Page 13

Chapter 13

Nathan

None of them spoke on the way back to HQ. Judah wiped his face suspiciously often, but he didn’t make a sound. Nathan focused on driving calmly and predictably. If they were pulled over now, even the guild wouldn’t be able to help them.

At HQ, he drove around to the medical wing at the back of the administrative building and sent Aidan in for Maxwell, who trundled out with a black body bag on a wheeled cot within a few moments. Nathan held his breath as he and Frederic gently laid the body into the open body bag. None of them moved as Maxwell zipped it up. As soon as it was out of sight, Nathan sent the others home.

“I’ll write up the report and let you all sign off on it in the morning,” he said, aware of the hollowness of his own voice but unsure how to change it. There was pressure in his throat, and his stomach churned like ocean water after a storm, frothy and dark. He watched them all trudge away silently, every set of shoulders slouched with defeat.

“You’re injured,” Maxwell noted as he positioned himself at the foot of the cot, preparing to push it back inside.

He’d wrapped the bite wound and the scratch marks from the demon’s bony hand with some gauze, but it’d been a hasty job. Some of the gauze had started coming loose from the tape on the drive here. He’d been more worried about getting back to HQ. The adrenaline would fade eventually, but for now he barely felt the pain.

“Come inside, and I’ll clean you up.”

Nathan wanted to protest. He really wanted nothing more than to go home and be as far away from the body as he could get, but Maxwell wasn’t to be trifled with when there were injuries that needed tending. He followed sedately behind him, until Maxwell gestured for him to go into the examination room. All six of the cots in this room were empty, the sheets clean and white. The curtains around the beds were pushed back, and the whole room seemed to be waiting in anticipation of a human who needed tending.

He sat on one of the cots and waited silently while Maxwell delivered the body to another room, trying to swallow the pressure in his throat and calm the churning of his stomach.

“You’ve looked better,” Maxwell said when he returned, his gaze soft and knowing.

“I’ve felt better,” he croaked. “That was… the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

Maxwell’s dark eyes were soft with sympathy as he wheeled a metal tray laden with supplies closer. “You’re lucky to be alive, sounds like.”

That was truer than Maxwell knew. Nathan tugged the plastic bag from his pocket while Maxwell removed the gauze from his left arm.

“The boy tried to make me swallow this,” he said. Inside the plastic baggy was the pill capsule he’d forced into Nathan’s mouth.

Maxwell stilled, then took the bag from him slowly.

“I managed to spit it out. I’m sure we’re all interested in knowing what it’s made of.” He imagined there’d be bone fragments and sulfur inside it, and a shiver went down his spine at how closely he’d come to ingesting it. Would he have been like that boy, then? Enslaved by a possessor demon who wanted to burst out of his chest like an alien?

“You’re very lucky to be alive,” Maxwell said grimly.

He nodded dumbly. “Feels that way.”

Maxwell set the baggy aside, pursing his lips. “I’m afraid Commander Sloan won’t like that you found this.”

‘Found’ was a generous term for how he’d come across that pill. “You think so?”

Maxwell dipped his head. “He informed the council of your ‘twisted theory,’ as he called it. He suspects you’ve been swayed by the traitors and their demons.”

Nathan sighed. He was still too numb from everything that had happened to give that the outrage it deserved.

“If it’s all the same to you,” Maxwell went on easily, setting Nathan’s bloodied gauze aside and turning his arm to inspect the bite, “I’d like to test the contents of the pill before I take it to the council.”

Nathan unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Could you tell me what you find? I’d like to inform the—traitors.” He stumbled over the word, too strung out to pretend he meant it.

Maxwell nodded. “Of course.”

A handful of stitches and antibiotic shots later, he was declared healthy enough to head home. The good doctor promised to fill Sloan in first thing in the morning and demanded Nathan take until at least noon before coming in and writing up his report tomorrow. Nathan couldn’t even summon the energy to argue.

He desperately wanted to go home. It didn’t make much sense to him. He’d still be a murderer at home, but somehow he felt like familiar ground would make it easier to digest.

