Page 32 of Hallowed & Haunted

“Of course you did. It suits your aesthetic.”

“Shut up,” Niillas grumbles, but there’s no real heat behind the words.

“I can relate, though,” Sander says. “Your bear is beautiful.”

And something unclenches in Niillas’ chest, a coil wound tight for so long he can’t even remember when he felt relaxed in this way for the last time. Sander isn’t afraid of him; he isn’t going to run.

“I can’t believe how well you’re taking this.”

Sander keeps touching him, rubbing gentle circles against Niillas’ shoulder.

“I always hoped that maybe there was a little more to the world, maybe a dash of magic. And I always knew you were special.”

“Huh?”

Looking up from where his head is resting against Niillas’ shoulder, Sander regards him with a look that can be only described as smoldering. Obviously, it’s a good look on Sander.

“Come on, have you seen yourself on the ice? You’re a force of nature.”

“Were you scared of me?”

He knows that probably wasn’t what Sander was implying, but he needs to hear it anyway, and Sander’s breath hitches as he blushes some more.

“Never. At least not in the way you think.”

“In which way then?”

“Umm, I was kind of scared you wouldn’t like me? You’re not particularly easy to charm.”

He cups Sander’s face gently, giving him every opportunity to pull away, but Sander leans into the touch. He really isn’t afraid. Not of Niillas. Not of the bear. How can he be so perfectly brave?

“You tried to charm me, Captain?”

“Not very successfully. That’s why I might have been a little bit snarky.”

“You call that behavior snarky?”

Sander blinks up at him with an expression of pure innocence.

“You like it.”

“Yes,” Niillas rumbles, mesmerized by Sander’s lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Sander’s question is barely audible.

“Yes.”

Sander closes the distance between them slowly, as if savoring the anticipation. When his lips finally brush against Niillas’, it’s tender and sensual, in the way Sander can be soft and yielding sometimes. When he likes to be. But the kiss turns heated then, Sander nibbling at his bottom lip, and Niillas tilting his head. They push and pull for a moment, both seeking to dominate the kiss, and it’s absolutely thrilling how Sander doesn’t give him an inch until he does, sighing deeply and letting Niillas take him over.

Threading his fingers through Sander’s soft hair, Niillas angles his head to deepen the kiss, and Sander whines low in his throat.

When they break apart, Sander looks disheveled and dazed, and Niillas has never seen anything more beautiful.

“We should probably get going,” Sander says, though he doesn’t pull away. “Jonas and Emma are probably sick with worry.”

“Shit. We promised to text.”

“There’s no reception anyway. I tried a few times last night… before…before Marta and the troll.”