Danny’s giggle was devious but still somehow sweet, not menacing. “I’ll show you, Ice Man. I want you to soak your shorts before I take them off of you.”
As Danny licked lightly around the scar along his clavicle, Mal moaned. Soaking his underwear would not be a problem. Only this kid could have him chasing pleasure after running from a panic attack. He wondered briefly why he’d never let anyone else adore his scars like this, but he knew the answer. No one had ever wanted to.
Danny worked his way up Mal’s neck, where he’d no doubt leave another mark with how firmly he sucked at that spot Mal loved, right beneath his ear. Priestly, Dom, Lucy—they could all say whatever they wanted; Mal couldn’t care less when it felt this good.
Occasionally, he’d get lost, distracted by a scar Danny focused on. He’d remember where it came from, how much it had hurt, how much he hated it even now for what it represented. But Danny never faltered, and the memories seemed to vanish in the haze of pleasure caused by his lips and teeth and tongue.
Jagged ice, hard edges, and cigarette burns were all erased by the wet trails left in Danny’s wake. Mal wanted to tell Danny how he’d gotten each one, when he’d never told anyone about all of them. He opened his mouth several times, but it always closed again as he stared at the ceiling or focused on the lights of his city.
“I don’t need to know their stories,” Danny said, as if reading his mind. “I know. I know enough. We’re both battered and broken, Mal. You just wear your scars on the outside where they’re easier to see. But I know these aren’t the worst of them.”
They weren’t. Not even close. The worst were buried deep, etched into Mal’s blood and bones. They couldn’t be kissed away. They couldn’t be hidden or forgotten, because only Mal saw them, and he saw them every day.
The first tear startled him, warm and slow-moving down his cheek. He took a breath and realized how choked his throat was from holding the tears back. Gasping as it all caught up with him, Mal almost pulled away, but then he looked at Danny and the expression on the kid’s face froze him where he lay.
Danny stared, in awe of the tears marring Mal’s face as though they mesmerized him. When he surged up to kiss Mal, the attack didn’t throw him back into the clutches of panic. He coiled his arms around Danny’s back and held him skin to skin, tongues dancing, hips rocking even with both of them still covered below the waist.
Rolling them again, Mal returned the other direction, not so he could get on top of Danny, but so they could lie side by side. Danny kissed down his neck with sharp nips of his teeth and Mal whimpered. Pulling and kicking at his underwear to get them down his legs and off, Mal then helped Danny do the same with his suit, until nothing remained but skin between them and it was barely enough to hang on and grind forward.
Lips sought each other’s mouths and necks. Hands grazed each other’s skin everywhere they could reach. They writhed, sharing the wetness between them, caught up in the moment and gasping together without thought of anything but friction—more friction.
Danny’s moans were sweet and filthy all at once, his muscles taut and powerful as he wrapped around Mal and wouldn’t let go. Mal didn’t want to be let go. He wanted to get lost, wanted to be enveloped. He could feel Danny quivering and slowly, slowly starting to spark as their climaxes built on each other. And with it, Mal felt ice frost across his skin.
Cringing, he reined his powers back in.
“It’s okay,” Danny whispered. “It doesn’t hurt like that. You can let go.”
No, Mal thought, I can’t. “Prefer to save the fireworks for you,” he said rather than admit his fears and ruin their momentum.
They kissed. And kissed. Even Danny’s tongue tingled with his power. Foreheads pressed together, eyes open but blinking blearily, Mal saw something he’d only caught glimpses of before in battle as they rode out their release and finished together.
Danny’s eyes—glowing with his lightning. They were so beautiful like that.
Before Mal could reach up to brush his remaining tears away, Danny did it for him. For a few moments, with Danny’s thumbs stroking beneath his eyes and Mal staring back at the lingering traces of lightning in Danny’s, they didn’t speak. But they kissed and remained tangled up until the mess between them demanded attention.
“I got it,” Danny said, and it seemed only moments passed before he returned to wipe them clean, then laid on the floor and wrapped Mal in his arms like snuggling a body pillow.
