25
Lathan
He was so completely spent that he slept through the movements of Kylo’s shift at dawn. But now, with several hours of rest, the tug of being hugged closer stirs him. He drones, head lolling to the side for Kylo to see his full face, and he starts to move his hand again, the back of his palm still against Kylo’s chest, though now rubbing bare skin instead of coarse fur.
“Good morning,” Kylo whispers, his voice rough and gravelly. It usually takes some time for his vocal cords to recover—and probably even longer after the noises he was making last night.
“Mm. Morning.” Lathan’s eyes flick open, and he gazes at the young man he rests upon, his humanoid shape restored, back in his daily body. A body he loves. A face he loves. Of the man Lathan officially belongs to.
Kylo draws circles into the pale skin of Lathan’s abdomen, where he fixes his stare. “Should we…talk about what happened?”
Lathan searches Kylo’s face, and the nervousness that’s making him chew his lip. And then Lathan feels it too, realizing that he may want to talk about it because it wasn’t what he expected, or wasn’t the same as with another wolf—wasn’t as good—despite his wolfy grins that made Lathan melt.
“We can,” he says, bracing himself, “if you want to.”
“Was I too rough?” Kylo blurts, spilling his concern into the air. “I was trying to be careful, but when you told me to stop teasing you, I just—” A hot breath shudders from his chest, the vibration quaking Lathan’s hand. “I kinda lost myself in the moment.”
Lathan’s fingertips graze the broken skin of his hips, the scabbed claw indents. He hasn’t moved yet, but he’s sore just lying still. And the space connecting his neck and shoulder stings with a bite wound.
“It was a lot,” he admits; he can still feel the deep plunge Kylo took inside of him, how it stole his breath and collapsed his muscles. “But that’s what I expected. That’s what I wanted.”
“Oh.” Kylo reverses the direction of the patterns he’s doodling. “So, did you…” He clears his throat lamely. “Was it…good for you?”
He stomachs his heart as it trips down the staircase of his ribs. He didn’t like it. Gutted that he didn’t offer Kylo what his instincts have given him in the past with other wolves, Lathan removes his hand and stares up at the ceiling. He recalls the words Kylo had said after being fed on him the first time, walking back to his dorm room all woozy and venom-fuelled. With Kylo’s dangerous smile engraved into his memory, the way he growled Lathan’s name, scratched and bit him without hesitation, he decides on honesty, mirroring the same words he was once told. “I’d do that again.”
It’s enough of an answer to confirm his pleasure, but neutral enough, as well, to be nonchalant if Kylo doesn’t want to commit to the full moon practice again. Take it or leave it, Lathan’s going for. But he wants to take it.
The circles on his stomach begin to feel vaguely heart-shaped. “Me too.”
Lathan turns his head abruptly to look at the werewolf. “Yeah?” he asks, trying not to sound too hopeful; he doesn’t know how it compares to being with someone of his own kind.
“Yeah,” Kylo breathes, unable to hide the downturned bend of his lips, his rich eyes flickering with thoughts. Then he tenses and snags the duvet they dozed off on top of, folding it over his hips as his cheeks ignite.
Lathan watches the flush of Kylo’s face and the pull of the covers and chuckles under his breath, feeling affirmed. He’s never questioned himself when it comes to the bedroom, but this was so different—this was, quite literally, out of his territory. So he’s relieved to see Kylo enjoyed it, too. That they might do it again.
He picks up Kylo’s hand from his torso and brings it up to the purpling mark settled into his skin, feeling the remnants of Kylo’s unwarned bite together. “So you wanna tell me exactly what this means now?” He had asked lazily last night, has an inkling what it is—has wondered if this sort of thing exists for werewolves, but never brought himself to ask. Scared of what he may learn.
“Oh, uh. It’s a mating mark. Werewolves make them…during sex. I didn’t realize I was going to do it, but it sorta just happened.” He presses his lips sheepishly. “I-it might scar. Sorry about that.”
Lathan continues to trace their fingers over the ridges of the mark, feeling each divot of tooth and slice of fang, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Your mate, huh?” That’s fucking hot. Lathan exhales, finding it both a sexy and flattering gesture. He marked me. He’s claimed me. It feels intensely intimate, like officiating a long-term bond between them. A marriage of sorts, on an animalistic level. “So what you’re really saying is that I should walk around shirtless, so everyone knows who I belong to.”
Kylo’s eyes widen and his complexion deepens. He ducks under the blankets as he yanks them over his head and whines with embarrassment.
Lathan’s grin lingers, glancing at the outline of Kylo’s button nose through the fabric covering his expressive face. He wonders if ‘mate’ carries any more connotations—and secretly hopes it does. That Kylo’s instincts chose him. That it means they’ll last.
He sits up and hisses, the sharp ache in his lower body taking him by surprise, thankful that Kylo’s face is hidden as he grimaces. Shifting off his butt, he stands to alleviate the sting and stretch his muscles out—stiff and locked over the night after being bent and pushed to new limits. He grabs some underwear from his wardrobe and steps into them carefully.
