Chapter Ten

- Ravi -

You at home?

- Nate -

Sure am, having a lazy Saturday. What’s up, another job?

- Ravi -

Nope. Can I swing by?

It’s my turn to bring “stuff.”

- Nate -

Hmm, well I do love stuff. Okay, come over.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Nate’s door opens on his broad, welcoming grin. “Hey man, how’ve things been—whoa, what’s that?” Eyes wide behind wire-framed glasses, Nate steps aside.

Without a word, Ravi hefts a large, irregularly shaped bag in his arms, kicks off his shoes, and heads straight for the kitchen. Nate follows close behind. After setting the bag on the table, Ravi reclines against the kitchen counter, arms loosely folded. He can’t keep his mouth from crooking into a halfway smile.

“Open it.”

Nate eyes the bag, pushing the sleeves of his Henley up over his forearms. Nice arms, the roll of muscles underneath fabric suggesting casual strength. He looks freshly scrubbed, like he’d just stepped out of the shower, fair hair damp in the back. “When you said you were bringing stuff, I was expecting…I don’t know. Chicken wings, or something.”

“You guessed it, Doc, it’s a big bag of loose chicken wings.”

Nate laughs. “Only one way to find out, huh?” He rubs his hands together, waggles his brows, and unzips the bag. “What the… Is this…? Dude.” Nate pulls out a black carbon fiber compound bow, all sleek lines and coiled power. “This is beautiful.” Admiring, he handles the bow, testing its draw.

“Check the arrows.” He’s pretty proud of that detail.

Grinning ear to ear, Nate lays out the quiver, a full bouquet of arrows fletched in red and white. “Is there more to them than just looking awesome?”

Ravi slides an arrow from the quiver and taps the point against his forefinger. “Meteoric alloy tips. They’ll pack an extra punch against creatures weak to any metals, whether it’s iron, silver, or anything else. And…” He unzips a side pouch and pulls out a shatterproof vial. “Some basilisk venom. There was a bit left after the monks redrew the glyphs. Dip arrows in it, and you’ve got a paralytic that will last for days.” He sets it on the table with satisfaction. “Thought that since I was at the black market anyway, I might as well do some shopping.”

“Ravi… This is way too much.”

“I know you’re rusty, but I can help you brush up. You’ll be a better archer than me in no time. I haven’t picked up a bow in years.” Admittedly he learned it young, along with the other traditional martial weapons, and archery is a bit like riding a bike. He’s likely still good enough to train someone a little.

Nate rubs the back of his neck. “No, I meant this is…too much. This all must have been obscenely expensive.”

“Nate. There’s a diamond corpse in Constance’s basement.”

“Ha, I guess, yeah, it’s just…”

“Besides,” Ravi continues with a small smile. “This way you can finally stop jumping in front of monsters with that hockey stick. Keep some distance.”

“Oh, I see. This is actually a present for you, so you don’t have to keep pulling my ass out of the fire.”

“That’s fair,” Ravi admits, because it is one hundred percent true, “which is why I brought this too.” He digs a small brown bottle out of his pocket and holds it out. “I said I’d bring you some of the sandalwood. Use very sparingly. It’s not meant for…blonds.”

“Not calibrated for my delicate Caucasian follicles, I gotcha.” Nate snickers, unscrewing the cap to take a sniff. “Huh. It smells better on you.” He shrugs and sets it on the table. “Still nice though. Thanks. For all of this, Ravi, it’s super thoughtful. Thank you.”

A slow smile creeps across Ravi’s face as he tries to think of something to say. He comes up dry for a moment before settling on, “I’ve been sleeping better.”

“That’s great. You look it.” Nate rubs his ear, knocking askew the set of his glasses. He curses under his breath and plucks them off his face.

“Why do you do that? Take off your glasses.”

“They’re just for reading. Also, it’s, uh, vanity, I guess.”

“They look good.”

Nate’s blush is written across his fair skin as clear as day. If there’s a deception gene, he must have been born without one. Scrubbing his palms against his jeans, he clears his throat. “You want to maybe watch a movie? I bought you some hard cider instead of restocking the beer, guaranteed gluten-free. If you want.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Nate goes still, even his chest halting its rise and fall.

“You said you were interested,” Ravi says softly.

“I am,” Nate says, breathless.

Ravi takes a step closer. “I’ve still got to be careful. Harry’s position is precarious, and mine’s even worse.” All it will take is one rumor for his social stock to tank, for Trust hopefuls to flood Harry with marriage proposals, for backstabbing and infighting to give their hidden enemies a glaring weak spot to aim for.

“That’s okay,” Nate says, still standing frozen, as if Ravi were a wild animal who might be scared away into the brush.

Another step closer. “And I’m a lot of work. Even when I’m not…going through whatever all this bullshit is.”

Nate edges forward. “Don’t know who told you that about yourself, sunshine, but even if it’s true, that’s okay too.”

“And…” Ravi looks away, then wrenches his gaze back to Nate’s. “I’m not sure what Cayenne would do if they found out. I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Screw them and the clock they rode in on. If you want me, I’m right here.”

Ravi touches Nate’s cheek, grazing stubble so fine it’s nearly invisible under the overhead kitchen light. Nate swallows hard. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Doc. Running headlong into danger.”

“Look. About that. I know I’m just a regular guy here. I don’t have superpowers, I can’t do magic, and I wasn’t trained for battle. But I can’t see someone in trouble and not want to help.”

Ravi takes Nate’s face in both hands and kisses him, a rough surge that puts Nate’s back to the counter. A few metal utensils clatter off a shelf behind him.

He lets out a muffled noise of surprise, Nate’s hands grasping onto Ravi’s shoulders in a desperate bid for balance. There’s one brief, stunned second that feels like an eternity, but then Nate pulls him closer, kissing back, the hot slide of his tongue over the seam of Ravi’s lips stealing the breath right from his lungs.