Mal almost laughed, but the sound got lost somewhere as he realized that if it had been anyone else, he’d have pushed them away and demanded space. Too many minutes like this and he still would, but Danny could get away with things no one else ever had.
“Sorry,” Danny said, as if right that moment he remembered Mal wasn’t one for touch, especially tight clinging that made him feel trapped. Pulling back, Danny remained lying facing him, both of them propped on their sides, parallel.
Mal grasped the back of Danny’s neck and kissed him again. Slower. Softer. Dangerous. Mal wasn’t made of glass. Neither of them was. Harder stuff than glass cracked and broke sometimes too.
“I’m sorry about the suit,” Danny said when they pulled apart. “And the bed.”
“Pretty sure that part was my fault.” Mal looked back at his frozen mattress and sheets. It would thaw, eventually, but it would make a mess of the bedroom if he left it, and nothing could save the bed from the damage and dampness. He’d have to replace it.
“But I—”
“Forget it, Sparky. You’ll find ways to pay me back. Do you want—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Danny said when Mal turned back to him. “Not right now.”
“Okay. Suit looks good on you. When I can see it. Meant more for Ludgate, I take it?”
“Yeah.”
“Driving you that crazy, huh?”
“Him. And other things.” They were quiet for a few moments before Danny’s eyes brightened and he refocused on Mal. “Hey, what were you going to watch before I came in? You had Netflix up.”
Mal raised an eyebrow at him but decided to be honest. “Big Trouble in Little China.”
“Really?” Danny laughed. “I love that movie. Especially the end, when Kurt Russell gets knocked out at the start of the battle and everyone else kicks butt without him. Classic.”
Mal was in so much trouble with this kid. He couldn’t stop the offer from tumbling past his lips, “You got somewhere better to be right now?” But that was the most dangerous offer of all, because it was so much more than sex between nemeses.
Blinking at him, blank for a moment, Danny smiled. “Not tonight.”
They rose from the floor and dressed in sleep clothes—Danny borrowing some of Mal’s like he had the other day. Mal’s shirt and jeans went into the hamper; Danny’s new suit was folded and set on the end table in the living room, while his boots were placed on the rug where they belonged. The bed could wait until tomorrow.
Mal enjoyed the silly and private joke they shared, the way he glared at Danny the entire time he walked the boots to the door; the way Danny rolled his eyes but apologized as if the boots were far worse than how he had acted when he first showed up.
While Danny pulled up the movie, Mal made popcorn and grabbed sodas from the fridge because, “It’s a movie, Sparky. Some things are mandatory.” When Danny mentioned that Milk Duds would have been nice, Mal pressed the soda he’d been about to offer him to the side of Danny’s neck, making him hiss and jump up from the sofa.
“Jerk. Sheesh. Though I suppose it figures, coming from you, Ice Man.”
“My diabolical plans with frigid props knows no bounds.”
Danny erupted into a full-on belly laugh at that. It was the most soothing sound Mal had heard in ages.
After pressing ‘play’, with the popcorn in Danny’s lap and a drink for each of them,
Mal claimed the end of the sofa, only to find himself cornered as his nemesis snuggled up against him.
Danny stiffened almost immediately and pulled away. “Is this okay?”
Normally no. Normally never. “You’re fine, Danny,” Mal said and opened his arm in offering.
More than I’ll ever deserve.
ß
Danny was being stupid again. He should have left after the sex. Should have left before the sex. Should never have gone to Cho’s apartment in the first place, not when he was in such a bad place, the same sort of bad place he’d been in when he almost hurt people. When once…he’d killed someone.
Now he’d hurt Cho. Scared him. Danny knew it wasn’t an act, wasn’t anything planned, not this time. Not with the way Cho had been shaking and lost control of his powers.
But as bad as Danny felt about what he’d done, the rest of the night had turned out so…nice. When the movie was over, Danny didn’t want to leave. They watched Kurt Russell flicks until he almost fell asleep halfway through Escape from L.A.
