8. Malachi
Chapter 8
Malachi
Malachi took a drag of his cigarette. The dying, molten light of the sun haloed the apartment building before him, casting the parking lot where he sat in shadow. The end of their dinner last night notwithstanding, he thought things had gone very well with Luke, who obviously liked him more than he let on. Malachi was going to press that weakness until Luke bent. He would have his human in due time.
Luke was home. He’d seen him arrive and go inside, his shoulders slumped as though the day had stolen the steel from his spine. When he thought sufficient time had passed—enough time for Luke to go in and do whatever humans did when they were alone, like showering or eating—he plucked the styrofoam container from his passenger seat and made his way up the echoing staircase, following the unfathomable pull of Luke’s aura.
Outside Luke’s apartment, he paused, sensing wards on the threshold. The heavy, metal-plated apartment door had the same deep green paint as all the others in the hall, with a brass 34 below the shiny peephole. In theory, he could have picked the lock or even forced the door open, but there was no way in with the wards in place. He would have to knock, and Luke would have to invite him in. This would be the moment that decided whether Luke would allow him into his life. It would be far too easy to refuse Malachi entrance and order him away. If he did, there was nothing Malachi could do about it. Sure, he would continue to follow Luke from afar. He wouldn’t be able to resist. But they wouldn’t be together .
With a fortifying breath, he knocked on the door, standing in full view of the peephole so Luke would know exactly who he was. He wanted Luke, and he wanted Luke to want him . He couldn’t force that to happen. Luke had to accept him.
Faint shuffling, like bare feet on carpet, drew his attention. Luke was right on the other side, probably looking through the peephole at him. Malachi held his breath, his fingers pressing just hard enough into the styrofoam to bend it.
Would Luke let him in? Or would Malachi spend another lonely night at the bar, wishing things were different?
The lock clicked, and the door opened slowly.
This might be his favorite version of Luke yet, barefoot and wearing soft plaid pajama pants. He was shirtless, his red-toned skin browned by the sun, his short hair askew. Dark hair peppered his chest and trailed down his stomach, the relaxed muscles of which flexed on every inhale. There was a pillow crease on the side of his face. His whiskey brown eyes were wide and confused, making him look soft and vulnerable, and it took everything Malachi had not to reach for him .
“Malachi?” he rasped sleepily. “What are you doing here?”
Malachi checked his watch. “It’s not even eight, sweetheart. Did I wake you?”
“Um.” He pushed his fingers through his hair, sending it into even further disarray. “Maybe. I had a long day.”
“Oh.” Maybe he wouldn’t want Malachi to stay, then. He’d noticed the defeated curl of his shoulders earlier. Perhaps he should’ve tried his luck another night.
“How do you know where I—no, never mind, I don’t know why I asked,” Luke said.
Malachi smiled, hoping it looked charming and roguish. “Can I come in?”
Luke’s chest rose with a breath, and his mouth opened—but nothing came out.
Malachi waited. He could be patient. So patient, especially with Luke looking so delectable, so soft and inviting.
While he debated with himself, Luke’s gaze fell to the styrofoam box in his hands. “What’s that? Is that your takeout box from the diner?”
“Yeah, it’s for you.”
“For me.”
Malachi blinked at him. “Yeah. I ordered it for you. You ran out before I could give it to you. I was just returning it.”
“No, you ordered it for you . You just didn’t eat it.”
Malachi rolled his eyes. “No, I ordered an exact copy of what you ordered so you’d have an extra meal to take home.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
Luke couldn’t hide the shiver that rolled through him, and Malachi dared to hope. Had the chink in his armor widened enough for him to weasel through? Once he was in, Luke was never getting rid of him.
Licking his lips as though his mouth was dry, Luke stepped back and breathed, “Come in, Malachi.”
Malachi barely dared to breathe as he stepped across the threshold, feeling the shimmer of power as the wards parted like a curtain to let him pass.
His apartment was modest, a small living room on the right, a kitchen with a breakfast bar on the left, and the bedroom through a door beyond the kitchen. The whole apartment smelled like tap water and soap, cedar and citrus, like he’d showered recently and the scent had wafted through the entire place.