“We don’t have to,” Nate gasps unsteadily against Ravi’s mouth. “You don’t owe me anything.”

Ravi lets his fingers card through Nate’s still-damp hair, breathing the bright, clean scent of his soap, like citrus and oakmoss. “This isn’t about that.”

Nate’s hands fist in Ravi’s shirt, reeling him closer. “If you need more time… You’ve been going through a lot…”

“Getting some mixed signals.” He leans in and nips Nate’s bottom lip.

At the touch of teeth, Nate makes a sound like he’s been punched, small and choked. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been a rebound bang before, and it was fine, but…you’re you.”

Ravi pulls back. Nate’s pupils are blown wide, blue irises darkening to cobalt, his lips invitingly wet and open.

“Nate.”

A visible shiver. “Yeah?”

“You think too much.”

Any hint of reticence dissolves as Ravi tugs Nate down, matching him beat for beat. He sucks hungrily on Ravi’s tongue, his long-fingered hands burning like hot coals at the small of Ravi’s back. Then Nate twines a thigh between his and leans in.

The pressure against Ravi’s hardening cock hits him like a freight train, heartbeat hammering in his ears. Nate cleaves tight, silently encouraging Ravi to start up a slow roll. Sheer want thrills through him, a sudden roar of it—after so long going without feeling like this, so long not letting himself feel like this, his desire blazes hot and newly forged.

“Fuck,” Ravi hisses. He falls out of the kiss to drop his forehead to Nate’s cheek, hips moving in a wanton grind.

Nate breathes hard, tongue running over kiss-bruised lips. “Please let me take you to bed so I can suck you off.”

The plea in Nate’s tone is almost enough to set him spiraling. Ravi groans, already too turned on to try to minimize his eagerness, to keep a veneer of cool. He wants. He wants, fiercely, a contradictory mess of things. He wants to slide down to his knees to swallow Nate whole; he wants those strong arms around him while he strokes them both off; wants to hold Nate face down and sink teeth into his shoulder while he buries himself hilt-deep inside; wants Nate’s gentle voice in his ear as Ravi sinks down onto him; and he can’t decide which he wants most. He wants all of it. He wants more, everything.

Ravi nods.

Afternoon light spills in to gild the bedroom, illuminating a potted fig tree by the window and cascading down a stack of colorfully page-marked books on the nightstand. Nate leads Ravi in, fingers interlaced, then kisses his way down Ravi’s neck, the sharp drag of stubble a delicious counterpoint to soft lips.

Nate works at Ravi’s shirtfront, buttons slipping from his fingers. “Couldn’t have worn something without buttons for once?” He ducks in for a quick kiss before fixing his concentration back on the shirt. “Do you even own a T-shirt?”

Ravi gusts a chuckle against Nate’s collarbone. “I own a couple.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it.” Nate finally pops open the last button. He pushes the shirt down Ravi’s arms, then exhales shakily, eyes roving. “You’re…gorgeous.” The reverent kiss he drags down Ravi’s breastbone feels like the first drink of water after days in the desert, and Ravi gasps, head spinning, letting himself be led backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed, and he sinks down onto the mattress.

Nate grins down at him, dimples flashing, and tears his Henley off over his head. “Still good? This okay?”

“Still good,” Ravi breathes. An unexpected scrolling of tattoos decorates the breadth of Nate’s upper body. “Impressive amount of ink for an academic.”

“Ha! That’s what everyone thinks. We bookish types are all secret freaks.” Laughter bubbles up between their lips as Nate kisses him, guiding him up the bed with the press of his mouth alone, until he has Ravi stretched out over the pillows underneath him. He looks down and licks his lips. “I’ll tell you about them later. Right now, I have a pretty dire need to get your dick in my mouth.”

Ravi’s lungs hitch, his arousal a hot, heady thing scattering higher thoughts to the wind. “Okay,” he manages, gaze glued to Nate’s mouth. He’s already so hard it hurts, and when Nate slides a hand over Ravi’s crotch and squeezes, need wells up in a desperate, overwhelming rush.

“Nate,” he pleads, voice gravel. He’s not going to last long at all.

“Yeah, sunshine, I got you,” Nate croons against Ravi’s stomach, tongue tracing the furry trail leading him south. Wasting no time, he unfastens Ravi’s pants and tugs down the waistband. His eyes go gratifyingly wide as he wraps a hand around the base of Ravi’s cock. “Well, hello,” he murmurs, and drags his tongue from root to tip.

Ravi’s hips shoot off the bed in a backward arch. Bedcovers creak under his grip, perilously close to tearing. “Fuck,” he hisses, blood rushing heavy in his ears. Feels like it’s been years instead of months since he’s been touched. Every inch of his skin feels like it’s just grown back after a burn, newly healed nerves sparking hot and eager, barreling his self-control to the ground.

Nate grins and slings a forearm over Ravi’s hips, pinning him to the mattress. “Squirmy,” he says with obvious approval. His eyes flutter shut as he teases the throbbing crown over his slick lips before taking Ravi into the searing heat of his mouth with an unselfconscious moan.

Choking off a sharp exclamation in Hindi, Ravi digs his heels into the mattress. Good thing Nate’s holding him down, because he can’t stop the buck of his hips, straining to get more of that perfect silken heat.

Sweat prickles along his scalp, his skin on fire. He gasps a warning. Nate flashes up a warm look, cheeks hollowed, and groans encouragement. The hand not pinning Ravi down slides lower, rolling tight balls along the cradle of Nate’s palm, and it’s—

Liquid heat floods Ravi’s veins, but instead of the pleasure drowning him, pulling him down, it lifts Ravi high, buoyant with it, crashing through one wave of ecstasy after another like the breaking of a dam, riding the swell with fists full of bedding and toes curling tight. Nate stays with him for every drop, the scorching slide of his tongue coaxing out shivers until Ravi collapses, every line of limb gone as loose as unspooled thread.

