Chapter 7 Yes, Please
Yes, Please
We took the spacious SUV, which Eresh’s mother, Parvin, had legitimately rented like a law-abiding citizen who was bringing her daughter to look at potential colleges.
This was what she’d told the EMT who came for Blake, she explained.
One of her cousins was dating a student here, and they’d decided to spend the holidays visiting.
I cleared my throat. “You said the demon went back to… wherever they come from. Does that mean Blake will be okay?”
“He’ll be sick for a while,” Parvin said. “Both his body and his spirit. Does he have family to care for him?”
“I think they’re in Connecticut,” I dredged up from my memory.
“That’s not too bad,” she said. “We live in Rochester. He shouldn’t be moved yet, but we can stay for a few days, and when he’s more recovered, we can drive him home if he wishes. Does he have an apartment here?”
“I’m not sure.” They were being so generous to a stranger—a stranger who was a demon-accepting jerk—that I couldn’t do less. “My place is small, but you could camp out there for now. I’m cat-sitting for a friend, anyway.”
“Can we order pizza?” Eresh asked.
So that was how I ended up hosting my first family holiday gathering—a midnight pizza party with people I’d just met.
Siya was on the couch, where Parvin had put him to get his cut cleaned and stitched, with his bare legs resting in my lap “to keep the wound elevated” as Parvin had instructed.
I kept putting my hand on his knees and then removing it.
The third time, he trapped it under his own hand and held it there. I blushed, but no one commented.
Parvin had my only chair, and Yima and Eresh sat crosslegged on the floor. Parvin referred to them as “the kids,” although Yima was only a couple years younger than me and had a master’s degree in Translation Studies.
Siya nudged me. “This is my cousin whose poems I read to you.”
“Oh! I liked them a lot.”
Yima ducked his head. “Thanks. I’m just the translator.”
“He speaks like ten languages,” Eresh bragged.
“Seven,” Yima demurred. “And a half. Japanese isn’t going very quickly.”
Yima and I wandered off into a discussion of comparative linguistics.
Eresh borrowed my laptop and put on A Charlie Brown Christmas to watch while texting with one hand and eating pizza with the other.
Her mother was texting also. “I’ll tell your mother you’re still in one piece,” she told Siya.
Siya listened to everyone and carded my hair with his fingers.
When the pizza was gone and the ibuprofen had kicked in, Siya and I told the others good night.
As we left, I heard Eresh saying, “Since we’re in California, we can go to Disneyland!”
When Siya agreed to go to bed promptly, I assumed he was tired.
I crawled into bed next to Siya. His hands were on me immediately, followed by his mouth.
After a few highly distracting moments, I caught his wrist. His hand was warm on the curve of my ass. “Siya, you were just stabbed!”
“Only a little. I don’t need my leg to—”
“Siya! You have stitches. You need to keep still.”
He pouted.
How many more hours would we have together? The thought sent a sharp pain through my chest. “If you promise not to move, I’ll blow you.”
“All right,” he said, suddenly meek. “If you insist, Reason.”
“I insist.”
“Take your clothes off?”
I was only in boxers and a tee shirt. I could have squirmed out of them, but I remembered how he had asked yesterday to look at me and got out of bed to strip under his warm gaze.
Then I got back on the bed, putting my hands and knees on either side of Siya, straddling him without resting any weight on him. I bent my head and kissed him gently.
I kissed my way down his neck, traced his collarbone with my tongue, nosed between his pecs. Breathed in the scent of him, alive and only a little stabbed. Fuck, we could both have died tonight.
I bit him a little harder than I intended to. The sound he made was definitely pleasure, but I soothed the mark with my tongue anyway before moving to his nipple.
His fingers slipped into my hair, an encouraging touch that didn’t impede me as my mouth moved down his body.
I loved the salt taste of his body. I wanted to keep him.
When I reached his cock, I put a hand on his thigh, above the wound, so I could keep him still.
Then I swallowed him, desperate to leave a memory of him in my throat. For him to remember me as the best blow-job-after-demon-fighting he’d ever had. He’d remember me, right?
The idea that he’d forget me like I’d forgotten all my casual fucks made me want to cry.
I shoved the sudden strange sadness aside. Just some biochemical reaction to all the stress of the past two days.
Choking on Siya’s cock was a great distraction. I flattened my tongue and hollowed my cheeks, trying to take as much of his length as I could. But gently because under the scent of his body lingered the faint tang of blood.
