Page 57

Chapter 15

Malcolm

H e was splashing water on his face, trying to erase the red in his eyes that wasn’t anything to do with his incubus aspect, but all too human for his liking, when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Malcolm?”

Kostas. He couldn’t quite figure out what to do. He wanted to wrench the door open and stare at the siren, like he was a starving man and Kostas a steak dinner. Also, he wanted to not open the door, not ever. If he opened the door, then Kostas saw him like this. At his lowest, most pathetic, most entirely unlovable.

And sure, Malcolm had never expected to be loved.

Never wanted it , he promised himself. But that didn’t mean he wanted to be so thoroughly unlovable as he felt. Not like his father, someone remembered and reviled decades after the fact.

“Can I come in?” Kostas asked, his voice even lower, smoother and more tempting.

Not that Malcolm felt any magic in it, any undeniable desperation to bash himself against the rocks of another person’s inevitable eventual rejection. No, he just... liked Kostas’s voice. His face. His arrogantly quirked deep teal eyebrow when he thought Malcolm was being an asshole.

Hesitantly, slowly, he unlocked the door and cracked it open.

What if Kostas saw him in the cheap old ill-fitting clothes and changed his mind about Malcolm being attractive? That was all he’d ever had going for him. He wasn’t a nice person. Wasn’t rich without Elrith’s support. Wasn’t well-read or educated. Didn’t have a great job—or any job at all.

He didn’t like what he saw when he looked in the mirror, so he couldn’t much expect Kostas to like what he saw in Malcolm either.

It was just that... everyone always did. They saw that he was pretty. Saw his incubus. Wanted.

No one had looked past the glittery sheen of attractive incubus and seen the rotten, unlovable core of Malcolm in so long. He never let them stay that long.

Instead of sneering at his puffy red eyes or threadbare shirt, Kostas just... he stepped into the bathroom, into Malcolm’s space, and wrapped his arms around him.

Part of him wanted to recoil, to push the siren away. No, that was a lie. No part of him wanted that, but the insidious, hurt part of him that was tired of being unlovable Malcolm told him he needed to. To push first, because if he tried to grab Kostas and hold on... if he did that, then when Kostas eventually pulled away, he would shatter into a million pieces.

But when Kostas enveloped him, he didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.

Instead, he folded into the embrace, practically trying to burrow into Kostas. Like if only he could get deep enough, Kostas couldn’t push him away. If he could just burrow under the man’s skin, into the heart of him, then maybe he could stay there, small and quiet and unnoticed, forever.

Instead of trying to pull back, Kostas lifted Malcolm into his arms and walked him out of the bathroom, into a bedroom that was dominated by a big, fur-covered bed.

Gently, almost sweetly, he lay Malcolm across the bed and pulled a fur over him—and seriously, it was a real, actual fur. From... a sheep, maybe? Heavy, thick, and off-white, with leather hide on the opposite side, it was maybe the warmest, softest thing Malcolm had ever curled up with.

Kostas lay down next to him, which was unexpected enough, but then, instead of just going for it, from zero to sexytimes in two seconds flat, he rolled them both onto their sides and snuggled up behind Malcolm.

Was he... was he being spooned? People talked about that a lot, but certainly no one had ever tried it with Malcolm unless they were also trying to figure out how to get their dick in his ass in that position.

Instead, Kostas just held him. Solid and quiet and warm, he held Malcolm, his arms wrapped around Malcolm’s chest, their hearts beating in sync, their breathing mingled and soft.

He drifted off to sleep, the strangest, unfamiliar sense of peace filling him and following him into his rest.

When he woke to a soft knock on the door, it was dark in the room. They must have slept half the day away like that—and they were still in the same position. Kostas wrapped around Malcolm like an enthusiastic octopus, but his hands gentle and comforting rather than searching and wanting.

“Mmm?” Kostas hummed, and the very tone set Malcolm further at ease, sending him drifting back toward sleep.

“Stew’s ready,” Otis whispered into the darkness. “I know he don’t need any, and it ain’t ideal for you, but if you’re gonna make it back into town, you’ll need something.”