His body moved on autopilot without his permission, carrying him to his car. The drive passed in a forgettable blur, and soon enough he found himself sitting in his driveway. The porch light was on, like the house had been waiting up for him.

He turned off the ignition and stepped out of the car. A cool breeze blew gently through the trees, and his chin wobbled. His squad was gone. There was no one left to be strong for. This was the safest place he could be, and his body was done waiting.

Nathan crashed to his knees on the path, his keys clattering to the concrete as he vomited into the grass. In his mind, he saw the boy, his chest broken open and his eyes blank and unseeing. He could still feel the resistance of his spinal cord as he killed him, like hitting a root in the dirt. Mercy killing or no, he would never forgive himself for failing that boy. If he died and woke up in Hell, he would know without a glimmer of doubt that he deserved to be there, and he wouldn’t even have to ask why.

He heaved until there was nothing else to throw up, leaving him shaking and sweating on his knees, tears streaking down his face.

Gentle hands touched his shoulders, and he startled, twisting away and reaching for a blade only to see white hair and familiar red eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s just me,” Storm said quickly.

Nathan’s head swirled with confusion. “Storm? What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.” He shrugged, like it was the simplest thing in the world, but worry cut deep lines between his brows. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Storm wouldn’t judge him for killing that boy, but Nathan couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’d done aloud. He shook his head, his face collapsing with grief. Tears ran hot down his cheeks, too fast for him to even wipe away.

“You’re freaking me out, sunshine,” Storm said. “Come here.” He opened his arms, and it was impossible to resist. Nathan pressed closer, and they curled around him, warm and comforting. Nathan only cried harder, hiding his sobs in the curve of Storm’s neck.

He heard the jangle of his keys, and then Storm was lifting him bridal-style, like he weighed nothing. Nathan clung to him, unwilling to raise his head.

A moment later, they were inside, and Storm closed and locked the door behind them, enclosing them inside Nathan’s private sanctuary.

“Where do you want to go? Sofa? Bed? Shower?” Storm asked, hovering by the door.

He was exhausted, but he needed to scrub his body until it was raw. “Shower,” he rasped.

Somehow, he didn’t expect Storm to undress him, but when they got to the bathroom, Storm set him on the bathroom counter and went to work on his military-style boots.

“I can?—”

“Shut up,” Storm said, his red eyes blazing. “I told you, you’re freaking me out. Let me do this.”

Nathan shook. “‘Kay.” He was too scattered to protest.

His easy acquiescence didn’t seem to set Storm at ease. He dropped one boot after the other to the floor, then turned his attention to the buckles holding Nathan’s knives to his outer thighs, scowling deeply when they didn’t spring apart right away for him.

Nathan wordlessly reached for the buckles around his legs, and when Storm saw where they were he swatted Nathan’s hands away and loosened them himself. When they were off, discarded to the floor with his boots, Storm paused, cupping Nathan’s face and studying him intently. His thumb swept slowly back and forth across Nathan’s cheek, and Nathan leaned into it, fitting his hands on either side of Storm’s waist and drawing him between his legs so he could rest his head on his chest. The languid, steady pulse of his heart soothed him, and Nathan felt as though he could breathe easy for the first time since the patrol.

Storm tried to peel himself away, but Nathan held fast. “I thought you wanted a shower,” Storm murmured, curling around him and squeezing reassuringly tight.

Nathan took a breath to speak, but it shuddered down into his chest and brought more tears to his eyes. He bit down on his lip, but there was no stifling it. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he keened. God, why couldn’t he stop ?

“Don’t apologize.” Storm’s hand cradled the back of his head, threading into the short strands. “I’ll stand here for as long as you need.”

Nathan melted against him, trusting that Storm could take his weight. When his hitching breaths subsided enough, he gently pushed Storm away and gave him a nod. Storm backed away, keeping one eye on him while he reached behind the shower curtain and turned the water on. He was more surprised than he probably should’ve been when Storm removed his own shirt, dropping it carelessly on the tile floor.

Nathan’s sleeve was ripped, but it still hid the gauze well enough—that is, until Storm stepped into his space and tugged it off him. He made a soft noise under his breath, taking Nathan’s wrist in hand.