Kadavule. His ears are ringing.

Fighting for breath, he lifts his head to watch Nate plant a trail of soft kisses along the V of his hips. “What can I do? What do you want?”

The look Nate tips up makes air catch in Ravi’s throat. “So much,” he rasps; eyes glazed, aroused to distraction, his mouth well-used. It’s a good look on him.

Ravi rolls up to his knees, pulling Nate with him into a languid, satiated kiss. “Yeah? Tell me.”

“I’m easy.” Nate nibbles at the hinge of Ravi’s jaw. “You got any preferences?”

“No preferences. Whatever you want, I want to give you.”

“Jesus,” Nate mumbles into Ravi’s shoulder. “I should buy a lottery ticket. Do you like oral?”

“Yeah,” Ravi purrs, and pushes him flat. He sets his teeth to the flushed curve of Nate’s ear. “You want my mouth?”

Nate moans, going pliant, his legs falling open. “Yes. Please.”

There’s something compelling about how his scarred hands look against Nate’s illustrated skin, making him want to map Nate’s body, to thoroughly explore all that enticing geography, marking the cartography of his tattoos; but it’ll have to wait. All of Ravi’s considerable focus narrows down to a singular goal. Flicking a button, unzipping a fly, cupping Nate’s straining erection through cotton underwear, earning a softly uttered curse as he pulls him out and licks a long, slow stripe up. He lingers there a bit, enjoying the weight on his tongue, before testing some techniques, puzzling out what Nate likes best: a tease, a flutter, a spiraling suck.

Nate’s fingers are gentle in Ravi’s hair. “God, that’s good,” he groans. “Just like that, sunshine.”

Ravi fights back a shy flush, the endearment hitting him sweet and heavy. He takes Nate to the back of his throat, until his nose brushes Nate’s abdomen. Nate keens, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping still. His hand clenches involuntarily, giving Ravi’s hair a single sharp tug.

Fuck. Ravi goes molten and boneless, the sweet sting going right through him. He reaches up and curls his fingers tight around Nate’s and meets the blue of his eyes. Even someone without the professor’s exceptional vision should be able to read that clear of an invitation.

Ravi’s mind goes blissfully blank as Nate gets the hint and holds him in place to thrust into his offered throat with the perfect balance of almost-too-much and not-nearly-enough. Nate shouts, every muscle tense and quivering.

“Jesus, fuck—”

Ravi swallows, satisfaction curling through him.

Still grabbing his hair by the roots, Nate pulls him up the bed and into a breathless kiss. “Fuckin’ hell, Ravi. There anything you’re not good at?”

Goosebumps spread across Ravi’s skin. He turns his face to the side until he regains some composure, enough to cup Nate’s head in his hands and melt into a slow, exploring kiss.

He wants to say something back; maybe that he likes the way Nate kisses, or that he likes the way Nate talks to him, likes how he touches him, how he always asks permission. Every scrap of true pleasure Ravi has ever gotten, he’s had to work hard for, but everything about Nate is easy, simple, effortless. Like all this time, all Ravi had to do was ask.

But he’s no good with words.

*

“DO YOU THINK we can actually get our pants off now?” Nate murmurs, finding his way back to rational thought after a long, lazy eternity of losing himself in Ravi’s lips.

Shucking their remaining clothes gets a little silly, hands tangling in each other’s way more often than not, but soon they’re both naked, sprawled, and smiling. Nate shifts until Ravi is tucked along his side, slinging an arm across his shoulders.

“I really like you.” He’s still tingly from the force of his orgasm, but it’d be true even if he wasn’t, so Nate says it, tracing a thumb over a thin scar on the back of Ravi’s corded triceps.

Ravi is silent for a moment, but Nate can feel a smile smudging into his chest through the pleasant rasp of beard. “Like you too.”

“Glad to hear it.” He feathers a touch through Ravi’s hair, the diffused sunlight catching hints of blue. “The hair-pulling was okay? Seemed like you liked it.”

“That…was fine, yeah.”

“Uh-huh,” Nate says, grinning to himself. Fine. Ravi practically melted into a puddle. “We should probably talk a bit. About expectations.” Usually, Nate likes to do that before getting in bed with a potential lover, to make sure everyone’s on the same page. But Ravi’s enthusiasm had shut Nate’s brain down to the primal essentials—do not pass go, do not collect $200, go directly to blowjob.

“Expectations?”

“Yeah.” Nate stretches a little, basking under Ravi’s weight. Miles of burnished bronze with dozens of stories illustrated by scars; Nate wants to know all of him, wants to hear every tale. “You’re getting married and you’re in the closet, so that’s my expectations managed.”

Nate’s been with closeted guys (though that’s not his favorite) and also with people in open marriages (which kind of is), so neither prospect bothers him. Thinking as far ahead as the inevitable wedding might be getting a little bit ahead of himself. If Ravi only wants a friends-with-benefits situation, that’s…that’s okay too. Nate’s easy.

But he can’t deny he really hopes Ravi doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing. Either way, he’ll still be Ravi’s friend, isn’t going to make any demands of him. But nevertheless…Nate hopes.

“How about you? Your expectations?”

Ravi smooths a hand over Nate’s collarbone, his thumb sweeping across a nipple, which keeps the afterglow kindling nicely. “I don’t have any expectations.” He sounds slightly baffled, as if no one has ever asked him such a thing before.

“No preferences and no expectations, huh?” he says lightly. A combination that paints a picture of someone used to tiptoeing through encounters, leaving no footprints and staking no claims.

Ravi’s thumb pauses. He’s quiet for so long that Nate thinks he must be done with conversation, and is ready to let it go and doze for a bit when Ravi asks, his rich tones breathier than normal and threaded with hesitance, “When did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were…different.”

