Chapter 20
Milo
Suddenly Milo’s life was full of Rowan.
They saw each other every single day somehow. Mostly after Rowan had finished work or around Milo’s hectic and erratic shifts, but even then, sometimes Rowan would stop by for a drink or to order food.
Sometimes they even forgot to mention the whole dragon thing.
Milo didn’t really think too deeply into it. He lived in the moment. And the moment said that he liked having Rowan’s grumpy face around. The moment also said that he liked having Rowan’s grumpy face on his face.
Which was exactly what he was doing on his break in the staff bathroom of the bar.
He’d pulled Rowan in by his tie, ignoring the knowing stare Sheryl was giving him as she took over. But he’d covered for her plenty of times, so he knew she couldn’t say shit.
Rowan had protested, of course, in that shy, I want it but coax me a little, way of his that actually turned Milo on more than he had expected.
He’d ended up pressing Rowan to the bathroom door and kissing away his mumbles of uncertainty. He came alive in Milo’s arms and under his care, growling happily, the deep bass reverberating through his chest.
So, of course, Milo needed to get his hands on it.
It remained Milo’s obsession. This chest needed worshipping once a day at least. More if Rowan would allow him to.
He unbuttoned Rowan’s work shirt easily, tugging the ends out of his pants to reach his prize. He pulled back from their ardent kisses to feast his eyes on the swell of Rowan’s pecs and the way his tie fell in the valley between them.
His mouth watered and he dove right for the left nipple.
Rowan hissed and grabbed a handful of his hair, not pulling him away but applying pressure. “They’re still sore from last night.”
The admission only made Milo harder, and he moaned, remembering how he had made Rowan come untouched by torturing them. He really needed to be stopped. But also…the person who tried would have to pry these babies from his cold, dead hands at this point.
He was pretty sure he was going to go to his grave thinking about them.
He pulled off the swollen nub and kissed around a bite mark that was still red. “But they’re so pretty all puffed up and pink like this. Doesn’t it feel good?”
Milo saw the strain in Rowan’s neck as he threw his head back against the door. “Fuck. You can’t make me come here, Milo. I don’t want to buy more vending machine clothes and you need to go back to work. How are you going to explain the claws and wings?”
Milo peeked over his back, and yup, his wings had ripped through the back of his shirt already. Well, fuck.
Good sense kicked in and Milo sighed.
And then he kicked good sense out of his head, because who needed that guy anyway?
He fell to his knees, unbuckled Rowan’s belt, and undid his pants.
Wide red eyes peered down at him and Milo grinned back. “Problem-solving.”
He dove onto Rowan’s cock.
Rowan growled, smoke puffing out of his mouth and nostrils as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Milo loved it.
Loved that he could unravel someone as big and strong as Rowan with a delicious flick of his tongue.
He also loved that Rowan’s scales weren’t only on his upper half.
They hadn’t gotten fully naked together yet—it was usually one or the other of them in various states of undress because they couldn’t wait—but Milo had seen Rowan in pieces and his mind had put together the puzzle of his body.
The patches of scales curled around Rowan’s groin and speckled Rowan’s shaft with beautiful rubies.
They slid under Milo’s tongue like glass and scratched at the edges, the friction sending tingles through him and shockwaves through Rowan as he teased and prodded around them.
Rowan’s stomach tensed and contracted as Milo bobbed his head, not quite able to take him all the way but making his best attempt at it. No one could say he was a quitter when the going got long and hard.
“Milo,” Rowan moaned, claws curling around his ears and all through his hair. “Your mouth is amazing.”
Milo pulled off with a long lick. “Somone’s changed his tune. I’m pretty sure you hated my mouth when we first met.”
Rowan thumbed at his spit-slick lips, chest heaving. “I’ve come to see its attributes better.”
“Up close and personal.” Milo sucked at the tip in a languid pull, including Rowan’s thumb in the mix. Rowan grunted and bucked his hips, trying to get deeper. Milo let him. Let Rowan use his mouth until he was spilling right down his throat and his own cock was throbbing in his jeans.
Rowan gripped him under his arms and hefted him up with impressive strength before walking him over to the counter and sitting him on the edge.
He worked Milo’s pants down and then it was his turn to fall to his knees, wrapping his arms around Milo’s hips and sinking right down to the root.
“God, you’re so good at that,” Milo moaned, rocking his hips. His wings flicked out, knocking the hand soap into the sink and screeching along the mirror.
He didn’t care.
He closed his thighs around Rowan’s beautiful head and braced his hands on the edge of the counter, clawed fingers curling under.
“Did you ever have a gag reflex?” Milo wondered aloud.
He watched Rowan’s ears bleed red in that shy, pleased way they did whenever Milo complimented him. It made him want to do it over and over.
So he did. He sang out praise as he swung his hips, lifting his butt off the counter and holding his weight up with his arms until they were burning.
Nothing could match the heat around his cock though, and Rowan took it all, letting Milo pound into his mouth until he was gasping and spilling, catching him when Milo’s arms collapsed.
They cleaned up, Rowan speeding through it and looking at the door like someone was going to burst in on them any second. Milo didn’t have the heart to tell him that the whole bar had probably heard them. They hadn’t exactly been quiet.
Smiling to himself, he buttoned his pants, looking over his back at his wings and trying to figure out whether he had enough time to get them to disappear and what he was going to do about the holes in his shirt.
Was there a spare uniform shirt around here? There must have been.
“Earlier, at the bar,” Rowan said, interrupting his musings, “did you hear what I was saying before you called for your break?”
“Psh! Yes, of course,” Milo lied. He scratched his head. He totally hadn’t just been staring at the gorgeous dragony way Rowan did everything or anything. “But if you wanted to summarize…”
Rowan rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth before it fell. “I, uh…need to go out of town for a few days.”