“What did this to you?”

He didn’t trust himself to speak yet. Instead, he unwound the medical tape and removed the gauze, revealing the very human-looking bite wound on his forearm, now closed with stitches and blooming with a dark bruise. The scratches from the possessor demon’s clawed hand hadn’t needed any stitches, at least. Storm’s finger gently traced the curved shape of the teeth marks. When his red gaze met Nathan’s, they were knowing. It probably didn’t take a genius to figure out what did this. Nathan had texted them all earlier in the day about a paladin who’d been killed by a possessor, after all.

Storm softened, taking Nathan’s face in both hands and guiding his face up to seal their mouths together. Nathan spared a thought for how gross he probably tasted, but Storm didn’t deepen it. It felt like gratitude, this kiss, a soft brush of lips like Nathan was as precious as spun glass. Like Storm was reminding himself that Nathan was still there. And Nathan needed the reminder, too.

“Come,” Storm said, tugging him off the counter. “Shower. Then bed.”

He helped Nathan out of his black cargos and navy blue boxer briefs. Heat flushed through Nathan at the intimacy of it, but Storm didn’t linger over the act or Nathan’s nudity. He held the curtain aside so Nathan could step under the spray, then shucked the last of his own clothes and stepped in with him.

Nathan didn’t expect that. He should’ve, since he saw Storm take his shirt off, but the minute Storm’s arms wrapped around him under the heat of the water, he lost it again. He tipped his head back to rest on Storm’s sturdy shoulder, the water pounding against his chest.

His plans to scrub himself raw were forgotten as Storm massaged shampoo into his hair and ran the soapy washcloth over his skin. Storm’s hardness was obvious, pressing against Nathan’s bottom, but it seemed to be an afterthought as he guided Nathan around and urged his head back. Gentle fingers coaxed the suds from his hair and down his body, and he kept his left hand on Storm’s shoulder the whole time so his stitches wouldn’t get drenched.

When they stepped out of the shower, Storm tended to him first, wrapping him in a towel and buffing him dry. The action had tears springing to his eyes again, because Storm was being so endlessly patient and caring, but he fought them down this time. He couldn’t keep weeping over every little thing. Falling apart didn’t solve anything.

Still naked, Nathan gestured to the sink and padded over to brush his teeth while Storm gathered their dirty clothes and his abandoned weapons, carrying it all from the bathroom. Nathan stared at the hollow expression on his own face as he brushed the aftertaste of vomit from his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale. He looked like hell, and he felt like it, too.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Storm was waiting in the hall for him, as naked as the day he was born. He was holding a bottle of water from Nathan’s fridge, the outside fogging with cold. He gestured to Nathan’s bedroom, and Nathan led him inside, unable to muster any self-consciousness about his own nudity.

The bed was the most alluring thing he’d ever laid eyes on. He made it neatly each morning, but the blankets had already been pulled back. It was a small gesture but a thoughtful one, because Nathan felt welcomed into his own bed as he slipped beneath the blankets.

“Drink this,” Storm said, thrusting the bottle at him.

Nathan took it as Storm slid into bed beside him. He realized as he brought the bottle to his lips that he was thirsty . He drank and drank, unable to stop until his lungs screamed for air, then lowered the crackling plastic with a gasp. Over half of it was gone now, and Storm was watching him with something like satisfaction. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and Storm set the bottle aside for him.

Laying in the dark, the boy’s pale, horrified face swam before him, and he turned toward Storm, reaching blindly for his head and drawing him into a kiss. The electric brush of lips against his sent the ghosts skittering away, and he sighed with relief.

Storm pulled away first. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for more.”

Nathan hummed in agreement, reeling him back in. “Just keep kissing me.”

Storm obeyed, soft brushes of lips against his own that melted the last of the tension from his body. His eyes were dry and itchy, and closing them was a relief. The last thing he remembered was Storm’s mouth on his own, the scent of tobacco and soap in his nose.

