Chapter 16 #2
Thankfully, they seemed to be near the end of the exhibit. They turned a corner and found an empty white room, but on the far side was a doorway—or at least, thick black curtains that presumably covered the exit. Lorenzo glanced at Charlie, who shrugged. They pushed past the curtain.
And they were inside the car crash from last night—everything, all of it, the starry night and fiery wreckage, the scent of blood and smoke in his nostrils, and the taste of Charlie’s skin on his—all of it contained inside an empty room.
Lorenzo stumbled backward, shocked. It was sort of like being inside his own memory, but at the same time seeing it from afar; like the way light warped through a crystal, it was real but not real at the same time, and it changed every time he blinked.
It was as weightless as an image projected on a wall, but it was still burning hot like the twisted metal of his car, and he could almost feel Charlie’s hands on him, the searing heat of Charlie’s skin.
And then they wandered through a second set of black curtains, and found themselves in another empty hallway at the rear of the crisp white gallery. “Oh my god,” Charlie wheezed.
A docent waved at them. “Thank you for coming!”
“What the hell was that?” Lorenzo demanded.
“Oh, our final exhibit—a one-second fully immersive sexual fantasy, pulled from your own subconscious,” he answered. “One of our senior spell-bringers put it together. What did you think?”
They didn’t attempt a response, and made their way swiftly out of the gallery.
Out on the sidewalk, Lorenzo gave the valet their ticket. Charlie didn’t meet his eye when he turned around. “Uh,” Lorenzo said, “this is awkward.”
“Yeah, I know,” Charlie said, sounding nervous. “And I didn’t—”
“No, we couldn’t have known they would re-create our memories from last night,” Lorenzo reassured him.
Charlie frowned. “Last night?”
“Yes?” Lorenzo took a step toward him. “In that room, it was—it was like last night.” He abruptly lowered his voice, because it felt like his words were suddenly touching Charlie somehow. “On my car,” he said softly. “Wasn’t it?”
Charlie licked his lips. “I saw the. Um,” he rasped. “At the vampire party. When we were upstairs. When you pretended to . . .”
Lorenzo waited dumbly for him to finish his sentence, but Charlie just stared up at him with a look of deepening conviction. Someone honked at them. His beige car was here.
“Can we go back to your place,” Charlie said neutrally.
“Mm-hmm,” Lorenzo managed. “Yes.”
The car ride was silent. Charlie got out when they parked.
“Want to come upstairs?” Lorenzo asked him.
“Mm-hmm,” Charlie said, following quickly as he opened the door. “Yes.”
They sprinted through a thankfully empty apartment up to Lorenzo’s room, slamming the door behind them.
Charlie had never been in his room before, but he didn’t seem curious about it at all; he just kissed Lorenzo like they’d been interrupted, and he was desperate to keep going.
Lorenzo kissed him back with more enthusiasm than finesse, fingers in his hair, and suddenly needed so many things at once.
Charlie laughed as Lorenzo pushed his jacket off his shoulders and then abandoned it to grab him around the waist and drop him onto the bed.
Lorenzo crawled over him and Charlie yanked his arms out of his jacket, running his hands over Lorenzo’s back and biting his jaw, panting and slurring out half words between kisses, his human heart beating so hard, so fast.
Lorenzo couldn’t stop touching him, couldn’t imagine that anything would ever feel better than this. Charlie tugged at his clothes vengefully and caught Lorenzo’s face for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, Charlie said, “I didn’t eat anything today.”
Lorenzo’s throat seized. “What?”
“Just in case,” Charlie said, blushing slightly. “If you want to.”
“But you—you came here and said it wasn’t . . . um . . .” It was hard to think straight with Charlie palming him through his pants. “That we shouldn’t.”
“I know,” Charlie panted. “I’m a fucking liar.” And he bit Lorenzo’s lip, hard.
Lorenzo snaked forward and bit Charlie’s neck—just with his square human teeth; a sharp but gentle nip.
Charlie went rigid, and his eyes were like pits as Lorenzo pulled back to peel his pants off.
Charlie shucked his shirt and then rolled onto his stomach.
Lorenzo’s vision went hazy for a minute at the sight of all that skin: the soft swell of his belly, his gorgeous, thick legs, the dips in his spine where sweat gleamed.
Charlie propped himself up on one knee and looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”
Lorenzo ended up draped over Charlie’s back, moving in small, careful, grinding motions that had Charlie gasping like he couldn’t breathe.
It was so good, just as hot as last night, but it wasn’t as frantic—he wasn’t blinking smoke out of his eyes or shaking with adrenaline.
Last night Charlie had been a balm against the acrid scent of bloodlust and his own pulsing fear, but tonight everything was Charlie—there was nothing but his scent under the sheets, nothing but the heat of his skin and the sounds he was making enveloping Lorenzo as warmly as the blankets.
And of course he thought about biting Charlie.
How could he not? He wasn’t going to, for a million different reasons; but he could make a home for himself in the crook of Charlie’s neck while they fucked, just kissing and nuzzling him there.
The scent of his soft skin was so comforting, the pulse of his blood, and so what if Lorenzo drooled into the pillow a little.
It was okay, while they were like this, to think about it; to fantasize about what it would be like if Lorenzo were brave enough to bite him.
Charlie gasped and Lorenzo thrust harder, trying to rattle every last sound out of him. “More,” Charlie said.
“This is enough,” Lorenzo grunted back.
Charlie reached up and grabbed his hair, grinding Lorenzo’s face into his neck. Lorenzo kissed him, sucking on his skin deeply, but didn’t pick up the pace.
“Fuck you,” Charlie hissed, and dug his nails into the back of Lorenzo’s neck, hard enough to draw blood. Lorenzo whimpered and came, crushing Charlie into the mattress.
When he recovered, he flipped Charlie over and sucked him off. They ended up sprawled diagonally halfway down the bed, staring up at the canopy, just starting to shiver as their sweat cooled.
And then Charlie said, “So I guess it’s a two-time thing.”
“It doesn’t feel like a two-time thing,” Lorenzo said, and winced immediately; he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
He’d just been telling the truth—now that this had happened again, he didn’t see himself mustering the willpower to stay away from Charlie.
His whole body was tingling, and he could feel a drunken grin trying to fight its way onto his face.
Charlie rolled over to look at him. “I guess it doesn’t,” he said, smiling softly. “Um. Maybe we could keep doing what we’ve been doing—you taking me around to supernatural stuff—and we could do this too.”
He crept closer until he was draped over Lorenzo’s chest, his heart pounding right there above Lorenzo’s still one. “You know,” he whispered, brushing their lips together. “Some extra . . . education.”
Lorenzo sat up a little. Is that what he was to Charlie? Education?
Is that what Lorenzo wanted to be to Charlie? Did he even know how to answer that question?
Charlie was biting his lip expectantly as he waited for Lorenzo to reply.
There was sweat on his forehead, and his cheeks were flushed pink.
He didn’t seem sultry or calculating; he looked like he’d had just as much fun as Lorenzo and was reaching for any excuse to do it again. It didn’t seem like he meant it.
But then again, Lorenzo had no idea if he could actually read Charlie or not.
Charlie tilted his head down and pressed small sucking kisses to Lorenzo’s chest, licking up the sweat there.
Lorenzo knew all the reasons not to do it; not to play some game with Charlie there was no way to win.
But when Charlie flicked a look up at Lorenzo through his eyelashes, he knew he was already lost.
“I suppose,” he said, “I did promise to teach you about supernatural-human relationships.”
“Yes, you did,” Charlie said, leaning forward to kiss him. “Lucky me.”