“First one’s better anyway,” Cho said before nudging Danny fully awake so he could lie back properly on the sofa. The bedroom wasn’t an option tonight.
Danny knew he shouldn’t stay with Cho again, but he didn’t want to go home. It had been so nice for a while. Pretending. Like they were dating. Like they were normal. Like maybe Danny didn’t hate Cho as much as he’d thought.
A heist here or there, that didn’t bother Danny. He didn’t care about thefts, even as a detective. He cared about people, not property damage. But something would mess it all up someday. Cho. Danny himself. Reality. Cho would let him down again like he had six months ago, and Danny would remember why he’d hated him to begin with.
Maybe Cho would be devastated when Danny left. Maybe Danny would enjoy that devastation. Maybe he wouldn’t. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted. But he didn’t want any of it to end. Not yet. He wanted Cho for just a little longer. Just a little longer.
He tried to shake those thoughts away when he entered the morgue the next morning, wearing the stealth suit but walking in with the mask off and the rest visible. “Hey, Andre,” he said as he started to gather the clothes he’d left there last night.
Andre was showered and dressed in fresh clothes himself, but he looked like he hadn’t slept. Wearing a frown as he sat in his customary roller chair, he kept his arms crossed until Danny looked at him.
Danny had left his phone behind. Maybe Andre had answered it. Maybe John or Stella had gotten a hold of him some other way. At least Lynn didn’t appear to be around. It was Saturday after all.
“What?” Danny asked, not in the mood to antagonize but not feeling up to defending himself either.
“I forgot to tell you something before you left last night,” Andre said, completely straight-faced, staring Danny down. “Just thought you should know. I already built comms into the suit.” He tilted his head at The Invisible Man.
“Okay.” Danny shrugged, unsure where Andre was going with this. “Great?”
As his arms finally relaxed, Andre looked simultaneously pissed off and disappointed. “And,” he said, emphasizing that the worst was yet to come, “they were on last night. Sparky.”
Chapter 20
The blood drained from Danny’s face. Shit. Shit.
“Andre—”
“What the hell, Danny? Cho? You’re screwing Malcolm Cho?!” Andre erupted as if he’d been holding in his emotions since the moment Danny walked in. “After you jumped down my throat for saying you shouldn’t hate him? What was that? Just to throw me off? Some kind of act?”
“What? No.” Danny surged toward Andre, causing him to wheel back like he didn’t want to be anywhere near Danny right now. “None of it was an act,” except for when I’m with him, “I blew up that night because it touched a nerve, okay? I still thought I did hate him then.”
“When you were already sleeping together?” Andre wrinkled his nose.
Danny couldn’t deny that; he’d been honest with Andre and Lynn about finding a lover since the start, even if they hadn’t known his identity. “Yes.”
“And now you, what? Don’t? Or you still hate him and just don’t care?”
Danny’s mouth opened only to hang agape, silent. Did he hate Cho? Did he still want to go through with his plan to break the man’s heart? Either way, he couldn’t tell Andre that. He’d just look more disgusted with Danny than he already was.
Because it was awful, wasn’t it? What he planned to do? It was despicable. Cruel…
“Danny?” Andre snapped him back to the moment, looking fervent and desperate, but not angry anymore, not really.
“It’s complicated,” Danny said, staring at the floor between him and Andre. “And I know you probably think it’s dangerous and stupid because it’s Cho, and whether I hate him or not, I shouldn’t trust him, but if he was just using this to get one over on me, he’s had me vulnerable enough to make a move plenty of times.”
Andre let the silence linger before he said, “If you’ve been sleeping with him since what happened with Camouflage, I believe you. But it’s not only about that, Danny.”
“It’s not?”
“Yeah, okay, so trusting Prometheus is a little hard for me to swallow,” Andre shrugged, then immediately cringed at his choice of words. “But it also means you lied to us. Repeatedly. Again.”
