As Charles drove back to the hotel, Tenrael was quiet for several blocks. “They both have terrible dreams,” he finally announced.
Charles had no idea how Tenrael knew, but he believed him: Tenrael was the expert on nightmares. He replied, “Donne was a soldier in the last war. And Ferencz communicates with dead people. I think either of those things would be enough to make someone’s sleep uneasy.”
“Humans are remarkable. They are so mortal, so fragile, yet they can survive so much. And they can even find happiness afterward.”
Although Charles had never thought of it that way, he didn’t disagree. Ferencz and Donne certainly seemed happy despite everything that had happened and the obstacles life still threw in their way. Charles tasted that happiness, too, when he and Tenrael were alone in their cozy bungalow with the scent of the ocean wafting through open windows and the sounds of turning pages and gently rustling feathers filling the room. He could taste that joy, sweet as the jam Tenrael spread on Charles’s pancakes. Too bad it was so fleeting.
“I believe that Ferencz realized I am not human,” Tenrael said. “Nor are you. It does not distress him.”
“There’s a lot of that in the Bureau. You get used to it.”
“You told them we are lovers.”
“They’re queer too, so it wasn’t likely they’d throw a conniption.”
“But you admitted you care for me.”
Chagrin tasted bitter in Charles’s mouth. He pulled the car to the curb as soon as he was able, shifted into Park, and turned to face Tenrael. “I’m sorry. I’ve never said this, and I should have made it clear long ago. I am not ashamed to claim you as mine.”
Tenrael was wide-eyed. “Even when I look like what I truly am?”
“What you truly are is… someone beyond my wildest dreams.” Charles snorted at the small joke. “You know that big Hollywood sign? If I could, I’d replace it with one twice as big. Tenrael is mine, it would say. With flashing lights so everyone noticed it.”
“You truly want to be my master? Mine?”
Charles watched a streetcar rattle by as he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t a loquacious man, and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to sharing his feelings, perhaps because he’d had to hide them for so long. But it was likely he’d inherited a great deal of his nature from his mother, an intelligent and resourceful woman who raised a child on her own but who spoke very little. Charles knew she loved him; he’d always known that from the way she protected him and taught him, the way she always made sure he had what he needed even if it meant she went without. But as far as he could recall, she’d never said “I love you,” and she’d never said she was glad he’d come into her life. She’d never spoken about his father either. When she’d died quite suddenly from influenza, it left Charles destined to spend his adulthood carrying unanswered questions.
Charles’s mortal life was short, his job dangerous. Hell, human existence was dangerous. Soon enough he’d be dust and Tenrael would remain; Charles didn’t want Tenrael to spend eternity wondering how Charles had really felt.
He'd start with his baser nature; that was the easier part. “I think,” he said carefully, “I need to be your master. You’re strong enough to withstand me. If I didn’t have you… I’m not sure what I’d do. What I’d become. There’s this… icy thing inside my heart, and it’s dangerous. I don’t think a creature like me is meant to exist. I’m an abomination. You understand?”
Tenrael nodded solemnly. “I believe you are capable of harming others—perhaps more than the average human is. But I do not believe you are an abomination. I believe you are a wonder. A miracle.”
“You can bear the hurt I give, Ten, and so I need you.”
Tenrael gave a small smile. “I need you to hurt me. It is in my nature as well.”
“Yeah.” Charles blew out a long breath. Now on to the more complicated part. Gathering his thoughts, he watched an old woman, wearing an apron and with a scarf tied over her hair, sweeping the sidewalk. She gave their car an incurious glance as she worked her way past. She looked as if she’d been pushing that broom for decades and would never stop. He remembered the way his mother used to watch him while he played, her eyes full of emotions she would never express.
“I don’t just need you. I want you. And that’s something different. If that icy thing melts someday, if I no longer feel that push to… to cause pain, I’d still want you. With or without your wings and your horns. You specifically, of all the beings in the world.” He wouldn’t mention love because he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. But he could be honest about this much.
“Me,” Tenrael whispered, and then, “Master.”
Charles kissed him then. He couldn’t not kiss him any more than he could stop breathing. He had to taste Tenrael on his lips and tongue—the flavor of bitter oranges—and bury a hand in his thick, glossy hair. Had to nibble on his lip hard enough to draw blood, making Tenrael groan and clutch at him. Had to feel that powerful body trapped against his own.
But then Charles opened his eyes and saw, over Tenrael’s shoulder, a stout man stood very near the car window, glaring at them. Charles wasn’t worried about being arrested; his Bureau identification would protect him. But he didn’t want to make a spectacle. Besides, he and Tenrael had a very nice bed waiting for them in a fancy hotel room. He straightened up, jerked the shift lever into Drive, and pulled away from the curb fast enough to make the angry man jump back.
“You should eat,” Tenrael said as they made their way into the crowded St. Francis lobby.
