Chapter 16
Milo
So…
That had happened.
As Milo caught his breath and tried to make sense of his own thoughts, he realized something in his chest was pretty pleased with itself, curled up and contented like a house cat in a patch of sun.
Despite his astonishment, he’d never felt so…calm.
It was the oddest sensation.
He pulled back to stare down at Rowan like his forehead could hold all the answers, then got distracted by his own arm. Which was covered in scales and had claws tipping the ends of his fingers.
He fell backward off Rowan’s lap with a squeak in his excitement, barely holding on to his open pants as he hopped over the plants to reach a mirror.
A beta-shifted dragon stared back at him.
Eyes like glass, slit down the middle. Scales curling around the edges of his face, framing it like a racing hood.
Claws the color of silver stars that faded lightly at the ends.
He was still in there. He was still Milo.
He looked mostly the same—a little too gaunt, a little too tired and manic, hell, even the dark circles had stayed.
But there was something undeniably new about the shape and shadow of this face and how it made his features even sharper.
As he tilted his head and flexed his hands, it didn’t fade, the unnatural feel of his claws evidence that this was not some weird dream.
He was a motherfucking dragon.
“You are,” Rowan said, making Milo aware that he had been talking out loud.
He spun around with wide eyes. “When did I…” And promptly got distracted by just how gorgeously wrecked Rowan looked.
His hair was a mess of tangles, his chest red and covered in Milo’s come. He had a matching stain wetting the front of his pajama pants, outlining his spent dick.
Milo was getting ideas again.
Seeing his perusal, Rowan crossed his arms and covered his chest with his hands, looking suddenly shy.
Milo really hadn’t expected someone who looked like Rowan to be so prudish and soft. Milo’s heart thumped dangerously, but he also knew it was only right to check in.
“About…all that,” Milo said. “Was that okay?”
Rowan had seemed into it. Milo had made sure to check. In fact, just how into it Rowan appeared had sent Milo a little feral. Which was probably why he hadn’t noticed the shift.
“Yes,” Rowan said, high-pitched and fast. “I’ve just never done anything like…” He seemed to mentally switch tracks as the embarrassment overwhelmed him. It was adorable and Milo had to bite back a smug smile. “I should find my shirt.”
Milo glanced around and spotted it hanging from the ceiling fan. He pointed up. “Ummm…”
Rowan rushed over, grabbed it, and held it to his chest. “Let me go and get cleaned up and we can talk about your dragon.”
He hurried away like Milo was going to chase him and his chest into the bathroom.
And, well…
That wasn’t off the table of his intrusive thoughts. But Rowan’s chest was a full-course meal, and Milo had been starving for months!
It was hard to find a guy Milo was attracted to who also would be into, or even willing to try, what Milo liked.
The big, strong ones usually came with a few masculinity hangups.
They wanted to bend Milo like a pretzel or have him lie there and “let them make him feel good” while they flexed their virality and prowess.
And hey, he wasn’t knocking the pillow princess lifestyle.
That sounded rad if you liked that sort of thing.
But Milo had never been good at keeping still or letting someone else drive the bus.
Yes, he liked being railed into next week by a guy. And yes, he wanted to titty fuck the same guy and make him go crazy.
Was that so much to ask for?
He stared at the bathroom door and the hidden wonder on the other side.
Maybe not.
But weren’t they supposed to hate each other? Or, like…maybe they’d settled into some kind of mutual benefit situation. Those didn’t usually include orgasms though, right? Those were the other kind of benefits. The ones with friends. Were they friends?
He hummed in thought as he cleaned himself up at the kitchen sink and fixed his clothes. As he was finishing, the bathroom door opened and Rowan stepped back out, hair detangled and a new set of pajamas on. He cleared his throat, though he still had some trouble looking Milo in the eye.
“We should look for your breed of dragon now we can see it more clearly.”
Milo nodded enthusiastically. “I won’t even complain about the books. I wonder what badass name I’ll have.”
Rowan rolled his eyes, his body language easing as they settled into their usual back-and-forth. “Probably something like the blue and white annoyance.”
He headed for his bookshelf after that juvenile insult, and Milo rolled his eyes back as he followed. “Ooh burn.”
Rowan gave him a haughty glare.
“What does it say about your breed, then?” He picked up a book, opened it to an unknown page, and pretended to read. “The Great Red Douchedragon. Prone to sulking and tantrums.”
“That’s a book about plants. It does not say that.”
“Do not approach after dark or he’ll lure you into his bed by removing his shirt—”
Rowan snatched the book from his hands and tried to covertly look inside to double-check that it couldn’t possibly say that, even though it was his book.
Milo snickered.
Rowan replaced the book on the shelf and pretended not to notice as he began his search.
Milo found himself fidgeting on the spot within seconds, glancing around for something to keep him occupied.
“Want me to move the plant circle?” Milo asked as Rowan continued to scan the spines. “I think they may have been talked to enough for one night.”
Rowan’s hand froze on a book, and he looked back over his shoulder like he’d suddenly remembered that his precious babies had witnessed all the filthy things they’d just done.
He hurried over, shoving the book at Milo before picking the plants up by the armful, muttering an “Oh my god” for every one as he replaced them in their spots.
“Hey, plants are resilient. I’m sure they’re not traumatized,” Milo said helpfully.
“Oh my god,” Rowan said with more feeling.