I pressed my nose into his pubes and slurped ungracefully around his cock.
He moaned, and I felt the slight tensing of muscles under my hand, but his leg didn’t move.
I eased back enough to mumble “Good boy” around his cock.
His hand tightened in my hair. My name sounded like he was forcing it through clenched teeth.
I swirled my tongue around his head, took a deep breath, and sucked him back down.
There was a trace of bitterness mingling with the salt, now, and his pulse was thrumming.
I struggled to take him deeper, mouth full of saliva and eyes watering. I blinked the tears away so that I could watch him come, jaw clenched and teeth sinking into his lip as he filled my throat.
He relaxed all at once, muscles going loose and hand dropping from my head, eyes half closing.
I was the opposite of relaxed—hot and shaking with need.
“Come here,” he whispered, arm outstretched toward me.
I pushed myself up the bed and settled against him.
He wrapped the arm around me, pulling me into a kiss that was all tongue, chasing the taste of himself in my throat.
His other hand wrapped around my cock, and I came as soon as he stroked me, moaning into his mouth and spilling across his chest. Tremors shook me as he petted and kissed me through my orgasm.
I settled sleepily against him, face in his neck, wondering if there was a way to declare an imported demon hunter on my research budget. Subject specialist… personal consultant…
I was woken earlier than I wanted by Cancha sitting at the foot of the bed and chirping plaintively.
I’d expected Siya to be a light sleeper, what with the constant threat of demon attacks, but he didn’t stir as I got out of bed and gave the cat her breakfast, then set about making coffee.
I explored the kitchen while the coffee brewed. Cielo didn’t seem to be any better about buying groceries than I was, although she had more condiments and spices. I found a packet of chocolate sandwich cookies and used it as a tray to carry the mugs back to the bedroom.
Siya smiled sleepily at me when I returned.
“Hi,” I said. “How are you feeling?”
“Good. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” I chuckled. “I’m not the one who got clawed by a monster.”
“Oh, that.” He flexed his leg. “Not bad. Fit for action.”
My cock twitched at the implied offer, but I ignored the stupid thing and handed him a cup of coffee. “No action required, just keep resting so those cuts heal.”
A possibility occurred to me, and the coffee trembled in my cup. I hastily set it on the dresser. “Unless you’re leaving today?”
“No. Not today.” His gaze was intent. “I need to make sure there are no other dew in the area.”
It was clearly awful of me to hope that there were more demons to keep Siya in town longer, so I tried not to.
“I’ll be here for Christmas.”
Christmas. I’d forgotten about the holiday, as I tended to unless I went to a store and was reminded by the omnipresent music.
I should get Siya a present. Even if he didn’t celebrate Christmas. It could be a thank you gift for saving my life.
“Of course, you are under no obligation to spend more time with me once I have confirmed that the threat is ended,” Siya said stiffly.
“What?” Shit, I’d been woolgathering and hadn’t responded to his comment about Christmas.
“No, I want you to stay! For Christmas. For as long as you—” Shit, that sounded like I was asking him to live with me.
Why would he want to do that? I changed direction.
“I was just thinking that I need to go shopping. Grocery stores are closed on Christmas.”
I remembered the cookies and handed them to Siya. I curled up beside him in the bed.
“My cousins will be over in a couple hours,” he said. “We can have lunch, then go shopping.”
“Sorry there isn’t real food. Not that I’d know how to cook it. I’m pretty useless, as you’ve seen.”
Siya set the cookies and coffee aside with deliberation, then rolled over, bracketing me between his outspread arms.
“I can cook,” Siya said.
“What?” My blood had all rushed to my smaller head, and I struggled to get my brain back online. I dragged my eyes from his bare chest to his face. “Cook?”
“I thought we’d have more time,” Siya said.
“That I’d have more time to show you—” He broke off and raked his fingers through my hair, as careful as if there were something valuable to be gleaned from between the strands.
“I thought I’d have more time with you, Reas.
I want more time with you. I’m not just a killer.
I can make cabinets. I can cook. Let me show you. ”
My heart stuttered with hope. Was he saying what I thought he was saying?
I swallowed. “Siya, you're great in bed, and a good person, and you saved my life. You don't have to cook. You don’t have to—to do anything for me. If you want to stay—I want you to stay.”
He took my face in his hands. “I want to cook, Reason. I want you to feel taken care of, the way you make me feel.”
My eyes prickled. “I'm shit at it, though.” I sniffled.