“Later. I was thinking that tonight we’d go out and visit a few of the places on the list Donne and Ferencz gave us. I can have dinner then.”
“But for now?” Tenrael was grinning.
“I’m hungry for something else.”
The elevator seemed exceptionally slow.
After they entered their room, while Charles was still hanging up their coats, Tenrael started to laugh. Charles came up next to him at the small table near the window, where a glass bowl full of gold foil-wrapped chocolate coins had appeared during their absence. Tenrael read the accompanying card. “Happy Hanukkah and congratulations. Abe and Thomas.”
“I don’t celebrate Hanukkah.” Charles didn’t celebrate anything.
But Tenrael unwrapped one of the candies and placed it on Charles’s tongue, where the chocolate melted almost instantly. Charles was still savoring the creamy richness when Tenrael kissed him, slow and tender and sweet. “You taste good,” he said, leaning their foreheads together. “You’re sweet.”
Charles scoffed. “I am anything but sweet.”
“But you are.”
Even if Charles knew the compliment wasn’t true, it warmed him. He’d been given so few of them, especially by people he cared about. It was lovely to look into Tenrael’s eyes—brown rather than red right now—and know that he mattered to someone.
He took a step back and deepened his voice. “Strip.”
Between his eagerness to obey and his unfamiliarity with shirts, Tenrael managed to rip his as he took it off. But Charles didn’t care; the Bureau could pay to replace it. The City of Paris department store was right on the other side of Union Square, and as Charles recalled, they carried—
Tenrael slipped out of his trousers, and Charles abandoned all thoughts of shopping. So beautiful. But there was one more thing Tenrael needed to remove.
“Take off the ring,” Charles commanded.
Tenrael’s heavy cock, already half-erect, hardened completely. “Yes, Master.” Smiling, he set the ring beside the chocolates.
The transformation back to himself was almost instant: a shimmer in the air and then his wings and horns were back and his eyes glowed redder than flames. He stood with his legs slightly apart, his head bowed, his wings spread widely. And he was… maybe beautiful wasn’t the word. Demons were not pretty creatures, and although Tenrael’s face wasn’t as gnarled and twisted as most, his features were harsh, as if he’d been carved out of stone. A stranger might not have found him ugly, exactly, but he was never going to be offered modeling jobs.
But he had broad shoulders and thick muscles. His feathers and hair shone like faceted obsidian. Every inch of his body spoke of vitality, of strength, of power… and yet also of need. The many years of abuse he’d suffered had shattered him, and every one of those breaks showed as he stood there. But the cracks had been repaired, leaving him all the more remarkable. All the more desirable.
Tenrael was magnificent. Nobody would deny that. But as he lifted his head and settled his fiery gaze on Charles, and when his mouth curled into a wide smile, he was beautiful to Charles. Beautiful enough to make his head spin and his chest feel tight.
And Tenrael was his to have, to hold. To command.
Still fully clothed, Charles sat on the edge of the bed. “Stroke yourself.” His voice came out shockingly hoarse.
Tenrael obeyed, his movements unhurried and his eyes never changing their steady focus on Charles’s face. Apart from his hand, most of his body remained still—except his wings, which slowly fanned the air, wafting the scents of chocolate and salt air and sex toward Charles and the bed.
Sometimes at home, Charles used instruments on Tenrael: ropes, paddles, floggers. An extremely sharp pen knife. A burning candle. It was Tenrael himself who would suggest a new toy, his smile wicked. But Charles didn’t need any of those tangible items. There was much to be said for a firm tone and for the will to keep Tenrael waiting, perched on the edge as he was now but not given permission to leap.
Just watching was torture for Charles too, however, and eventually he crooked his finger. As soon as Tenrael was within reach, Charles grabbed his hips, tugged him close, and swallowed his cock. Tenrael’s choked cry was a bountiful reward.
Tenrael tasted bittersweet, like the salad greens Charles’s mother would douse with sugar water so he would eat them. Tenrael was a feast, and sometimes Charles wondered if he could live off the demon’s fluids entirely—his blood, his sweat, his spend—as if Charles were a very peculiar sort of vampire. Even better than the taste, however, were the sounds Tenrael made: heavy breaths, swallowed groans, long sighs, and when Charles scraped his teeth along sensitive flesh, whimpers and half-voiced encouragements.
Charles dug his nails into the skin of Tenrael’s ass, making him press back into the pain so Charles could catch his breath.
And then Charles needed more, so he jumped to his feet and attacked Tenrael’s nipples, alternately biting and sucking while Tenrael rutted against Charles’s belly and brushed feathers against Charles’s bare forearms.
“I am yours, Master. Whatever you need.” Tenrael added something in what might have been Swahili and then recited what sounded like a poem in… Korean?