Milo had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing. The dragon was a stick-in-the-mud, but he was actually very amusing.
He let Rowan fuss as he cracked the book open, dropping onto the three-seater sofa facing the windows—the comfy-ass one he’d fallen asleep on.
A variety of jewel-colored dragons graced the cover and title page, but none looked like him.
He began flicking through the pages, reading about breed types and looking at the corresponding traits and coloring.
“Is this you?” he asked Rowan when he stumbled upon an image of a gargantuan dark red dragon in mid-flight. The ruby of his scales shone in the sunlight and the eyes looked like fire come to life.
“Yes,” Rowan said, and Milo returned to the book.
“The Ruby Spike-Ripper,” he read aloud, face contorting into a grimace.
CRINGE!!
“Did a fourteen-year-old gamer come up with the names?”
“Could be,” Rowan said. “Most breed names are along those lines.”
“Lovely.” Milo rolled his eyes. “My excitement is slowly dwindling. You look cool though.”
“Thanks.” A flush crept up Rowan’s neck. “Rubies are relatively rare these days.”
“How come?” Milo asked. He was trying to read the page about Rowan’s heritage, but there was a lot of VERY tiny text and not enough pictures for him to commit to it.
“We’re big,” he said with a shrug. “The population is growing. Evolution is probably realizing there isn’t enough space or resources for a lot of us. Most larger breeds are dwindling in numbers.”
Milo looked at his face, hearing the quiet sadness in his words. He didn’t know exactly what that was like. He’d never belonged to something bigger. Always alone, fractured, and looking for something he didn’t know if he’d ever find.
And even with his found family now, he was still somewhat on the outside.
Ray had his own life and family outside of being Milo’s friend.
His oldies were his to care for, but Milo had come to them when their lives had already been almost fully lived without him.
And while they told him stories of their youth, he’d never know them the way he would have known a family member he’d grown up with.
With Glenn, he wasn’t even sure if any of the stories were true, entertaining though they were.
So he thought he could understand Rowan feeling the loss of his breed. Feeling the group he belonged to dwindling slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he said truthfully.
Rowan shrugged. “It’s nature. It happens.”
Milo nodded, flipping to the next page.
“The Ridged Sucker??” He scream-read the title next to an image of a bright purple dragon, small in stature but with a wingspan about three times its size. “Are you fucking kidding me??”
“They’re all assholes.” Rowan glared at the book.
“If your name was the Ridged Sucker, you’d be an asshole too, man.” Milo shook his head. “Glad I ain’t that.”
He flipped several more pages before finally stopping at a dragon that looked eerily like Milo thought he’d look in full shift.
Thin, long, sharp-looking body in shades of silver, white, and blue.
Almost translucent wings, the bones protruding, almost skeletal.
It looked high-strung and scowly, and Milo gasped as he ran a finger over the page. It was him.
“The Glacial Swoop,” he read, rolling the name over his tongue. “Not ideal. Better than Sucker, so I can live with that.”
“That’s not you,” Rowan said, peering over.
Milo snapped his head up. “What do you mean it’s not me? It looks just like me!”
“It looks similar, but the differences are there,” Rowan said. “The Swoop has sharp, pointed scales, almost like tiny thorns, the claws are darker than yours, and the eyes are rounder and wider open than yours.”
Milo leaned over the book, nose almost glued to it as he inspected the details Rowan pointed out and compared them to what he had seen on himself.
He was mostly back to looking human by that point, but the claws and some scales remained.
“Oh. I thought…”
“There are so many breeds of dragon, some of them are bound to be similar,” Rowan said. “We’ll find you.”
But they didn’t.
Milo stayed until dawn broke and the pale yellow streams of light crawled along the hardwood floors. Rowan’s plants rustled when the light touched them, breaking him out of his trance.
He found Rowan sound asleep on the floor next to him, piles of books discarded all around them.
He looked calm and relaxed in sleep. Softer and more mellow.
Sweet and cuddly. Milo imagined what it would be like to just cuddle next to his huge body and join him in slumber.
He wondered if Rowan would pull him closer.
If he was a snorer or a restless sleeper.
He wanted to know so many things, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask.
He and Rowan were…accidental accomplices.
They were working together on a mission and would go their separate ways after it was done.
Milo stood up and stepped over one of the books, glaring at it as if it had personally offended him. They’d picked through every last one Rowan had, and whatever Milo was was nowhere to be found.
He yawned and stretched until every joint cracked then turned around to locate his phone. He found it at five percent battery and with several missed calls from his coffee shop boss, followed by a text begging him to come take the morning shift because Alisa had called in sick.
“Shit,” he cursed, glancing at the time and realizing he was an hour late, but figured it was an emergency and they’d just be happy to have help whenever he showed up.
He rushed around in as much silence as he could manage, gathering his stuff and digging through his bag to check if he had everything.
He found a crumpled napkin flower he’d folded during a lull at the bar, and before he could talk himself out of it, stuffed it between the leaves of a particularly thick plant next to Rowan’s window.
It settled that restless demon in his chest, and he glanced at Rowan one last time before storming out, rushing to get to work while it was still at least somewhat early.
He hadn’t slept and he was running on fumes. He dug some change out and bought an energy drink at a little kiosk on the way, dreaming of espresso and wondering what the logistics of injecting it right into his veins would be.
He’d have to look into that.
Soon.
Notes:
Do not recommend for legal reasons.