Page 11 of Lovesick Gods (Lovesick #1)

Mal had enough Thai food to feed his entire team, which would hopefully be enough to feed Danny.

Nothing if not a gracious, accommodating host, while Mal didn’t know the ins and outs of Danny’s powers as much as he wished he did, having a healing factor was difficult to hide, and Elementals with accelerated healing were known to use up energy faster than anyone on the planet. Danny would have a healthy appetite.

Closing the door to his third floor apartment with the takeout bag over his arm, the one luxury—well, one of many luxuries—Mal allowed himself was that his home was technically two apartments, extending to both the third and fourth floors of the building, giving him lofted ceilings and a bedroom up an open flight of stairs.

He had few windows, if only for privacy’s sake and to be more practical, the largest being in the bedroom, which looked out over the skyline of Olympus City.

Some nights, when Mal wasn’t out on the streets himself, the sight of a certain flash of yellow lightning made him smirk as he settled into bed and occasionally let his mind and hands wander.

Tonight his hands could finally grasp the untouchable.

Setting the takeout on the kitchen island, the long countertop faced the living room from his open floor plan.

Mal liked space, an openness that allowed him to breathe and see every corner clearly.

His furniture was mostly trimmed in wood accents, oak, not too light or dark.

The sofa was large and firm, not overly plush, in navy microsuede.

From the walls hung a few paintings, a few photographs, some worth more than five times his rent, others worth very little, but nothing that had been stolen could ever be proven as stolen.

His favorite was a Mapplethorpe nude— Thomas, 1987 .

Like the god Apollo, all strength and beauty in the male form, twisted within a circular frame.

Black and white. Unapologetic, like all of Mapplethorpe’s work.

Most people would assume it was a print.

They’d never guess it was the original and that a print had replaced the real thing when Mal acquired it.

His few more personal photographs were kept in the bedroom.

Having sent his trench coat to the cleaners after Danny spilled coffee on it, Mal had replaced the jacket with a wool coat from his safe house, which he removed and hung in the closet near the door.

His jacket and tie had been ditched earlier, but now he untucked his shirt as well, the first two buttons already undone.

With his shoes placed on the rug in front of the closet, he was the picture of leisure confidence.

Everything around the apartment was in order, nothing needed to be tidied. But Mal felt uncharacteristically tense. Anxious to do something. Nervous.

It had been a while, but he knew how to please a lover.

Maybe he was nervous about letting Danny into his home.

It was a gamble, but Danny’s good nature always won out.

He wouldn’t use this against Mal, not without mutual benefit.

Danny didn’t have it in him to set up some grand trap.

He was more likely to suspect Mal had a double-cross prepared.

Best to keep his Prometheus gear out of sight.

Mal had a hidden room, nothing too cartoon villainous, just a seamless section of the wall that only he knew the exact location of to open up with a strategic press of his palm, and therein rested his gear—dark-lensed goggles; black, high-collared bodysuit; long, sleeveless duster.

Everything accounted for, so nothing was at risk of being discovered in the open.

Closing the room again, Mal moved into the living room to wait. This was a bad idea. A terrible, dangerous idea. But when it inevitably turned disastrous, he still had a few cards to play to keep Danny in line.

A knock sounded at the door, stopping Mal in his step. Ten minutes early . Interesting.

Like an actor with jitters before an opening performance, Mal was calm and grinning and on the moment he opened his door for the show to begin.

The same teasing, heated expression he’d stared back at in shock at the coffee shop rested on Danny’s face. He’d forgone the sweater and blazer from work and replaced them with a white T-shirt, tan bomber jacket, and jeans.

“Danny.”

“Hey.” Danny flicked his tongue over his lips.

“Come in. Shoes off at the door.” Standing back to grant Danny entrance, Mal nodded at the rug. He hadn’t chosen hardwood floors to see them scuffed.

“Of course you’re a neat freak,” Danny said with a touch of derision, but he complied, heeling off his shoes and setting them next to Mal’s on the rug. “Is this your— wow ,” and then he looked up, really looked and took a step further into the apartment.

Hands falling limp at his sides, he scanned every wall and surface in utter wonder. Mal noticed Danny’s gaze linger on the black and white nude—good taste, or maybe curiosity—before he whirled around to face him.