“Oh.” Nate angles his leg under Ravi’s knee to encourage him into a more full-bodied snuggle. Ravi gusts a breath in amusement and obliges, throwing a leg over Nate’s hips and wriggling in closer. “Hard to say,” Nate considers, brushing a knuckle over the shell of Ravi’s ear. “My interests are split down the middle. I kind of always knew? There wasn’t a defining moment. I had crushes on both girls and boys when I was a kid, didn’t really care which was which.” It took longer figuring out what he did care about; compassion, integrity, the sort of spark that makes a person unique.

Ravi nods slowly, as if in agreement. He traces the edge of a tattoo, one of the Celtic knotwork ones curving across Nate’s ribs, seemingly content to listen instead of talk.

“I was, let’s see, fifteen when I had my first girlfriend. Sixteen for my first boyfriend. My parents have always been supportive of us kids. They’re great. Even when Naomi went through her ill-advised goth phase.”

A moment passes in comfortable silence, Nate trailing figure-eights along Ravi’s spine.

“I was sixteen too,” Ravi says suddenly.

“Oh yeah? Wanna tell me about him?”

Ravi doesn’t speak for so long, Nate wonders if he’s fallen asleep. “Age customs are different on this side of the globe.” A pretty revealing non-answer. Nate just hopes he wasn’t someone in a position of authority, or a teacher.

“You don’t have to convince me, my guy. My whole career is based on not judging cultures through a narrow Western lens. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It was…good. I don’t want you to think that it was…” Ravi exhales, breath soft and warm over Nate’s heart. “All the men I saw back then were…nice. Safe. I was careful. It was…” He clears his throat. “I asked Robert out once.”

“Ooh, Bobby Hernandez? Very nice choice. How’d that go?”

“He said no.”

Grappling with that impossible concept takes Nate a minute. Next time he sees Bobby, he’s going to mercilessly give him shit for fumbling the opportunity. Honestly, he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it. Bobby seems like an intelligent guy, and he definitely has functional eyes.

“Mind me being curious?”

“I…no. Go ahead.”

“How’d you go from silver fox daddy type to the time twink?”

There’s a sharp bark of laughter as Ravi lifts his head to stare at Nate. “The time—fuck, Nate.” He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. Nate grins back, shameless. Making Ravi laugh is as good as getting a trophy. He settles back on Nate’s chest and snorts. “Baap re, please don’t go there with the daddy thing. That’s not… I don’t have a type. I’m used to working with limited options.”

Nate can imagine. He pets Ravi’s hair, skimming light over the soft skin of his neck. “Wish I could have given you some of mine.”

“Yeah. You’re lucky.”

“I know,” Nate says, very aware of his many privileges.

“My options did open up when I was stationed in London. Found out I like a lot of things. Not everything, but lots.”

“Except daddy stuff,” Nate laughs.

Again, Ravi snorts. “Yeah, that’s not for me.”

“Not my thing either, or any teacher-based roleplay. No thanks. Too close to home.”

Ravi’s touch flows from the knotwork tattoo to one above the jut of Nate’s pelvis, a speckled watercolor wolf wrought of fire. “Is this Leto?”

Warmth wells through Nate, that he remembered such a small detail. “No. Well, sort of.” He clears his throat and adopts his professorial lecture voice. “The Pact of Fire, a legend from the Sioux Nation, imagines the illustrative history of the domestication of wolves into the modern dog. The legend tells us that during a bitter winter the First Dog bargained with Man to keep her pups safe and fed by the fire, and in doing so her progeny and all their descendants would loyally serve Man as long as they were allowed a space by Man’s fire. If ever Man should mistreat Dog, then Man would be cursed with war and strife for all their days.” Nate traces over the tattoo fondly with his forefinger. “One of my favorite myths.”

“Are all your tattoos myths?” Ravi asks, propping his chin on layered hands. When his eyes catch the light, they are painted almost a deep, dark amber.

“Course they are,” Nate says, chest suddenly constricting at the sight before him. “It’s kind of my thing. Myths and stories. The ways people explain the universe around them.” He slides his thumb across Ravi’s cheekbone. An impish glint appears in Ravi’s eyes, and he catches Nate’s thumb in his mouth. Nate sucks in a breath and bites his lip. He manages to keep his voice steady. “You have any ink I haven’t seen yet?”

Ravi shakes his head, dark hair spilling invitingly down over his brows as he lets Nate’s thumb slip free from the tempting heat of his mouth. “No. Not allowed to.” He shifts his weight to stretch across Nate, peppering kisses to his chest and swiping his tongue over a nipple as he goes. Nate’s dick twitches with interest. “Maybe I’ll get one anyway,” Ravi says with a crooked smile. “I’ve already ditched the prohibition on alcohol, so why not the tattoo one as well.”

Nate jumps as Ravi’s teeth graze his throat, breath stuttering. “Mm. Got any ideas what you’ll get?”

“I… Maybe.” Ravi absently touches a curious set of faded claw-like scars over his solar plexus. “Someday I might.”

Both of his hands spread wide over Nate’s chest, like he’s trying to fit Nate’s whole frame in the palm of his hands. Be nice if he could. Amazing hands, beautiful and deadly like Ravi himself. These same hands Nate’s personally witnessed taking out monsters with efficient brutality are also capable of remarkable gentleness, caressing him as if he were some precious, breakable thing.

Then Ravi’s fingers curl and he scrapes his blunt nails down in a decidedly less-than-gentle manner. Nate bows up with a gasp, electricity sparking through him.

“You trying to seduce me or something, sunshine?”

The predatory gleam in Ravi’s half-mast eyes send a shiver up Nate’s spine, and he’s tugged into a hungry kiss, Ravi’s thick length pressing against his hip, gratifyingly hard and ready and Bobby, you missed your shot, dude.

