and Dax is… Not that.

“Why do you only do one night?” he says and, shocked, my gaze flies to his.

“I—What?”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

I suck in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I owe Dax an answer now, it feels like. I don’t think he’d insist. But I’ve been here two nights already, no matter how we try to justify things.

“I had this boyfriend,” I say, “and we were together for, what, three years? Nearly four. I walked in on him fucking his best friend. I broke up with him and spent time getting myself back together and got this girlfriend, and she cheated on me six months later with her ex.”

Dax’s grip on my hip tightens. When he opens his mouth, I shake my head.

“I know it’s not rational, maybe, but it kind of feels like a sign. I-I really cared about him. About both of them. I don’t think I can survive being hurt like that again.”

I can’t tell him the rest. The way they spoke to me—both of them. Why would they trust me to stay with them when there are so many pretty people out there to turn my head?

Not that I’d cheated on either of them. Not that I ever would.

But that’s a lot, and I don’t want a cloud over the time Dax and I have spent together.

Dax looks at me for a long moment. I expect him to say that he would never do that, that he wouldn’t hurt me, and there’s a moment where, if he does, I’ll believe him.

He doesn’t say it. He kisses me gently instead, something soft and deep, and then pulls me close. I cling to his shoulders and press my face into his throat.

“I get it,” he murmurs. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I swallow hard and keep them down. “And, for what it’s worth, I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve had together.”

I pull back and look up at him. “It’s not over yet.”

We shower and eat, and something soft settles in my chest. I still have to leave, but that’s for later. Dax seems to think so, too. I ask him teasing questions about the strange list of rules he has on the fridge ( no shedding on the sofa, no howling inside, wipe your paws if you’ve been somewhere muddy ), and he tells me he and Patch considered adopting a puppy. Or a pack of them.

After lunch, we play a battered version of Monopoly—it’s Patch’s, but it turns out that Dax is astonishingly competitive—and then I drag him back into the bedroom.

He groans when I kiss down his throat, tipping his head back to give me access to more unmarked skin. I frown, pulling back to look. I’m sure I left a mark near his collarbone last night, but now there’s nothing to be seen.

Dax whimpers when my mouth isn’t on him. I shove the thought aside and kiss him again. He grabs my hips, fitting them against his own, and when he starts to push my boxers down—well, his; I had to borrow some again—I bite his lower lip.

“Can I fuck you?” I ask. The words come out all in a rush and Dax stills for only a second before he nods vigorously.

“Yes! Yes, let’s do that.”

I laugh against his mouth, tipping him back against the mattress. Well, he goes. I’m under no illusions that I’m the stronger one of the two of us.

The condoms and the lube are within reach, just like they’ve been all weekend, and I snatch them up, fumbling both onto the bed. Dax huffs and gets a condom out of the box as I open the lube. He pulls off his boxers and I kneel between his legs.

He’s so soft , for all that he’s muscular and strong. I dig my fingers into his thighs, letting go only to stroke over the silky skin inside them and make him shiver. Dax watches me with dark, dark eyes, mouth half open as he pants.

I’ve barely even touched him—I’ve been touching him all weekend—and yet, it feels like there’s something between us. Something I’m willing to indulge, at least for now. I lean forward and kiss him, and the whimper that escapes into my mouth is almost desperate.

I suck on his tongue and press a slick finger against his hole. He doesn’t tense. He pushes back against me immediately, and I slip inside without resistance. He’s hot and soft here too, and I fuck him open slowly, pulling back to watch the play of expressions across his face.

“I won’t break,” Dax says against my mouth.

Something in my chest twists. He’s not lying, but it feels like one. Like I could break him, somehow, even if we hardly know each other.

I kiss him again because I wouldn’t want to say that aloud even if I knew how to. Dax lets out a little grunt when I add another finger, hands roaming over my arms and shoulders.

“You good, baby?” I murmur against his mouth.

“Y-Yeah. Fuck me, Vince.”

I slide my fingers free and unfasten the condom with my teeth. Dax pushes up on his elbows to watch as I roll it on and slick up my cock. I let out a breath. I could ask him to turn over, and I know he would. Could tell him I want to fuck him up against the wall, or pull his hair, or—

Concern flickers over Dax’s face. “Vince?”

“I’m good.” My hands are shaking. There’s no part of me that doesn’t want this; that’s not the problem. The problem is how much. I’ve never felt desperation like this before.

Dax reaches for me. One big hand cups the side of my face and I turn my head to kiss his palm.

“I’m good,” I say again, and he nods.

“Okay.” He lies back and spreads his legs.

Fuck. Okay. I can do this. I line my cock up with his hole, his thighs on either side of my hips, and begin to push inside. The way in is easy, like we fit together perfectly, and I don’t dwell on that thought, not for a second. I don’t dwell on the fact that I need to leave later, either. There’s nothing other than this. This moment. This perfect snapshot in time.

Dax groans when I bottom out, reaching for me. His hands are greedy, eager, and I laugh into his mouth when he kisses me. One hand lands on the back of my neck, holding me close, so I roll my hips, grinding into him. He clutches me tighter and moans against my mouth.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur and kiss the corner of his lips. “You good?”

“Yes, Vince, fuck—”

I grin and push up so I can fuck him harder, deeper. I know how to do this, and I know I can make us both feel good without this becoming anything more than what it is. Dax gasps and groans as I thrust in and out, shifting slightly until my cock brushes his prostate and his back arches off the bed.

“Good?” I ask. I know my grin is a little wild, but Dax doesn’t seem to care.

“Do it again.”

I do. Again and again until Dax is nothing more than a trembling mess, waiting for me to give him what he needs. His cock is hard, and neither of us has touched it. It strains up towards his stomach, pre-cum dripping onto his skin. My mouth waters at the sight of it, but I’m not that flexible.

I take him in hand instead, and Dax cries out, not expecting it at all. He grabs at the duvet—he does that, when he gets really into it—and his eyes look almost silver in this light. I kiss his cheek, his jaw, his pec. Dax trembles and pushes back against me.

“Vince.” He whines, whole body shaking with each thrust. “Vince, I need you to— Please —”

I’m sure as shit not finishing before he does. I stroke him faster, squeezing hard at the head, the way I’ve learnt he likes. Dax squeezes his eyes shut. His chest heaves with each sawing breath, and for a moment, the sight of him mesmerises me, that I have him at my mercy like this, that I can make him feel this good.

He comes with a hoarse cry. It shoots from the end of his cock, painting his stomach, and he squeezes so tightly around me that it’s only a second before I come, too. I slam my hips forward, and if not for the condom, I know I’d be spilling deep, deep inside him.

My arms tremble when we’re done. I’m still holding myself up, even as lazy aftershocks of pleasure travel through me. Dax makes a questioning sound.

“Vince?”

He sounds wrecked. Some strange satisfaction curls in my chest. Strange in how right it feels, like I’m the one who should make him sound like that, and no one else.

I lower myself until we’re pressed chest-to-chest. I’m still inside him, and I press my face against his neck, take a piece of skin between my teeth, and suck hard. Dax whines and bucks up against me. His heart is thudding against his ribs. I can feel it.

“V-Vince…”

I’ve left a mark. I lick over it, knowing it’s a wholly unfair thing to do—and that I should have asked him first—but find myself unable to care. I want my marks all over him. I want everyone to look at him and know he’s—

My breath freezes in my chest. He’s not mine. He’ll never be mine. Because I don’t know him, not really.

It’s not his fault. I kiss his jaw and raise my head. “You okay?”

Dax’s arms come up around me, and neither of us cares about the mess now, but I know we will soon.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, and his next words make my heart break in two. “I’m perfect.”