“Is this your actual home? Where you live ?”

“One of several locations where I eat, sleep, and spend my time,” Mal answered, purposely cryptic. “Problem?”

Danny laughed, letting some of his usual jitteriness peek through his bravado as he averted his gaze. Rubbing the back of his neck like a nervous tick, needing to do something with his hands, he eyed Mal from head to toe. “Not at all. Never seen you so casual before.”

“We are on my turf, Sparky. Why, you hoping for a three-piece suit?”

“Maybe. Suits look good on you.”

“Well then. Next time I pull a heist, I’ll wear one. See if I can trip you up.”

Danny laughed again, more openly this time, and what tension had been clinging to his shoulders fell away. Ice broken. Mal was good at that.

“Hungry?” He gestured behind him at the Thai food on the counter, but when he turned around, the crack of lightning and rush of air was instant.

Mal’s breath escaped his lungs with a gasp, and when he blinked, he found himself staring out at his living room instead of facing the counter, his back pressed tight to the refrigerator as Danny pinned him. He’d turned his back on his enemy. Sloppy.

Instinct prompted a coating of ice to form over his hands, but Danny’s words made him pause.

“I didn’t come here for a date,” he whispered hot against Mal’s lips, all in his space, daring him to resist or fight back.

The show of power was an immediate turn on now that Mal saw no threat was involved. He let his ice start to recede , and the heat in Danny’s eyes was more than enough to keep it melted.

“If you feel like eating something,” Danny said, “maybe you should get on your knees.”

Mal shuddered and bit back a curse the moment he felt the tremor travel through him. He wanted to instill that sort of reaction in Danny. Danny had taken the lead that morning, but Mal had still expected he’d be the one calling the shots once things got serious. This was a whole other side to Zeus.

Leaning forward to capture the full, parted lips before him, Mal was surprised that Danny flinched back.

A shimmer of indecision rippled across his features, and Mal feared this would all end before it began.

But then Danny’s confidence returned—the desire in his eyes, the firm set to his jaw as he bit his lip, leaving it reddened and begging to be sucked in between Mal’s teeth.

Smiling coyly, Danny backed away, holding Mal by the scruff of his shirt.

He tugged him away from the fridge and led them out of the kitchen toward the sofa, one hand tangled in Mal’s shirt all the way there, even when he turned forward to move past the coffee table and sat in the center cushion.

Still gripping the dark blue fabric, Danny toppled Mal forward with a swift yank.

Mal spread his legs, straddling Danny’s waist to accommodate, and fit snug and secure in Danny’s lap. While Danny had denied him a kiss moments before, now he initiated it, and Mal let him, let Danny grasp his neck and pull him down until they met heatedly in the middle.

Soft lips, wet tongue, the restrained pull of teeth. Danny licked his way in deeper and Mal shuddered down to his toes— damn , this kid. He felt so good between Mal’s thighs, face beneath his palms, as Mal’s thumbs stroked his fine, smooth cheekbones.

Mal had expected at least one drink. Maybe dinner. Some attempt of Danny’s to tell him about his day . He didn’t think Sparky had it in him to request a booty call and actually deliver. Mal had never so thoroughly enjoyed being proven wrong.

Danny’s left arm snaked around his waist, found the hem of his untucked shirt, and pushed up underneath it.

Wincing at the contact of skin, Mal fought the instinctive reaction down.

Not tonight. He wanted to enjoy this, without the hang-ups, without the revulsion that sometimes coiled in his gut.

With the right partner, doing enough to make him feel good, Mal could forget that there was ever a time in his life when no touch to his body had been done in tenderness.

He focused on Danny’s warm skin, on the tangle of his tongue, on the feel of him growing hard in his jeans beneath Mal’s weight. The blood rushed from his brain southward, and the din of disquiet drained away as well. Danny was going to feel so good…

Bucking up into Mal as if to stress that point, Danny gasped from the kiss, hot and noisy against the side of Mal’s mouth.

Tongue darting out, Mal kissed his way along Danny’s jaw in response, kissed his neck, sucked on the skin there hard and eager, and ground his hips down into Danny at the same time.

“Yeah, yeah…” Danny huffed, sending another tremor to flutter low in Mal’s belly.