“I never lied.” Danny finally looked up at him. “I told you I was seeing someone. I told you it was just sex. I even told you it was a guy.”
The incredulity on Andre’s face would have been comical in any other situation. “Don’t start with me about withholding information versus lying when we’re talking about Prometheus. It’s not the same thing and you know it. This isn’t some sugar daddy or creep we’d tell you to steer clear of for your own good. He’s a supervillain. Which is why,” Andre held up a hand to stop the protest Danny wasn’t even sure he had ready, “I’m going to be honest with you too.”
Oh god. Danny had been so caught up in the idea of Andre knowing about him and Cho, he’d completely forgotten what else his friend might have overheard. Had Andre eavesdropped on everything? Even when Danny came close to…when he’d almost…
“Gaia Facebooked me last night.”
“Huh?” Danny had clearly been too much in his head to have heard that right.
Slowly, Andre rolled back toward the desk and Danny pivoted out of the way so he could reach the computer. “Lucy Cho, under a dummy account as Lucy Green, Facebooked me last night. No friend request or anything, just a PM. Which, umm…might have started a conversation? I was going to tell you last night!” he added quickly, as if Danny would have chided him right then. “That’s part of why I wanted you to test the suit—I was working up the nerve to confess. Then you ran off like you couldn’t get away fast enough and I got my…earful.” He shuddered.
“Wait,” Danny perched beside the computer but didn’t yet read the conversation Andre pulled up, “how much did you overhear? For my own sanity.”
“Dude, like I ever want to hear what Prometheus’s ‘O’ face sounds like. Urg…” he blanched, suddenly green around the edges, “why did I put that image in my head?”
“Andre…” Danny fought a twitch at his mouth.
“Relax. I stopped listening about the time you said you’d do unspeakable things to Prometheus wearing my suit, thank you very much. The real Zeus suit better not have been anywhere near him at any point unless he was fully dressed and aiming an ice dagger at you.”
The remaining tension dissolved from Danny’s shoulders. Andre hadn’t overheard how far Danny had gone or any of Cho’s breakdown.
Good. That was good.
“Danny.”
“I got it. The Zeus suit remains unsullied,” Danny said, hands raised in placation. “I promise.” Never mi
nd that Danny had worn the suit to Cho’s place with plans to sully it. “Now, come on, Andre. Let me see what happened with Gaia.”
The conversation over Facebook wasn’t anything for Andre to feel guilty about. Mostly it was just Lucy trying, quite innocently, to get to know Andre, and Andre evading offering up anything concrete while trying unsuccessfully to suss out ulterior motives.
Finally, Lucy had said, Truth? Mickey’s been seeing some new boytoy on the sly. Has me wondering what a better offer might look like.
Better offer than what?
Maybe we could meet some time and figure that out.
Surrre, Gaia. Like you or your brother would ever be able to give up thievery.
You’re probably right. See ya around, cutie, she’d ended the conversation and signed off.
“Imagine my surprise when I found out said boytoy is actually you,” Andre said, though Danny wondered if the grimace on his face had more to do with how things had ended with Lucy than anything between Danny and Cho.
Andre had never met Lucy in person, but the way he talked about her whenever she faced off against Zeus definitely implied appreciation, if not an outright crush on the woman.
Lucy wasn’t a bad person. Not really. Who wouldn’t have grown up a little rough around the edges with a father like Icebox? It was a wonder both she and Cho weren’t serial killers.
Yet that was close to how Danny had thought of Cho recently. The man had killed people. A significant number of people over the years—and probably several that had never been attributed to him, given how good he was at getting away with his crimes. Sure, they had all been bad people, but where was the line? That was something Danny had been asking himself a lot lately, as that line grew fainter and fainter beneath his feet.
But doing bad things, making bad choices, that wasn’t supposed to be where things ended. People were meant to have second chances. If they wanted them. If they tried to change. Danny had been raised to believe that reformation was always preferable to punishment, which contradicted everything he’d been planning with breaking Cho’s heart.
Lovesick Gods Page 27