“Hungry?” Malachi asked, but he was already opening the container and putting the burger in the microwave. He dumped the fries in the air fryer to crisp them back up, and Luke hovered by the fridge, fidgeting as though he didn’t know what to do with himself. When was the last time he had someone in his apartment, taking care of him?
“What if I don’t want to be?” Luke croaked suddenly, his whiskey brown eyes wide and pleading.
Malachi turned to face him. “Don’t want to be what?”
“Yours.”
Patient, he would be patient. Luke would be his in increments, if only he took his time, and one day he’d be his completely. “Do you want me to leave?” he asked softly. “Say the word and I’ll go.”
Luke looked lost. “No,” he said plaintively. “I don’t. And that scares me. Letting you be here is risking everything for me, so why don’t I want you to go?”
The microwave beeped, but neither of them paid it any mind .
“I thought Talon was an idiot,” he declared. “What kind of dumbass goes and latches on to a paladin of all people? Humans throw themselves at us every night at In Extremis. I find it tedious, but if he wanted human companionship, there are plenty to choose from that aren’t trying to kill us. What made that one so special? I didn’t get it—until I saw you. Ever since then, nobody else compares. It’s like the rest of the world has gone dark and you’re all I can see. I don’t think there are any prettier humans than you. I don’t think there are any stronger ones or smarter ones or better ones. You’re all I can think about. It doesn’t matter if you don’t want me. I’ll be your shadow until the day you die, because everything else is just noise.”
Luke’s eyes were glassy. “You’re a demon.”
“Yes,” Malachi said regretfully. “I don’t imagine you would be putting up such a fuss if I weren’t. But I also wouldn’t be here at all if I weren’t. I died centuries ago, I think, and not meeting you would’ve been the greatest regret of my short, stupid little life.”
“How do I know this isn’t some trick?” He sniffed hard, and Malachi softened. For how long had he been agonizing over this? Malachi never meant to cause him pain.
“Luke.” He stepped closer, until Luke’s back was to the stainless steel fridge and their bodies were lined up, not quite touching. “Set aside what you’ve been told by the guild for a moment, if you can. Close your eyes.”
With a shuddery sigh, Luke obeyed, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He was a hair taller than Malachi, but barefoot while Malachi had shoes on, they were eye to eye. Finally, Malachi let himself put his hands on Luke’s body. He flattened his hands against Luke’s hairy chest, biting his lip to silence his own cascading pleasure at the warmth of Luke’s skin. He slid them slowly up, over the divots of his collarbones, the column of his neck, to cradle his face.
“Does anything about this really feel wrong? Setting aside what I am, have I done anything at any time to make you doubt my sincerity? Made you feel uncomfortable or unsafe?”
Luke’s brows furrowed, and Malachi stroked his cheeks with both thumbs.
He expected to be rebuffed again, but instead Luke’s clenched fists relaxed, reaching blindly for Malachi and sliding under his black T-shirt to grip his waist. He reeled him in, bringing their bodies flush, and kissed him.
One of Malachi’s hands slid around to the back of his head, fingers gripping hard and possessive, but the other remained gentle, stroking the undamaged side of his face—the side Malachi knew he could feel. Luke kissed like he was starving for it, open-mouthed and desperate. Malachi met him with equal fervor, slipping his tongue past Luke’s lips and greedily swallowing his quiet moan. He could get drunk off that sound alone.
When Luke was gasping, Malachi finally tore his mouth away to let him catch his breath, trailing kisses down the side of his neck. He longed to bite, to make his mark, but this was good. This was enough. He had Luke in his arms, Luke’s taste on his tongue, and nothing else mattered.
“No, no,” Luke groaned, fingers tangling in Malachi’s hair.
Aggravation flooded him. He was so close . “I swear to your fucking god , if you tell me to stop?—”
“No, just not that side. I want to feel you, and I can’t feel you there,” Luke said, tugging him over to the other side of his neck .
“Oh thank fuck.” He switched sides, rewarding Luke with a scraping bite that had the man keening under him.
“Wait, wait, no.”