“Is there anything you wanted to do today? My family never really had holiday traditions, so I don’t know what people do on the Eve of Yule.”
Kylo’s eyes peek out from under the covers; Lathan can hear the stifled exhale through his nose, directly into the scrunched duvet. “I heard there’s a holiday party going on tonight in Ridley. They’re even running the shuttle today so students can go.”
Though it isn’t quite a question, nor a direct suggestion, Lathan smirks at the way his boyfriend peers his big, golden brown eyes at him, wiggling his toes under the blanket. “Sure,” he says, tossing a shirt and some pants over his arm, “let’s check it out.”
◆◆◆
“How are there so many ways to make hot chocolate? It’s hot chocolate ,” Lathan says, a brow raised at the handwritten menu at the beverage stand.
The small town’s been transformed with twinkling lights, scalloped along the roof’s edging of each small establishment. Fake frosted pine trees sit both out on the sidewalks, adorned with red and silver bulbs and different boxes, wrapped with recycled paper. The hum of holiday music trickles all the way to the shuttle stop from uptown, where a large fir tree claims the city centre, a man-made ice rink encircling it. It looks just like how humans celebrate Christmas, and other winter holidays, in movies. There are benches and stands with food like baked goods and holiday treats, like the one Kylo’s ogling, lit up in golden lights tuning in and out on a dimmer and decorated in comforting brown hues that evoke the richness of the wide variety of chocolatey drinks listed for sale.
Part of the spotlighted drinks is the booth’s ‘Organic Mexican Hot Chocolate,’ made with cinnamon and a little bit of chili for extra heat. It strikes Lathan as a staple Maria would have made for her children growing up, and he wants to feel like he’s part of that tradition. Part of the family.
Decided, he tucks into Kylo’s side. “Know what you want?”
“There are too many options. They all sound so good.” He hums and haws for a while—his breaths puffing into the chilly ether, hand burrowing inside the sleeves of his calf-length overcoat—until he chuckles with defeat. “Surprise me!”
Assumably hearing her cue, the girl by the stacked to-go cups turns to them with a smile, which brightens further into a beam before she can greet them.
“Oh, hi!” Eunice chirps; Lathan notices the smaller marketing text of the signs, connecting this little stand back to the bistro she works at, where the two had their first date. She bounces, clearly excited to see them still together after serving them months ago. “It’s nice to see you again! Happy Yule!”
“Happy Yule!” Kylo tosses back to her, a bit too happy himself. “It’s nice to see you, too. I’m Kylo, and this is my boyfriend, Lathan.”
She grins, tilting her head to the side, her braids, pulled up into a large bun atop her head, following with their weight. “Aw, y’all are so cute. Okay”—she claps her little hands—“what can I getcha tonight? Another Sex on the Beach?”
“Dammit,” Kylo laughs, scratching the back of his olive beanie. “I wish you didn’t remember that. I think a hot chocolate will be fine today.”
“Good! Because that’s all I’ve got.” She giggles. “So what’ll it be?”
“A Mexican and”—Lathan looks at Kylo—“a cookies and cream?”
Kylo’s eyes sparkle under the tiny, twinkling bulbs, and he nods aggressively with the choice.
Eunice spins, her apron floating with her, and gets to work on their two drinks. After a few short minutes, she puts both steaming cups onto the wood counter with a big smile. “Here you are: an organic Mexican hot chocolate, and a cookies and cream! It’s on the house.”
Lathan stops, his wallet in his hands. “What? Are you sure?”
She nods, her round, doll-like cheeks pushed up into her eyes. “It’s nice to see more cross-species couples around. Gives us reassurance.”
A tightness pulls within his chest at the acknowledgement of their differences, but Kylo grabs his hand, poking fingers from their sleeve-cave, and laces their fingers. Lathan squeezes them a little tighter and slides his wallet back into his pocket. Then he hesitates. She said ‘us.’
“Thank you.” He picks up his cup, watching her carefully. “You’re dating someone who isn’t a vampire?”
Eunice leans a little too far onto the table, rocking it though she looks barely more than a hundred pounds. “My girlfriend’s an elf. Best relationship I’ve been in!”
“Me too,” Kylo says, and flashes a trademarked grin up at his boyfriend. “Are you two going to the party later?”
“Yeah!” She pushes off the counter, holding its edge, elbows locked and bowed. “Ellie’s gonna meet me after my shift. Maybe we’ll see you guys there!”
It puts Lathan in a calmer state of being to hear, out loud, that someone else is doing the same dance as he and Kylo. A vampire, too. While he’s become very comfortable with his relationship—was never uncomfortable with Kylo himself—being different from his partner is always going to be a part of it. It’s reassuring, though, as Eunice said, to know others, and not just depend on the horror stories of the online forums. And it might make him even better if he sees a mixed-species couple, too.