* * *

Nightmares plagued his sleep. There, that bony hand didn’t disappear when the boy died. No, it tightened around Nathan’s wrist, strong as steel, and dragged him toward the gaping, bloody hole in the boy’s chest. Dragged him toward Hell itself. And why not? He’d killed someone. That was where murderers went, wasn’t it?

A hand on his face drew him from sleep, and he heard himself utter a sound in his throat as the dream faded away. He was pressed face-first against a solid—not bloody or broken—chest, and the events of last night came back to him in quick flashes. The attack, the body, the front yard, and Storm. Storm, who’d carried him inside. Storm, who’d helped him through the shower. Storm, who was holding him in his arms like Nathan was made for them.

“You were having a nightmare,” Storm whispered, threading his fingers into Nathan’s hair.

He turned his head, listening to the slow pulse of Storm’s heart. It was slower than a human heart-rate. One arm draped around Storm’s body, he traced the line of his spine up and down, framed by firm, relaxed muscle.

“I wish I knew what happened to you last night, sunshine,” he whispered, “but I won’t ask you to tell me.”

Nathan tipped his head back to look at him, awed by the raw concern he saw in Storm’s kind red eyes. He couldn’t deny that the connection between them was more than sex. Storm wouldn’t be here if that was all it was. How could Nathan fight something that felt so right? He didn’t know what would have happened if Storm hadn’t been there last night.

If he trusted anyone to hear the raw, unfiltered truth about what happened last night, it was Storm. He licked his lips, searching for the strength to put it into words. He’d likely have to tell this story more than once, but the first time would be the hardest. He’d rather give this one, the most emotional one, to Storm alone.

“Last night, we were on patrol near the college campus. We came across a possessed human who attacked us. During the scuffle, he tried to force me to ingest a pill capsule.” At Storm’s look of alarm, he added, “Don’t worry, I was able to spit it out. I gave it to our medical doctor to analyze. Anyway— mmph .”

Storm cut him off with a kiss, fingers clutching tightly in his hair. “Good, that’s good,” he said against Nathan’s lips. “Okay, sorry, continue.”

Nathan smiled, licking the taste of Storm from his lips. “Um. I… Where was I? Oh.” His face fell. “My partner called for backup, and between the four of us, we were able to hold him down and begin an exorcism.”

Storm shuddered but didn’t interrupt.

“But—he suddenly stopped fighting. The black in his eyes faded away, and then he was just a scared kid who had no idea what was happening to him, surrounded and pinned to the ground by four big guys with weapons.” His eyes burned, and he sniffled. “And then the demon started trying to break free. It was just like the footage I showed you. His chest broke open. A demon’s hand reached through the opening and grabbed me. There was…” He wiped the moisture from the corner of his eye. “There was too much trauma. I had no choice. The boy wasn’t quite dead, and the demon was too close. It was a mercy killing, I think, but it doesn’t change the facts. His blood is on my hands, one way or another.”

“No, Nate,” Storm said firmly. “His blood is on the possessor’s hands—or claws, or whatever they have. I’ve never actually seen one up close.” He shook himself. “It sounds like the boy was practically dead already when you ended things. You kept that demon from breaking free and ended someone’s suffering.”

“I killed a human being,” he whispered. “Isn’t that a sin?”

Storm softened. “Do you really think you’d go to Hell for that?”

“Wouldn’t I?”

Storm smiled softly. “No. And even if you did, I’d go down there and pull you back out. There’s no way I’m living on this earth without you now.”

That probably shouldn’t have been as reassuring as it was.

He pressed closer, reminded that they were both naked as Storm’s length prodded his thigh. “Thank you for being here last night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Collapsed into your own vomit, by the looks of it when I found you.” His tone was teasing, but there was very little mirth reflected in his gaze.

Nathan huffed halfheartedly. “I might’ve. I held it back for as long as I could.”

Storm kissed him suddenly, and anything else he might’ve said was forgotten in the slick slide of lips and tongue. All the promises he’d made to himself about keeping Storm at arm’s length were forgotten as the halfling rolled on top of him, urging his legs apart to make room for him between them. A bolt of heat went through him as he was reminded of the last time he’d been in this position.