So Malcolm made a show of sitting up and stretching, offering Kostas a tentative smile. Would he keep up their truce? “I could eat. If there’s enough. I wouldn’t want to take someone else’s sustenance.”

Kostas smiled and shook his head, sitting up to kiss Malcolm’s cheek. “If the amount of vegetables I chopped was any indication, there’s enough for a month.”

Otis smiled at them both as he turned away, and by the time they caught up with him in the kitchen, he had dished up stew and set it at the table for both of them, and he was coming back with his own bowl in hand.

Dinner was, well, frankly, it was bizarre. Oh, the stew tasted delicious. Salty and meaty and filled with what had to be fresh vegetables, it was unlike anything Malcolm had ever eaten in his life. But sitting at a table with these two people was the bizarre part. They both... smiled at him, and asked his opinion, and seemed to care when he spoke.

Not like back home, where when he opened his mouth, everyone braced themselves. He’d trained them to do it, admittedly. He’d been such an ass for so long that no one in their right mind would expect anything but vitriol from him.

It had always been easier that way.

Too damn soon, Otis was scraping the bottom of his bowl, and a moment later, he was whisking away the empty dishes to the sink for washing.

Malcolm wanted to offer to do them himself—him, Malcolm fucking McKittack, wanting to do manual labor!—just to extend the moment. To talk about the woods and the weather and which way was the easiest route to get to Lyric from here.

But instead, Kostas took his hand, a tiny smile playing across his lips like he could see just what kind of pathetic nonsense was going through Malcolm’s mind, and led him back to the bedroom.

“Isn’t this Otis’s bedroom?” Malcolm asked, wondering who the hell was speaking with his mouth even as he said it. “We shouldn’t put him out.”

Kostas chuckled at that, pulling Malcolm tight against him, seeming not the least bit put off by the inane chatter or the less than flattering clothes. “He said we should take it. Two of us, one of him. And we’ll leave tomorrow, so we’re not taking over his bed forever.”

“But—” Malcolm glanced back at the bed, considering just what he’d like to do in it, and wondering if that was rude, given how kind Otis had been to them.

Kostas, it seemed, didn’t care all that much.

He gave Malcolm a light shove, pushing him down onto the bed, then peeling him out of the loose T-shirt and sweatpants. When he’d stripped Malcolm completely bare, he pulled back to stare, eyes raking over his work and looking damned pleased with himself.

Those heavy-lidded teal eyes tracked back up to his own after a moment, and he started stripping out of his clothes, slowly and casually. Like somehow it had been important to get Malcolm naked, but this part could take all night.

As he finished with the zipper on his jeans, he climbed onto the bed, on his knees, hooking Malcolm’s bare legs with his arms and pushing them up wide. He leaned down so their faces were so close their breaths mingled and Malcolm’s eyes couldn’t focus on anything but Kostas.

“You put up with food for my sake,” Kostas told him, matter of fact and leaving no room for disagreement. Then, even worse, he added, “It was sweet.”

“I—”

“So now,” Kostas interrupted when Malcolm tried to explain that it had been nothing of the kind, “I’m going to make sure you get properly fed too. All you can eat, little incubus.”

Lust lit up Malcolm’s whole body. Among humans, from what they had told him, it seemed to be centralized in one area. Women talked about the feeling in their bellies, or “exploding ovaries,” and the men talked about their balls like they were sentient entities. For him, in these moments, it was like every single nerve in his body was alight, reaching for the offered energy and grabbing at Kostas with everything he had.

But somehow, with Kostas, it was different.

He didn’t feel like he was drawing from a finite pool. Taking a bite of a sandwich or something like that. He felt like he was dipping a toe in the ocean. Like Kostas was infinite, and Malcolm couldn’t possibly take all of his energy, even if he tried.

Was it something about the combination of an incubus and a siren, or was Kostas just that special?

Because it felt like the latter, and that was... dangerous.

Damn him, Malcolm hesitated. He never hesitated when someone offered him a meal. Never.