Nate’s determined not to make the same mistake. He rolls Ravi underneath him and aims down an inviting smirk, pitching his voice rough.

“Wanna go again, gorgeous? How do you want it?”

Cobra-quick, Ravi yanks Nate down by his hair and licks searing hot into his mouth, a surprise strike, and flips Nate beneath him in a smooth, effortless display of martial ability that short-circuits his brain in one second flat.

Nate’s got maybe twenty pounds on Ravi, and he just got flipped like a fucking pancake. Jesus.

Beard catches on stubble as Ravi mouths along Nate’s jaw, then sinks a savage bite into the cords of his neck.

“Oh, fuck,” Nate whispers, every drop of blood in his veins rushing south. Instinctively he tips his head back, surrendering his throat. “Yeah, this definitely works for me. I usually top, but uh, okay, this is yes.” Very yes, all the yes.

Ravi pauses, head to the side, scanning Nate as if reading him for clues. “We can do that, if you want. It just seemed like you wanted—”

“Oh, I do, yes, absolutely, good instincts, this is…yeah, good.” His body is very on board, so hard he could hammer nails, his legs sprawling wantonly like they have minds of their own. “Wanna come on your cock.”

The black of Ravi’s pupils expands, his eyes going velvety dark. “Yeah?”

“Hell yeah, my guy. Fuck me already.” Nate grins and gives Ravi’s cock a few firm strokes. “Supplies are in the nightstand. Help yourself.”

Ravi groans, then flashes a scimitar smile. He darts forward to pull Nate’s bottom lip between his teeth as he takes the base of Nate’s cock in his calloused grip and aligns them both skin-to-skin.

“S’good,” Nate mutters, the praise wholly inadequate but all he can currently manage, lending his efforts to tighten the grip, entwining their fingers together. The view alone is spectacular, one he can already tell he’s going to vividly recall at inopportune moments, like during lectures or when he’s trying to concentrate on a grant proposal.

While Ravi stretches to open the drawer, Nate experiences a hazy second of disbelief. Did he dream this whole thing? Any minute he’s going to wake up alone with his dick in his hand.

But the way Ravi licks and nips and scratches down Nate’s flanks is a pretty convincing argument for reality, keeping him guessing, soft kisses one second and a harsh bite the next. Nate’s normally busy mind quiets under the sensory assault. Christ, Ravi’s really got his number. By the time he’s properly introduced to Ravi’s slick fingers, he has been reduced to a complete, writhing mess, flushed from head to toe, starving for more.

“Ravi—” What started as a plea ends up a challenge. “You gonna show me what you got today?”

Ravi gives a silk-throated growl. It’s not often a guy over six foot gets folded nearly in goddamn half, but Nate’s an immediate fan, helpfully tucking his hands under his thighs as Ravi pushes them up and open. Anticipation kicks his pulse jackhammer fast. It would feel like forever, waiting for Ravi to roll on a condom and thoroughly slick himself over, if Nate wasn’t so busy feasting his eyes on the sight. Finally, Ravi presses in, a torturously slow slide, sinking in inch by inch, sweat beading on his temples.

“Jesus.” The pleasure is already enough to send Nate’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, but it’s not nearly enough. He wriggles, trying to speed things along. How the fuck Ravi can stand to be so patient, Nate has no idea. He’s about to lose his mind.

“C’mon, I’m fine, give it to me, Ravi, please—”

Ravi exhales heavily and licks his lips. His voice is strained. “You sure?”

Nate’s voice isn’t much better. He clamps his legs around Ravi’s waist, pulling him in, driving him deeper. “Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

The knot of Ravi’s throat bobs, his eyes burning embers. Lean hips snap forward. Nate throws his head back with a grateful shout.

Then it’s kind of a blur for a while, writhing and grasping and bucking, brain off, cock weeping against his stomach, skin on fire with every thrust a fresh splash of kerosene. Nate has to yank Ravi down into a kiss or he’s pretty sure he’s going to die, enfolding his arms around sweat-sheened shoulders and crashing their mouths together until they have to untangle for air.

“Muhje vishwas nahi hota tum kitne perfect ho,” Ravi murmurs, hungry eyes roaming.

The way Ravi looks at him… Christ. All that unwavering focus, all that sleek, compact strength, devoted to fucking Nate senseless… It’s driving him crazy, desperation filling up nearly every corner of Nate’s awareness, leaving barely any room for his innate curiosity.

He rallies enough to ask, “What’s—fuck, right there, Jesus—what’s that mean?”

Ravi kisses the hollow of his throat, one hand steadily working Nate’s cock. He grins, a sudden bright flash of sunlight spilling through clouds. “I’m calling you handsome.”

“Look who’s fuckin’ talking. So good, yes, do that again—”

And Ravi pistons into Nate with a long, drawn-out grind, downstroke tightening on Nate’s leaking cock on every pass. He’s going to feel the ghost of this for days, and just the thought alone has Nate perilously close to the precipice.

But he wants Ravi there too, wants to give him back an equal measure of abandon, to do his fair share of the work. So Nate surges up, managing to roll on top while still keeping that perfect cock planted within him, sits back, and rides Ravi for all he’s worth.

“Kadavule,” Ravi breathes, barely audible, fingers digging into the meat of Nate’s thigh. He gazes up, eyes wide. His grip on Nate’s cock loses its unerring precision as the strokes go sweeter, less calculated. Nate grins. That’s more like it.

“Yeah, so good, Ravi, just what I wanted. Fucking perfect.”

Ravi makes a low, torn noise in his throat, his expression yearning, as if he’s starved for the sight of Nate falling apart—yeah, that look’s gonna do it.

Nate comes in a blinding, overwhelming rush, molten heat coursing through him and across Ravi’s sleek stomach. Through it, he forces his eyes to stay open, not about to miss the view. Ravi shudders and gasps like he’s been waiting for exactly this, like he needs to be claimed and marked, a willing canvas for Nate’s pleasure.