Storm parted from him with a wet smack. “We’re not doing that this time,” he said, like he could read Nathan’s mind.

“We’re not?” He hated how disappointed he sounded to his own ears, and he knew Storm heard it, too, because he smirked.

“No. See, when you told me you’d never been with a man before, I didn’t stop to think about what that meant. I rushed right into the main event when I should’ve taken the time to build you up to it. And then I left you alone the next morning like a casual fuck.”

Nathan’s face bloomed with heat. He’d told himself that was for the best. Was it only yesterday he’d woken up alone and sore? He felt like a new person.

“What—What would you have done instead?” he asked, breathless.

Storm smiled, revealing the elusive dimple by the corner of his mouth, and then ducked his head, kissing a trail down Nathan’s neck and across his collarbone. “Taken my time with you,” he said, muffled against Nathan’s skin. “Kept you riding the edge until all you could say was my name. Made you feel things you never knew you could feel.”

Nathan squirmed restlessly. His cock was heavy with need between his legs, but Storm wouldn’t be rushed, teasing a path to one of his nipples and sucking it into his mouth. Nathan’s breath whooshed from his lungs, and his legs clamped hard around Storm’s sides, rutting up against the hard plane of his stomach as that wicked tongue flicked relentlessly over the hardened peak. He came off it with a hard, sucking pop , then moved to the other and gave it the same treatment.

On his way down Nathan’s stomach, he said, “Relax, sunshine. Focus on what you feel, and clear your mind of everything but the pleasure.”

Nathan consciously forced his body to relax, blowing out a breath and closing his eyes. He’d never trusted anyone like this before. He’d dated in the past, yes, but all of the women he’d taken to bed had been very vanilla, expecting him to do most of the work and that it would be good for him just by virtue of their being present. No one had ever lavished this sort of attention on him before, tracing his scars with their tongue and hungrily brushing every inch of Nathan’s skin with their hands, as though to lay claim to uncharted territory. They hadn’t been poor partners, per se, but they hadn’t relished touching him the way Storm obviously did.

When he closed his mouth around Nathan’s cock, Storm groaned out his enjoyment, like he’d been starving for the taste of him. He bobbed his head with languid ease, like he’d made himself comfortable and planned to stay there a while. This wasn’t the hasty foreplay Nathan was used to. He felt savored .

“Storm,” he moaned, carding his fingers through snow-white hair.

Strong hands held his thighs up and apart, and no amount of writhing would free him. Storm bobbed his head up and down, taking him all the way to the root, until Nathan began to feel that sticky, tingly heat building in his gut.

And then Storm released him, a firm grip wrapping around his base to hold off his release. Nathan bucked in frustration, digging his blunt nails into Storm’s shoulders.

“Relax,” Storm instructed. “I’ll get you there. Don’t be in such a rush.”

Nathan huffed, trying to obey as Storm licked and sucked around the base of his cock, burying his nose in the coarse hair there and inhaling like Nathan’s scent was more addictive than the cigarettes he smoked. He pushed Nathan’s knees toward his chest and worked his way further back, licking and sucking his balls until Nathan was shivery with need and then using the flat of his tongue to lick his crease from end to end.

“God, Storm,” Nathan whimpered.

Storm moaned. “Mm, love the way you taste, sunshine.” He kissed Nathan’s hole, his most intimate of places, and Nathan mewled, certain he was going to combust on the spot.

Storm gave him no quarter, licking and kissing and nibbling like he wanted to completely devour him. He speared his tongue into his entrance, and Nathan couldn’t mask his cry at the hot, slick burn. He rotated his hips, mindlessly searching for more.

“Lube,” Storm ordered, and Nathan craned his head to look at the bedside table. He could reach it if he stretched.

Storm peppered his thighs and hips with kisses as he grabbed the bottle, and as soon as it was within his grasp, Storm dragged him back into the middle of the bed, drawing a surprised laugh from Nathan.

“You were too far away,” Storm said with a grin. “Now, close your eyes.”