Kostas paused at the look on his face, but then, for some reason, he smiled. He leaned in until their lips were touching, their noses brushing against each other, and all Malcolm could see was the endless teal of the siren’s eyes. “And tomorrow, too.”

“And tomorrow?” He had to fight not to cringe at the pitiful hope in his voice, but Kostas nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

And Malcolm leaned that millimeter up to push their lips together. Kostas took it as permission, thrusting his tongue into Malcolm’s mouth and plundering it until they were both breathless and gasping. Somehow at the same time gasping for air, and for more.

More of Kostas’s briny, salty scent, his heat, his skin... More Kostas. And not just tonight, but tomorrow too.

When Kostas pulled back, the whine Malcolm gave—well, it wasn’t pretty. Far from put off, though, his siren grinned, showing off a row of sharp teeth that somehow primed Malcolm’s nerves even more. Like he was prey as much as lover, except that even knowing Kostas was a siren, and his people were violent predators, it only gave him a thrill of lust, no real fear.

Kostas might bite him, something he thought he’d probably like quite a bit, but he would never take a bite out of him.

And sure enough, he leaned down and scratched his teeth lightly over the skin of Malcolm’s neck, then his chest. Not hard enough to draw blood—more like he was scratching an itch.

The only thing that touched the tip of Malcolm’s cock, though, was his tongue, licking a stripe from root to tip that almost made Malcolm jackknife straight off the bed.

He didn’t leave any time to calm down, just grinning wide and heading straight back to—oh. Oh!

Well he supposed that would work, given their lack of lube. The feel of a tongue running down his perineum wasn’t completely unfamiliar, but it wasn’t something many of Malcolm’s previous lovers had been interested in. The tongue wiggling its way inside him was... well.

That was new. Warm and wet and deliciously indulgent.

He let his body go lax against the sheets and rode the waves of pleasure as Kostas set him on fire. After a moment, a finger slid in beside the tongue, soft and sensitive at first, then thrusting deep. Then another finger, and Malcolm was lost to sensation.

When Kostas pulled away, after a few seconds or an eternity, Malcolm couldn’t help but whimper again, shoving up toward where that hot wet tongue and fingers had been. When it was almost immediately replaced by a cock, thrust in as fast and unforgiving as the fingers before it, Malcolm hissed in satisfaction.

And then, no joke, he started to fucking purr. Like a cat, his chest started rumbling with the absolute bliss of Kostas pushing inside him. Feeling full in a way he somehow never had before. And okay, Kostas’s dick was impressive, but Malcolm didn’t think it was that.

It didn’t matter, though, because Kostas’s grin widened in satisfaction, and he hitched Malcolm’s legs over his shoulders, practically folding him in half. He steadied them both before he slid out and thrust in again, pressing their bodies tight together as he built up a rhythm, fucking Malcolm with hard, purposeful snaps of his hips, their flesh slapping together in the quiet room.

Quiet but for Malcolm fucking purring. And he couldn’t stop it. Nor, he realized, did he particularly want to.

He wanted to stay there like that, Kostas fucking him, hard and fast and strong, forever. Even in a cabin in the woods, no city and no nice clothes to be found.

None of that mattered, beside Kostas’s fat cock pushing all the way inside him, like he belonged there. Like he was a part of him.

For the first time in his memory, Malcolm came before his partner. Just one slightly angled thrust that hit his prostate, and Malcolm bowed up from the bed, whining out Kostas’s name, reaching out and grabbing at his shoulders, trying to draw him impossibly closer, as lightning crashed through his body, leaving him limp and spent as Kostas continued to fuck into him, his own pleasure continuing to build to a crescendo, as Malcolm felt the crest of his orgasm like an echo of his own, filling him up, feeding him until he was more sated than he’d ever thought it possible to be.

Completely stuffed, all of his hollow spaces found and filled, including what he’d thought had been an empty cavity where a heart should be.

Oh hell .

Was that what this was? Was he falling for the beautiful siren? What was he going to do with that?