Milo’s brain screeched to a halt.
Rowan was going to be gone?
Like, actually gone?
But he’d only just arrived!
“Milo? Is that okay?” Rowan asked carefully, as if trying to judge his reaction.
Which was strange, right? Because Rowan didn’t really owe him an explanation. Yes, he was helping Milo find his dragon and helping home his hoard, but he still had a life outside of Milo that had somehow faded out of focus.
It made his chest squirm and his blood pressure rise.
His immediate response was that he didn’t want Rowan to be where he couldn’t see him.
Where he couldn’t get his hands on him. Where he couldn’t annoy him or hear his grumpy voice.
Where he couldn’t get into his house and plant more of his things around the place.
Where he wouldn’t be able to make it closer to Rowan’s bedroom inch by inch.
He wanted to stamp his foot in protest and demand that Rowan stay.
For the first time in his life, he held his tongue and didn’t act on his first impulse. “Okay.”
Rowan frowned. “Okay?”
Didn’t he know how much of a struggle that was for him to even say? He was trying to be reasonable here!
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“Don’t you want to know when I’ll be getting back?”
YES!
“If you want to tell me,” Milo demurred.
Rowan frowned harder. “I’ll be gone for a week. I’ll get back on Monday.”
“A WEEK?” he exclaimed, too loudly, and at the surprise in Rowan’s previously gloomy expression, he reined it back in. Coughing, he said, “Isn’t that a little long for a business trip?”
“I have to meet with a partner company and discuss some things. They’re always long-winded and schmoozy.”
“Well I have things to be doing anyway,” Milo said, trying to play off his reaction.
“Oh.” Rowan looked down. “I mean, of course. You’re always pretty busy.”
Was he disappointed? Milo didn’t know.
“When do you leave?” Milo asked, throat thick.
“Tomorrow morning.”
They held eye contact, a thousand things bubbling under the surface. Milo finally couldn’t take it anymore and opened his mouth—
“Milo. Finish whoever needs finishing off in there. Things are getting busy and I need you to change a barrel,” Sheryl called through the door.
“I’ll get going,” Rowan said, blushing as he righted his clothes.
He was gone before Milo could say anything else, a heavy feeling sinking in his chest.
He made it through the rest of his shift distractedly, and not in his usual way where he still somehow managed to make it work.
He’d hooked up a cider barrel instead of a beer barrel. He’d smashed multiple glasses. Sheryl was the only thing keeping them afloat by the end of the night, so he’d given her all his tips as a small apology.
When he eventually slunk his way home he found the usual suspects up and about.
Old people didn’t really sleep in regular patterns, and he often found them wandering around at all hours, day or night.
Shelly was in the middle of a séance as he walked through to the main room, with her eyes closed and the small round table dressed up with her usual trappings. A crystal sat in the center with candles lit all around.
“The spirits told me of your arrival,” she murmured.
Milo snorted. “That’s what usually happens at the end of my shift. I come home.”
“They also told me about the fluctuations in your aura.” She peeked an eye open and crooked a ringed finger at him. “Come sit and I’ll cleanse you.”
“I don’t need cleansing, I’m perfectly fine. Peachy keen.” Milo ignored the gnawing in his chest and the sick feeling in his stomach. It was ridiculous to feel this way.
He turned to go to his room only to get a splash of holy water in the face.
“In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit,” Clarence prayed, holding up his rosary.
“What the hell!” Milo spluttered.
“Pagan cleansing will not work, so I have provided Jesus.”
“I don’t think Jesus needed to splooge all over my face!”
Clarence gasped and threw more holy water on him. “You are clearly possessed.”
Milo wiped his face clean. “I’m fine, you guys!”
“Wine and fries?” Conrad called back, waddling from his room in his robe and slippers. “At this time of night? The doctor said I need to watch my cholesterol.”
Another door opened and Ethel popped her head out, rollers first. “What is all this racket?”
“Nothing, Ethel. Sorry for waking you,” Milo said, slipping past Clarence and away from the holy bukkake.
She eyed him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong!” Milo exploded. “Can we all just drop it?”
“You’ve been coming home smiling from ear to ear for days and now you come home with a thundercloud over your head and you expect us not to notice? Some of us are deaf, not blind.”
“What?” Conrad yelled, shuffling closer.
Ethel rolled her eyes.
Milo sighed out a breath. “It was a tough day at work, that’s all. Everything just caught up to me at once. And I didn’t have any coffee.”
“You’re in misalignment with the stars,” Shelly told him.
“Which a good night’s sleep should fix right up!” he said peppily. “We have Glenn’s appointment in the morning and then it’s bingo night!”
Bingo was the magic word, and they all started discussing the last time they were there and how rigged it was that Martha had won twice in a row. They were determined to catch her out.
Milo slipped away in the chaos, closing his door behind him and pressing his back against it in relief.
He was definitely fine.
He didn’t need to see Rowan every day. He just had because he was there. And now he wouldn’t be. Which was FINE.
He swallowed around what felt like glass shards in his throat, cupping the weird sensation in his stomach.
He tried to shower it away, and for a moment he did feel moderately better, here in his familiar space, with his hoard surrounding him. But his mind was on Rowan’s apartment and how he hadn’t left enough things there really.
Also, Rowan wouldn’t even be there.
Who was looking after his hoard while he was away? Why hadn’t he asked Milo? They had each other’s numbers but they never really texted. They just kind of…ran into each other all the time. Milo would show up at Rowan’s apartment. Rowan would show up at his work.
Milo hadn’t even thought about it further than that.
But now he couldn’t stop.
He dried off and crawled into bed on autopilot, staring up at the stained ceiling.
Everything was fine.
That word totally wasn’t losing all its meaning or anything.