Nathan obeyed, tingling with awareness as he heard the bottle cap open with a snap. A moment later a slick hand enveloped his cock, using deep and slow strokes up and down his length. Nathan groaned, his hands twisting in the sheets. A slick finger teased his entrance, smearing lube around before pressing smoothly inside. The sound that left him this time was a higher pitch, downright wanton , and Nathan couldn’t find it in him to feel any embarrassment.

“That’s it, sunshine,” Storm murmured, kissing Nathan’s knee. “Just feel.”

And he did. Everything. Storm never increased the speed of his movements, guiding Nathan toward his release with slow, steady purpose. It didn’t matter how much Nathan whined or moaned or pleaded. Storm led him right to the brink, and when he was sweating and panting and delirious with need, he finally tipped him over the edge. A hoarse cry tore from him as he came in thick, white ropes across his own stomach.

Storm hummed smugly, milking Nathan’s cock of every last drop, until he was squirming with oversensitivity, and then ducked down, framing Nathan’s hips with elbows and licking his cum from his skin.

“Oh my God.” Nathan stared, transfixed.

Storm lapped up every drop, looking completely blissed out by the taste. He worked his way up Nathan’s body and sealed their mouths together, letting Nathan taste himself on Storm’s tongue. His weight shifted onto one elbow, and Nathan glanced down to watch him take himself in hand.

“Wait, no,” Nathan said, pushing Storm away and sitting up. His legs were still draped over Storm’s thighs, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the cock rising proudly from the nest of dark blond hair.

“What? What’s wrong?” Storm asked, glancing between their bodies like he would be able to see the issue. His hands smoothed up and down Nathan’s thighs, his erection forgotten. It was endearing, really, how he laser-focused on Nathan’s needs.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just… I want to touch you.” He’d never really touched another man like this. Last time they were together like this, it was frantic, and just like this time, Storm had spent most of it focused on Nathan. He hadn’t been given much of a chance to explore Storm in return, and he wanted to. He wanted to know what the weight of Storm’s cock felt like in his palm, wanted to know what he tasted like. How deep would Nathan be able to take him? Not as deep as Storm could, obviously. But he wanted to find out. “Is that okay?”

Storm smiled. “Of course that’s okay.”

Nathan met his eyes as he wrapped a hand around his length. Storm’s eyes rolled back at the touch, and Nathan felt more powerful than ever. “Tell me what you like. I want to make it good for you.”

“Fuck, sunshine, you’re always good for me.” He rocked into Nathan’s fist, tunneling his cock through his tight grip.

“Come on, give me details,” Nathan coaxed, passing his thumb over the pearl of precum beading at the end of his cock and smearing it down his length.

“Mm, fuck.” Storm’s big hands found their way to Nathan’s shoulders, gripping ever so gently for purchase. “I pretty much like it all. You can use your hand or your mouth. You can put a finger inside me. I like a little pain with my pleasure, so don’t worry about being too rough. That means you can use your teeth. You can skip the lube—although if you fuck me, that might hurt you . But really,” he guided Nathan’s face up and kissed him hard, “as long as it’s you, it’s already perfect.”

God, how was he supposed to respond to that? How could a demon be so wonderful to him? Storm seemed made for him. He could read Nathan better than anyone, knew exactly what he needed and wanted and provided it at all times, no matter how stubbornly Nathan tried to deny himself.

“Okay, lay back,” he said, shifting over so Storm could lay down. Once he was comfortably reclined, Nathan scooted back and hovered over his cock. It was a nice cock, long and thick—and uncut. Nathan wondered if that was an indicator of his age.

“All right, you’re making me self-conscious,” Storm teased.

Nathan cast him a smile. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About my dick?”

Nathan snorted out a laugh. “No! Well. Actually, yeah.”

Storm’s brows rose curiously.

Nathan grinned. “I’ll tell you later. I have something to do right now.”

Curling an arm behind his head, Storm settled back, cocking one knee out. He was the picture of relaxation, comfortable and confident in his nudity and inviting Nathan to look his fill. Nathan pulled the foreskin back to expose the plump head, surprised by how eager he was to taste another man’s cock. He leaned over it, trailing the flat of his tongue up the underside. Storm was warm and firm, his skin like silk layered over iron. He hummed at the first touch of Nathan’s tongue to his length, carding his fingers into Nathan’s short hair, gripping but not pulling.