Every muscle taut and straining, Ravi arches up, chasing his own climax, and Nate honest-to-God whites out a little bit. When his brain is back online, he’s barely keeping himself up on shaky arms, head bowed close over Ravi’s.

Wow. And he’d thought Ravi had been gorgeous before. Dark eyes half-lidded with contentment, features compellingly lax, his rough edges all sanded away, wearing a faint smile Nate can’t help but echo. He covers the back of Ravi’s hands with his own, where they still clamp tight over his hips, and grinds down in a lazy circle. Ravi gasps, gaze snapping to Nate’s.

“Did so good,” Nate croons, because he’s observant, and besides that, he’s been around. If he looked up “praise kink” there’d probably be a picture of Ravi underneath.

Ravi’s teeth furrow deep into his lower lip, his whole face flushing a richer hue. He looks up at Nate through unreasonably thick lashes, a wordless request.

Who could deny that face? Certainly not Nate, with his delicate himbo heart. He makes an educated guess and kisses the praise into Ravi’s lips. “Good boy.”

Ravi slams his eyes shut as a full-bodied shiver races through him, and when they open they are nearly bottomless, a little glazed. His hands skate lightly over Nate’s gleaming skin, drifting as easily as leaves down a river.

Nate grins, places a kiss on Ravi’s temple, and heaves himself off to fetch a washcloth. He stumbles and laughs, legs unsteady as a newborn colt’s. He wobbles back, doing his best to clean up Ravi’s abs, after taking a moment to commit the sight to memory. Another one that’ll stick with him a long, long time.

“We’re gonna need a shower,” he decides, flopping back down to octopus around Ravi, head slotting under his chin. He’s deliciously fucked-out, loose-limbed with endorphins, and in the mood to cuddle.

Ravi looks like he is still floating in whatever fun headspace Nate got him in, so Nate drifts a bit while Ravi silently strokes his shoulders and his sweat-damp hair. It’s nice, even nicer than Nate had imagined—and obviously he’d imagined it. Not just the sex, but this part too. The part where he gets to see Ravi without a wall between them. Hell of a view.

“A…a shower would be nice,” Ravi eventually says, his octave somewhere near bedrock.

*

THE SHOWER IS intensely pleasurable, a hot balm cascading over him, unknotting Ravi’s shoulders for the first time in weeks. He tips his face up into the spray for an indulgent moment before stepping back to make room for Nate, shaking out his wet hair.

“So, are these all from different monster fights?” Nate traces a finger-long jagged line over Ravi’s flank as he steps under the water.

“Most of them. Some are from friendly fire.”

Nate whips his head around. “Friendly fire,” he mutters, blinking water out of his eyes.

Ravi shrugs. “It happens.”

“Jesus,” Nate grumbles, scrubbing through his hair. “What’s that one from?”

“Not friendly fire.”

He watches water sheet off Nate’s skin, the heat coloring in an enticing blush between tattoos. A full-back black ink tree compliments his proportions, growing from the dip of his spine to the crest of his broad shoulders. Tree roots trail down to a particularly exquisite ass. Ravi palms one firm cheek, pressing his face to the nape of Nate’s neck, licking salt from his skin where the shower hasn’t yet washed it away.

“Ghoul nest. The hunt went smoothly, until the end. My patrol took out about a dozen before the last one sprang out from behind a corner. Almost got me. It managed to land a slice before I shot it.” He pushes his half-hard length up against the swell of Nate’s ass.

“Dude, your pillow-talk needs work.” Nate turns around with a chuckle. “Well, look at you, sunshine. To be twenty-five again.” With a fiendishly arched eyebrow, Nate shoves Ravi against the tiles, teasing him with light, barely there touches.

“Hm, you do have almost a decade on me. You telling me that you can’t keep up, Doc?” Ravi clucks his tongue in mock sorrow.

Admittedly, Ravi’s libido is ramped higher than normal. He hasn’t even been able to touch himself since August, and Nate makes him feel safe—not just in body, but like Ravi is safe even with his own tumultuous thoughts. Nate had mentioned Cayenne in passing and it was…it was fine, astonishingly. It hadn’t sent Ravi into a spiral of guilt, grief, and betrayal. Just words, with no power to harm.

“You can’t goad me, I am very secure in my machismo, thank you very much.” Nate laps water from the divot of Ravi’s throat as his grip finally, mercifully, tightens. “Don’t worry, I got you.” He lays a forearm across Ravi’s chest, below the collarbone, pinning him firmly to the wall. Ravi looks down at the arm, then back up with a skeptically angled brow.

Nate laughs. “Oh, I’m under no illusions having the size advantage doesn’t mean a damn thing. You could still kick my ass into next week. Just thought you might like it.” Nate presses a smiling kiss to Ravi’s cheek as he jerks him with perfect, rapid strokes.

Ravi tests the restraint, leaning into it. He’s enjoyed tying guys up on the rare occasions he’s both been asked to and had the necessary time and space to do so, but he can’t bear it himself. Even if he hadn’t gone through all that escape training at the Manhattan branch, the thought of an ambush being sprung while Ravi is bound and helpless brings the sour taste of panic to the back of his tongue.

But being held down like this, when he can easily get out of it whenever he chooses… Instead of trapped, it makes him feel like he’s being held secure. Safe.

He relaxes, letting Nate take his full weight, thrusting into a fist deliciously slick with running water.

It doesn’t take more than two dozen strokes. He’s like a teenager again, barely in control as he comes with a sharp gasp. Nate kisses him through it, his pleased hum almost doing the job as much as his firm touch. As Ravi regains his breath, Nate gives him a sly smile. He lifts his hand and licks a slow, filthy stripe over his messy fingers. Ravi stares; if he hadn’t just come, this sight would have done it.

“That take the edge off, gorgeous?”