“You want to; that's what matters. You make me feel wanted.”
“I do want you.” My voice cracked. This was insane. I’d known him for less than two days. I whispered, “I’m falling in love with you.”
His lips came down on mine, fierce but also soft. His fingers traced my cheek and brow as if he were memorizing my features.
We kissed for a long while, for once not rushed by exhaustion or the need to go fight demons. The weight of his body on mine made me hot and breathless.
He nipped my lower lip, and his hand trailed over my ribs and came to rest on my ass. He squeezed, and I groaned.
We were both hard. He began to rub himself against me, and a drop of precum ran down my shaft.
“Your leg,” I protested, weak with desire.
“It’s fine.” He cupped my cheek. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Believe me, this was just a large scratch. I’ve had much worse and survived.”
I felt my face scrunch in an unfamiliar expression. I’m pretty sure I pouted.
Siya grinned. “I’ll make love to you gently, I promise.”
I trembled. No one had ever said that to me, used this voice with me. I didn’t care whether he was rough or gentle, I just wanted… Siya.
Thankfully, he hadn’t paused to witness my tiny emotional crisis. His lips were mapping a path down my throat, where they traced a compass rose of heat along my collarbone.
He kissed my nipple, and I sighed shakily.
He sucked harder. I moaned and grasped his shoulders, enjoying the play of muscles under my palms. I pressed my flattened hands along his shoulder blades, half caress, half aesthetic appreciation.
The cool morning sun highlighted the play of shadows around the lines of his body. The muscles, but also the scars, each one a reminder of how easily we could have never met.
My fingertips fit a series of raised spots between his ribs, which must have been punctures made by claws.
I slid one hand up the back of his neck—there was a scar there too, a fine line—and carded my fingers into the hair at the nape so that I could urge him up, to where I could kiss him again, first his mouth and then the scarred places on his shoulders and chest.
“I want you inside me,” I murmured against his pec and felt his heart speed up.
He sprang out of bed, which gave me a chance to see that the bandages were still white, and also to admire the roundness of his ass.
He was back in a second with lube. He settled between my legs, kissing me again as he uncapped the lube and began to prep me, oh-so-slowly and gently.
A lot more slowly and gently than I needed, given how thoroughly he’d fucked me yesterday. I tried to rub my straining cock against the arm he had between my legs, but the angle wasn’t right.
“Siya,” I whined.
I felt his lips curve in a smile. “Soon,” he promised.
I fumbled for the lube, unwilling to turn my face away from him, and slicked my fingers.
He shuddered when my hand closed around his cock.
I stroked him, losing my rhythm as he teased my prostate. I felt like I was being licked by little tongues of flame. But still gently.
I writhed on his fingers, trying to make him give me more.
Instead, he pulled away.
I only had time for a short mewl of complaint before his hands were on my ass, lifting me so he could bury his cock in my ass.
My breath went out in a whoosh. That had been more sudden than I was expecting.
No complaints, though.
He fucked me hard and slow, pulling almost all the way out after each thrust for maximum friction.
“Please,” I moaned as he bottomed out for the hundredth time.
He finally sped up, sending sparks flying through me.
I wrapped my arms and legs around him, and the angle changed just so, and then I was crying out as I convulsed around him.
He came with me, going rigid and holding me in place as I bucked under him, sobbing with pleasure.
Then we lay, wrung out and wet, holding each other.
I pressed my lips to his ear, a kiss like a secret confession.
“I’m falling in love with you too, Reas,” he whispered. “Keep me a little longer.”
My heart constricted. As if I wanted to let him go.
“I’m defending my dissertation in February,” I said. “If you’re on a standard tourist visa, you could stay until then, and then we could… I mean if you wanted… whatever you want.”
His hand tightened.
“You do have a visa, right?” I asked, too relaxed to be alarmed. “You didn’t steal a plane?”
His grip relaxed, and he chuckled. “No, I didn’t steal a plane. I was actually planning to visit my cousins, so I already had a visa. I was literally at the airport when I got the message. Otherwise, they would have sent Yima.”
“I’m glad it was you,” I said.
“Me too.” He rolled onto his side, pulling me closer, squeezing as if there was any chance of me trying to get away. “It feels like fate.”
“Yeah.” I squeezed back. “Yes, it does.”
I hadn’t believed in fate, just like I hadn’t believed in demons or holidays. But it was Christmas, and for once I had received a gift. The only gift I needed.