Bobbing his head further and further down, he took Storm as deep as he could. When the head of his generous cock brushed the back of his throat, he backed off before his gag reflex could activate and found a comfortable rhythm, delighting in the salty taste of precum on the back of his tongue and the hypnotic slide of skin against skin. Best of all was Storm’s reaction, the way his abdomen flexed and his moans rose, uninhibited. It made Nathan feel talented, sexy, powerful.

It was over flatteringly quickly, and he caught Storm’s seed in his mouth, swallowing quickly so it wouldn’t leak out obscenely. Storm moaned as his cock jerked, a punched-out sound that filled Nathan with smugness. He did that.

He rose with a shit-eating grin, and Storm chuckled, snagging him under the arms and reeling him in.

“Get up here, sunshine.” When they were side by side, Storm thumbed his bottom lip and said, “How was that? Your smile says you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did. That was fun. I never would’ve tried that if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, you’re not trying it with anyone else .” He butted his forehead against Nathan’s, growling in a way that only made them both laugh.

“Hell no,” Nathan agreed, slinging an arm around Storm’s trunk-like waist. “Just you.”

“Good.” He paused, then said, “Now tell me what you were thinking about my dick.”

Nathan snorted. “All right, fine. It was just a passing curiosity, though.”

“Tell me anyway. I want to know everything about you.”

Nathan softened. He stroked a hand up and down Storm’s side. “Is this body the same as your human body before you went to Hell? Is this what you looked like as a human?”

Storm tilted his head. “I’m not sure. I don’t remember much about my human life. Cobbled streets and oil lamps. I think maybe I lived in London? I came back from Hell there, so I assume that’s where I died, at least. And I…”

“What?”

“I woke up in a grave,” Storm said, blinking. “I had to dig my way out.”

“God,” Nathan breathed. He couldn’t imagine how disorienting that must’ve been. “If you lived in London, where’d your accent go?”

Storm shrugged one shoulder. “I came over here in the… eighteen-hundreds. I guess it just faded after a while. I’ve been in the States for two hundred years now.”

Nathan hummed. “So what happened when you first came back to Earth? Did you know what had happened to you? Did you remember?”

“No, it was all pretty hazy. Hell, those first few years on Earth are hazy, too. Demons can sense each other, so somebody found me pretty quickly after I got out and explained what was happening. We do that much for each other, at least.”

“And the white hair?” Nathan asked, eyeing it cheekily.

“Maybe I was older when I died.” Storm chuckled. “I don’t really know. You’ll notice most halflings look relatively young. That’s because our healing factor keeps our bodies in peak shape. I assume that means that if one of us died elderly, we still come back looking like we did in our prime of life, because our cells regenerate to their healthiest point. As for the hair, most people think it’s colored, but this is exactly what I looked like when I came back. I actually colored it brown for a few decades in the early nineteen-hundreds, just so I blended in better. By the seventies, it didn’t matter so much anymore.”

Nathan boggled a bit at the realization Storm had been on Earth for so long. He was hundreds of years old. A part of him wondered what Storm had done to warrant going to Hell, but it didn’t sound like he remembered.

“What’s Hell like?” he asked, his voice small.

Storm smiled, nudged his head back, and kissed him soundly. “It’s Hell, sunshine. It’s probably not the fire and brimstone you think it is, but it’s not much fun. And we’re given a choice to become halflings. Don’t get me wrong, it hurts like—well, hell,” he snorted, as though the concept of damnation and eternal torture were amusing, “but it was worth it, because I got to come back to Earth. I got to meet you.”

Sparks of shock went down Nathan’s spine. “Meeting me was worth the pain of literal Hell?”

“Definitely. Don’t let it go to your head.” He kissed Nathan on the forehead, chuckling at his own joke, and Nathan smiled, hugging him tight.

Halflings weren’t evil. This one was proof that there was more to them than the paladins thought.