“If you see us, come say hi,” Lathan says, and it’s his way of offering that opening to a new friendship. “Thanks again,” he adds, cheering his hot chocolate in the air.
They walk slowly down the long street of shops, now decorated with varying light displays and festive monuments. With every stand set up with cookies and pies and braised meats, Lathan stops to ask Kylo if he’d like any, without hesitation, even when Kylo keeps saying no.
“How’s your hot chocolate?” he asks after they’ve both taken several sips of their drinks.
Kylo licks his top lip of the white froth. “It’s so good! It’s creamy, and has that good bittersweet aftertaste from the dark chocolate, exactly like a cookie. Wanna taste?”
Lathan releases Kylo’s hand and stops in their tracks to grab the cup, tilting his head back slightly with his sip. He lets it dissolve on his taste buds for a moment before nodding and handing it back. “That’s not bad. A little sweet for me, but that makes it perfect for you.”
Kylo opens his mouth, but then the compliment hits him and he blushes, pinching his rosy lips shut. Lathan smirks and then offers his drink to Kylo without asking if he wants to try—he knows him by now. As Kylo takes the cup, Lathan says, “I ordered this one because it reminded me of your family. Of something your mom would make.”
Before he can raise the cup to his lips, Kylo’s gaze moves across from the brim of the lid to Lathan standing before him. Lathan watches Kylo’s shoulder inflate with a quiet breath. “She would be so tickled you said that.” He takes a sip and smiles, closing his eyes for a brief moment, Lathan assumes, to think of his family. “You’re right, it does.”
Lathan takes his drink back and then looks down at the cardboard cover. “I’m sorry you couldn’t spend the holidays with them this year. I know your parents are just on a trip, but your family’s all really special.”
“Hey.” Kylo puts a hand on Lathan’s arm. As he steps closer, he swaps the placement of his fingers to uptilt Lathan’s jaw. “ You’re special. I’ve spent every holiday with them growing up, but this is our first. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
The lights wink around them through the delicate descent of snow. Lathan pivots his face into Kylo’s warm hand—always retaining so much more heat than him—and plants a kiss in the centre of his palm. The soft kiss of each crystalized flake against his skin, melting in the same moment, is magical, and he wouldn’t want to have experienced this moment—this school year—with anyone else.
He’s never been one for romance. He didn’t grow up under two people who showed affection—to each other or their son. It’s always been hard to imagine himself happy, giddy, romantic with a partner like other couples. But Kylo’s changed him irreparably, and whatever happens in their future—however long their love lasts—he’ll never forget what Kylo’s done for him.
He takes the wolf’s hand from his face, interlocked down at their sides again, and smiles at him. “Come on. Party should be starting soon.”
Approaching the town’s main community centre, the music swirling all through the streets thumps heavier, crispier, singing out from the building in front of them. Like the majority of the old buildings in Ridley, the hall stands with brick and stone architecture, hosting two large, ornate wooden doors that are heavy to open, so Lathan steps in to help, twisting his mouth to avoid a laugh—just last night his boyfriend was multiple times his strength, and now he’s opening a door for him.
Inside, the big square room is embellished in rustic amber lights and gold and silver decorations. The left half is filled with round tables and chairs, a feast of a walk-up buffet, and a bar draped with red satin at its base. On the right is an opening for a dance floor—already graced with people bobbing and grooving along—in front of a stage where a local band is shuffling between both festive and popular tunes.
Kylo chugs the last of his hot chocolate and tosses the cup into the garbage next to them in the entry. “This is better than I expected,” he says, scoping out the decorations and partygoers. “Looks like they have an open bar. Wanna grab a drink?”
Lathan gives Kylo a look. “If you’re okay dealing with my drunk ass.”
An all too eager grin stretches across Kylo’s face. “Oh, absolutely. I’d pay good money to see that.”
“You might be asking for a refund afterward,” Lathan mumbles, already tugging Kylo along to join the short line. They wait behind two others before stepping up to the lone bartender, who waits wordlessly for their order.
“I’ll have a rum and cola, please,” Kylo says, then looks at Lathan.
“Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
The bartender slides Kylo’s over first, then a minute later has Lathan’s ready. “Happy Yule,” he says in a monotone, clearly something he’s being paid to offer every customer.
Lathan rarely drinks. It too quickly becomes a drunken affair he’d rather not deal with the repercussions from. But tonight’s different, he supposes: classes are over, exams have completed, and it’s his first holiday with Kylo tomorrow. So he sips his beer—a bit lighter than he’d normally go for—as they walk away from the emotionless bartender and find a table to call their own before the rest of the crowd shows up.
The band plays on—and the members look young, maybe even students themselves—filling the hall with Yule-time cheer as Lathan and Kylo snack on the complimentary cookies and chips that fill decorative glass bowls in the centre of the table. Only a few minutes pass before a woman’s shrill voice climbs up to them.