Whatever I need. Suddenly, that meant skin against skin. Charles pushed Tenrael away, but only so he could slip out of his own clothing. Charles’s skin, always cool to the touch, was pearl-white no matter how much sun he got. Tenrael, who had excellent night vision, said Charles glowed in the darkness. Unlike Tenrael, Charles had a navel, but neither of them had any body hair, including whiskers. Charles was usually embarrassed by his oddities and by his frame, which was tall and bony. But not around Tenrael. With every look, every touch, Tenrael made it clear that he adored Charles just as he was.
Charles shoved Tenrael back onto the mattress and threw himself on top. All the better for licking and nibbling, for scratching, for making Tenrael writhe and buck and beg. Suffering like this, Tenrael was even more beautiful.
When Charles’s cock was so hard it hurt and he wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take, Tenrael gasped and bent his knees. “Fuck me, Master. Please.”
And Charles did. Suddenly, and without lube, because that way Tenrael would burn, and they both wanted that. Deeply enough for Charles to feel the heat from Tenrael’s core sinking into him, and hard enough to make the headboard thunk against the wall. Fast and vicious and, oh, so good.
Charles had slept with men before he met Tenrael. He’d even had brief relationships with a couple of them. They had been pleasant fellows, fun for a tumble and easily put off by vague lies about the two long pink scars on Charles’s back. But none of them were demons, and none of them were his. Charles had maintained close control of himself with those men. He could never be fully himself.
Not as he could with Tenrael.
He could tell that Ten was close to climaxing because he forgot himself a little and clawed at Charles’s back while moaning phrases in a dozen languages. Then he settled on a single English word: “Master. Master. Master.”
“Tenrael, come.”
And Tenrael did, with a roar that might have startled neighboring hotel guests. Not that Charles cared, especially since a few thrusts later he roared too as he fell apart in jagged bliss.
Afterwards, with the blankets pulled up around them, Tenrael curled against Charles’s back and tenderly kissed just below his nape. “Master.” This time he said it with a contented sigh.
“Ten.”
“Dinner?”
“Nap first.”
Tenrael snuggled closer. “All right.”
If someone put a gun to Charles’s head, he might admit that this—the sleepy cuddling in the aftermath—was as good as the sex.
“Charles?” Although Charles had nearly dozed off, he became alert at Tenrael’s rare use of his name. “I need you too. You know that, yes?”
“Yes.”
Maybe his reply lacked conviction, because Tenrael squeezed him tightly. “I do. After you freed me from that carnival, I could have gone anywhere. Except I could not. I was too damaged.”
“Those fuckers.” They’d been entirely human, motivated by greed and lust and cruelty. Even before then Charles had known that no demon, no vampire, no other uncanny creature had as much capacity for harm as did Homo sapiens.
“Shh. They are not important. I flew from where they held me, and I hid far away. I was like a wounded rabbit cowering in its burrow. I did not think I would have the strength to emerge. I had once been so proud, but I had become nothing. Those men had stolen something vital from me, and they had destroyed it.”
“Ten—”
“Hush. This tale has a happy ending, my mitting. Because as I hid, I gradually realized that whatever they had taken from me had been replaced with something new. Something… soft and fine and cool. Like silk against overheated skin. Something that soothed. And I realized it came from you.”
Still wrapped in Tenrael’s arms, Charles huffed. “I have nothing like that to give.”
“You are wrong, my heart’s gleam.”
Secretly pleased with the endearments, Charles shook his head. “I spent very little time with you at that carnival. I jerked you off and burned away the spell that bound you, and that’s all.”
“That is all,” Tenrael parroted with a small laugh. “You spoke to me as a person. You were gentle with me. And you set me free. It was as if you planted a seed within me and it grew within that emptied space. I do not know what fruit that seed bore, but it was nothing of my nature—nothing demonic. It was… good.”
“I’m not good,” Charles insisted.
“You are not perfect, but you are very good. In my burrow I knew that, left to myself, I could not survive. I needed you. You see? Very much as you need me.”
Now Charles sighed because he did see, and he was sad that Tenrael had ended up with him. What if the Chief had sent someone better to Kansas to investigate the reports of the captured demon? What if he’d sent Ferencz and Donne, for example, or Sam Leonard, or any of the other agents who lacked Charles’s icy spark? Wouldn’t that have turned out better for Tenrael? Even if it would have left Charles with a void in his life. Selfishly, he was glad the void had been filled.
“Fine,” he said. “We need each other.”
“It is more than that. I want to need you. I… I do not know if I am capable of love. Demons generally are not. Yet you have changed me, so perhaps…. Well, I do not know. I do not know what love feels like. But I know that when I left my hiding spot, I sought you specifically. Of all the beings in the world. No other soul would have sufficed. And I would give anything—my eyes, my voice, my wings—to remain with you. I could forsake everything but you.”
Charles didn’t know either if that was love. He’d had very little personal experience with the emotion. But he knew Tenrael’s words warmed him and smoothed the shards within him, and that was very good indeed.
He brought Tenrael’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Sleep. We have work to do tonight.”