Ravi nods, palms flat on the shower tiles, not yet trusting himself to speak.

Nate nibbles at his earlobe and whispers, “You’re fun.”

Not a description ever attributed to Ravi before. He ducks his head to shield a shy smile, turning into the spray of the water to sluice off.

Nate drops a kiss into Ravi’s hair and draws back one side of the shower curtain. “Come out when you’re ready. I’m going to make us something to eat.” Nate gifts him another easy, honest smile, and leaves Ravi to finish up.

Ravi sags against the tiles, allowing himself a private moment to catch his breath, both physically and metaphorically.

Any intimacy Ravi’s ever had was won through strategically developed habits borne of necessity. He’s used to a long, coded dance of wary seduction; of making sure the other guy is interested, and more importantly, unable to hurt Ravi without hurting himself. Mutually assured destruction.

Then, when that was locked down, Ravi would take everything available while he still could. Get in and get out, before anyone gets caught. Cayenne was…an anomaly. A lot of easily transferable feelings still rattle around unfettered in Ravi’s broken heart, and it would be unfair to pin them on…someone else. And unwise. Ravi isn’t going to do that again, won’t willfully put himself into someone else’s crosshairs.

True to his word, Nate obtained some suitable bread since the last time Ravi visited and presents a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches into the bedroom along with a couple of hard ciders.

“I swear I can actually cook something besides dorm food, but this was quick and easy.”

“I’m not complaining,” Ravi assures him, biting into the melty sandwich with a sharp sound of surprise. “Is this brie? And a little slice of pear? I’ve never been in a dorm, but I doubt they cook like this.”

“Well,” Nate admits, cracking open both ciders, “I may have added a little bit of flair.” He stretches out on his side, plate on the duvet and bottle leaning up against his thigh. His cotton shirt displays a hatch-marked stone tablet with the caption Gotta Love a Man in Cuneiform! His sweatpants look well-worn and comfortable, Memorial University printed all down the sides. “Hard to impress a guy who no doubt grew up with a personal chef.”

Ravi snorts. Like Nate could feel any need to impress him. He takes another bite, brushing a stray crumb off borrowed plaid flannel pants. “It’s really good.”

“And you doubted my cooking skills.” Nate hands Ravi a drink. “So, you were talking about ghouls. Was that here in Atlanta?”

“No, in the UK. I was nineteen, fresh out of training, and still not used to working with a team. I was advancing ahead without backup. Not the brightest move.” The cider is good, dry and tart. “This is pretty nice. The cider. A lot better than beer.”

Nate pumps a triumphant fist. “Another one for the ‘yes’ column. We’re really making headway on that list.”

Biting down on a smile, Ravi asks, “What about you and your first experience with the supernatural?”

Nate grimaces. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me, Ravi, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Nate, every story I’ve ever told you about myself, you haven’t liked.”

“Okay, true, you’ve had some rough breaks, but I still want to hear them. I want to learn about you.”

Ravi’s ears grow warm, and he fixes his gaze down at the empty plate. “Yeah, well. Likewise.”

Instead of his usual wide grin, Nate’s smile is a sweet, small thing, almost bashful. “Point taken. Okay.” He finishes the last bite of his sandwich and takes a slug of cider.

“A few years ago, I moved back to Minnesota after grad school, before I started working here. I’d had a bad break-up and was drowning my sorrows at a local dive. This hot guy bought me a drink. We talked a bit, and he invited me back to his place. I don’t usually, uh, cruise, these days, but I was kind of in a shitty place, emotionally speaking, and was feeling reckless. And he was nice. Sweet, kind of. So we went to his place, and were making out pretty hot and heavy, and he asked if he could bite me. You, uh, may have noticed I’m a fan”—Nate slips Ravi a wink—“so, I said yes. And then the fangs came out and he bit my wrist.”

Ravi sits up very straight.

“I did say you wouldn’t like it,” Nate says mildly. “It felt…weird. Not bad exactly, but like painful good? Kind of like getting a tattoo. But I’m just… All I could think was, whoa, holy shit, an actual vampire. So, I started asking questions.”

“Questions? While you’re getting drained?”

“Yup. Like, is the folktale about vampires having a compulsion to count grains of rice really true? Do cameras work on them? How old is he? Asking what sort of history he’s seen, blah blah blah. And he started laughing. Apparently, that had never happened to him before.” Nate chuckles, tipping his cider back. “I’m naturally curious, I can’t help it. Anyway, after that, we saw each other occasionally and ended up being friends. Miles introduced me to some supernatural contacts and some friendly hunters he knew. I started consulting on things here and there, and that’s how I got into it. But I’ve learned more about the supernatural working with you guys than I have my entire time doing remote consulting. That’s fieldwork for ya.” He shrugs. “Hence, the tale of how I first faced the world of the weird.”

“You went alone into a room with a hungry vampire.”

Nate gives Ravi a fond roll of his eyes. “You’re so protective, Agent Abhiramnew. I did, and it was fine. I’m here, aren’t I?” His cavalier tone is offset by a comforting squeeze on Ravi’s wrist. “If it makes a difference, I know better now. I know what signs to look out for.”

Ravi scowls, thinking of Nate alone and unguarded with a creature who could easily kill him. But…it’s not like Ravi’s judgement is any better. He let a murderer fuck him, so who’s he to say?

He plucks at the edge of the label of his cider with a fingernail, not meeting Nate’s eyes. “And when did you learn to crush a monster’s head with a hockey stick?”

Nate grins. “Childhood. That’s a transferable skill. We ice-faring folks do not fuck around with our hockey. But before I joined up with you, I’d just been providing research and book-learnin’ to monster hunters who needed it, not thwacking anything besides the occasional puck.”

Ravi smiles a little, remembering the bookshelf picture of a younger Nate in skates holding up a trophy with his team.