A hand slapped against the fridge behind Luke’s head. “ Luke, for fuck’s sake ?—”
“Just don’t leave a mark where anyone can see .”
“Right, right.” He leaned back to study his work so far. He didn’t think that bite would leave a mark. The reddened skin was already fading.
“Did you?” Luke asked, his brows raised as though waiting.
“No.”
“Good. Come here.” His big hands guided Malachi’s head in for another searing kiss. Malachi wanted to melt into him, sink in and never come back out.
The air fryer beeped, and Malachi parted from him with a groan. “The fucking food’s done.”
“Just leave it. It’ll be fine there.”
Malachi didn’t have to be told twice. His hands fell to Luke’s hips, dragging their bodies together. Luke’s hardness was obvious in his soft bottoms. He wanted to pick Luke up, wrap those powerful legs around his waist and thrust to his heart’s content.
“Let’s go somewhere horizontal,” he suggested between slick kisses. “Couch, bed, floor. I don’t care.”
Luke chuckled. They walked in a tangle of limbs to the sofa and collapsed onto it, Malachi cradled between Luke’s muscular thighs. Luke’s pajama pants were tented, and Malachi ducked his head, kissing a hot line down Luke’s chest. His hair trailed like black ribbons in his wake, and Luke’s fingers tangled in it, oh so gently.
“Can I taste you?” he asked, nipping and sucking a constellation of marks into his sun-kissed skin. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”
“ Yes ,” Luke moaned.
Malachi made quick work of his pants and boxers, tossing both somewhere over his shoulder. Luke’s naked body was as glorious as he’d always imagined. Laid out like a feast in the dying sunlight streaming through the window above the sofa, his legs spread invitingly and his gaze on Malachi and only Malachi. He didn’t even care that the sunlight was uncomfortably bright, pricking against his skin. Luke looked too beautiful in it to move away.
“ Fuck , I want to—” He squeezed his hands into fists so hard his rings bruised his fingers. He couldn’t say what he wanted to do. Things with Luke were so precarious. He couldn’t risk scaring him away.
“Tell me,” Luke rasped.
“No. You won’t understand.”
“Tell me anyway. Make me understand.”
Malachi clenched his jaw. “Like you said. I’m a demon.”
“Yes, I’m well aware. And? Come here.” He sat up, grabbing the hem of Malachi’s shirt and lifting it overhead. “Tell me. You are a demon. I’m not hiding from that. Tell me all your sordid thoughts.”
Malachi laughed, but it was a bitter thing. “I want to tear you apart. I want to sink my teeth in and never let go. I want to carve my name into your skin so everyone knows who you belong to. I want to gorge myself on your cock and your blood. I want to stalk you and pin you down and fill you with my cum, want to tie you to the bed and make you scream my name until your voice goes out.”
Luke’s eyes went a little wide, but he wasn’t pushing Malachi away. In fact, his cock jerked between them .
“Some of that was a turn-on,” he admitted bluntly. “Some of it I’m pretty sure will be a no.”
Malachi snorted. “That’s the thing, sweetheart. I may be a demon, and I may want those things, but keeping you happy is my priority. If you don’t want it, I won’t do it.”
Luke looked doubtful. “Keeping me happy is your priority?”
“Yes,” Malachi said, leaning in, grazing Luke’s lips with his own. “If you’re happy, you’re more likely to let me stay.”
Luke softened. “That’s really all you want?”
“Yes. Just you.” He sealed their mouths together, hot and needy.
Luke tangled his fingers in Malachi’s hair as they parted, like he didn’t want him to go far. “As for the other stuff. I might be… willing to compromise on some things. Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”
“Yes.” He pushed Luke back down. “Right now, I want to suck you off. Nice and vanilla.”
He laughed breathlessly. “I’ll never say no to that .”
His legs were splayed over Malachi’s lap, and he pushed them up and apart, baring Luke’s most intimate places to the sunlight. Luke squirmed, but his cock gave another interested twitch. He liked this a lot; Malachi could scarcely believe this was really happening. Finally, after weeks of watching, he was allowed to touch, to taste .