Nate’s gaze tracks Ravi’s hands as they curl back the edge of the label. “Speaking of book-learnin’, I finished my report on demon princes before you texted. I’ll drop it off with Constance tomorrow.”

“Anything actionable?”

“Listen to you, Secret Agent Man. Actionable. So cute. There might be, but it’s all magic stuff. More her area of expertise.”

“That’ll be… She’ll be pleased. I know she’s really torn up about what she did, bringing Hartnell here. Putting all of us in danger.” Ravi looks away, twisting the bottle in his hands.

Nate’s face softens. “You okay, sunshine? And don’t give me the tired ‘I’m fine’ line. You can tell me if something is bothering you.” He smooths his thumb over Ravi’s hand, stilling its restless fidget. “Is it about Miles?”

“No.” Ravi sets his bottle aside and laces his fingers around Nate’s. “I…I know exactly how Constance feels. I brought trouble to all of you, to The Trust. Put everyone at risk. I’m trying my best to stay ahead of it, but if our luck runs out…I don’t know. This is all my fault, and I can’t figure out how to fix it.”

Nate regards Ravi for a thoughtful moment. “When you were a kid, back when everyone expected you’d grow up to be the next Chosen, were you told about the apocalypse-thwarting part of the deal?”

“Of course.”

“So…you were told pretty young that someday it was going to be your sole responsibility to save the world?”

“I… Yes.”

“Seems like way too much to put on a kid.”

Ravi is silent for a long moment. “It is,” he agrees, meeting Nate’s eyes.

Nate moves his plate out of the way and scoots closer. He caresses Ravi’s wrist. “None of what’s going on is your fault, Ravi. You didn’t turn The Trust into the bloated oligarchy it is today. You didn’t make Cayenne do any of the insane bullshit they are doing, did do, or will do. None of it is your fault. You are fixing it. It’s difficult and takes a long time, but you’re doing it anyway.” His knuckle traces Ravi’s jawline. “It’s inspiring. You should be proud of how far you’ve come with basically no info to go on, and proud of what you’re still going to accomplish.”

“But I did cause it, I—”

“Hey, hey.” Nate kneels up and takes Ravi’s face in his hands. “You were manip—” He cuts himself off sharply, closing his eyes on a flash of anger. He takes a deep breath and opens them again. “It’s not your fault.” He presses his lips to Ravi’s forehead, whether by happenstance or intent right at the point of the third eye where a vermillion tilak might mark good luck, or victory, or blessing.

Ravi takes a shaky breath, leaning into the touch. Several beats go by in silence.

“Do you ever think about how insane your life has become?”

“Pretty often, yeah. Though I think our baselines are different.”

Ravi ghosts a little laugh before bringing their foreheads together. It helps. Grounds him. “What’s the story behind the tree tattoo?”

“Change of subject, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

The warm rumble of Nate’s chuckle. “Sure thing, sunshine.” He steals a quick kiss before stretching out on his stomach, head pillowed on his arms.

Ravi traces the trunk of the tree over Nate’s spine. Goosebumps rise in his light-fingered wake.

“Yggdrasil,” Nate says, a bit breathlessly. “The World Tree. If you can’t tell, I’ve got a little Scandinavian heritage.”

“Nooo.”

“Sarcasm, wow. Harry’s a bad influence on you. Anyway, I originally wanted to get some cool Viking runes, but white supremacists ruined that. People see runes, they think you’re some bigoted asshole instead of a history nerd.” Nate sighs in frustration. “Fucking white supremacists.”

“Truly, their worst offense to date.”

Nate cackles a little, aiming a dimpled grin over his shoulder. “You’ve got a dark sense of humor. You and Harry are going to be such a scary power couple, I love it.” He settles back down flat, his voice shifting into the rolling cadence he adopts when telling stories. Ravi could listen to it for hours. “The Norse believed the tree of life connected the different worlds together, and it was inhabited by a myriad of fantastical creatures.”

“Is this a squirrel, here?”

“That’s Ratatoskr. He runs up and down Yggdrasil, carrying messages.”

“And these are…crows? Ravens. Ravens are a Norse thing, right?”

“Correct, gold star for you.”

A smile creeps unbidden onto Ravi’s face.

“Huginn and Muninn,” Nate continues, “Thought and Memory.”

“Which one is which?” He traces each black bird one by one, the skin under his touch visibly prickling.

“What, you can’t tell? It’s so obvious,” Nate teases. His shoulders shift slightly under Ravi’s feather-light touch, arching up like an affectionate cat. “I got those added on later, after the tree itself, when I got my sister her first tattoo as a graduation present. She got cold feet until I went first.”

“Which sister is this?” He’s looking forward to hearing another snippet of “exotic normalcy.”

“Natalie. The youngest.” Warmth carries on the low swell of Nate’s voice. “She’s studying to be a vet back home. Loves animals.”

Ravi stretches out alongside Nate, trying to imagine what it must have been like to grow up the way he had. Family is clearly important to him in a joyful, uncomplicated way that very much isn’t the case for Ravi; a thing purely of love and not just duty.

It must be nice.

“It must be hard. Being so far away from your family.”

“Sometimes,” Nate admits, a husky undercurrent in his voice. He looks at Ravi over the tangled sheets, eyes lambent blue. “We talk a lot, and text often, but yeah. It’s not the same.”

Ravi can’t look away. He wants to stay and hear the story behind every tattoo. But he’s probably already overstayed his welcome. Nate doubtless had all sorts of plans Ravi interrupted by inviting himself over. He ought to excuse himself before things get awkward, before Nate says he had a good time but needs to go about his day. Ravi clears his throat, pushing himself up.

But then Nate sits up with him, brushes a soft kiss to Ravi’s cheek, and asks, “Hey, wanna spend the night?”

“You’re…” Ravi can’t help but laugh, warming from the inside out. How is everything with him so easy? “Yeah. I’d like that.”