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Malachi growled, leaning in to mouth wet kisses up his thick shaft.
He’d waited too long to waste time teasing, so he sucked him down right away, loving the punched-out moan that left Luke’s mouth. He tasted like clean skin, the tip bitter with precum already. Malachi moaned, knowing he was the one who’d drawn that taste from him. His hands roamed as he bobbed his head, exploring the long plane of Luke’s muscular thighs, his hips, his sides and stomach.
“Mal,” Luke moaned, rocking up into the heat of his mouth. His legs spread wide, and Malachi took it as an invitation, slipping his thumb down to circle his entrance. Luke’s breath caught in his chest, but he didn’t say no. “Mal, please.”
Malachi hummed, taking him down to the root and sucking hard as he pressed his thumb inside. They had no lube, and he didn’t want to part from Luke long enough to go in search of some. Luke didn’t seem to mind, a hoarse sound leaving his throat. He focused on bobbing his head, until Luke was canting his hips up, helpless little “ ah, ah, ah ” sounds spilling from his lips. He was beautiful, his abdomen flexing as he pressed himself deeper down Malachi’s throat. Fingers tangled in his hair, and Malachi raised a hand to cover his, urging Luke to guide his head the way he wanted it. An agonized groan left Luke as he guided Malachi’s head up and down, fucking himself with his mouth.
“I’m—I’m?—”
Luke’s urgent rhythm faltered, his thighs quivering, and Malachi’s low, possessive growl vibrated his chest as salty seed filled his throat. He swallowed automatically, drinking every drop. He fully intended to stay there until Luke was soft on his tongue, but the man snagged him under the arms and sat up, crashing their mouths together and licking into Malachi’s mouth like he was eager for a taste of himself on Malachi’s tongue.
Big fingers scrambled to undo Malachi’s belt and jeans, then a hand slipped inside and wrapped around his length, moving slow and soft at first but then firming his grip and stripping him faster. Malachi sucked in a sharp breath, gripping Luke’s shoulders tightly, leaning on the sturdy man as shocky bursts of pleasure ignited under his skin. He hadn’t truly expected reciprocation. In fact, a small part of him expected Luke to come to his senses at any moment and throw him out.
He’d waited too long for this to last. His nose and mouth grazed Luke’s, wanting to feel him but panting too hard for a real kiss. He thrust eagerly into Luke’s fist, splashing Luke’s stomach and flaccid cock with his cum and giving a shuddery, bitten-off moan.
“Perfect,” Malachi groaned, peppering wherever he could reach with soft nips and smeared kisses. “Fucking perfect. Call me Mal again, I love it.”
Luke chuckled, dropping his forehead to rest on Malachi’s shoulder. He turned his head to the side and obediently said, “Mal.”
“Hnf, yeah, just like that.” He threaded his fingers into Luke’s sweat-damp hair.
“Mal,” he said, softer, and Malachi angled his head down to capture his lips.
“Any regrets, sweetheart?”
“No.” One hand drifted up, brushing Malachi’s lower lip. “I feel like I should, but for some reason, I just don’t.”
Malachi pressed closer, wrapping his arms around Luke. He tugged until they were laying down with Luke’s head on his chest, then pulled the throw off the back of the couch and draped it over them. “I’m so glad you invited me in, treasure.”
Luke shivered, and Malachi pressed his smile to the top of his head. Luke tossed a muscular arm over his middle and tangled their legs together. It was a tight fit laying on the couch like this, but they made it work. Malachi wouldn’t move for all the world.
“You like that one, treasure?” he whispered. “It’s fitting. You’re beautiful as a diamond and twice as tough. And you are something precious that I want to take good care of.”
“Mal,” he croaked, turning his face into Malachi’s chest.
“Yeah, treasure?”
“Shut up. Stop saying—nice things.”
Malachi chuckled. “That just means I need to say them more. But fine. I said I’d take care of you. That means I should probably get the food.”
“In a minute,” Luke said. “Let’s stay like this for a little longer.”
Victory roared within Malachi, and he laid his head back against the armrest, grinning up at the ceiling. “Whatever you want, treasure.”