Hex and Candy

by Ashlyn Kane

  “You’re killing me,” he murmured, shoving Cole toward the bed. “I need to touch you too.”

  Cole landed on his back on the bed, legs splayed. “That seems fair,” he agreed, reaching out his arms in invitation. “Where do you want to start?”

  Only, instead of jumping on the bed like Cole expected, Leo stood rooted to the spot, expression nakedly hungry yet somehow apprehensive. What was going on in his head? “Leo?”

  But the moment broke, and Leo shook his head. “I have no idea,” he admitted quietly.

  Oh. Well, Cole could help with that. “I have a couple ideas if you’re open to suggestions.” He waggled his eyebrows and patted the bed beside him. “But you’re going to have to come a little closer first.”

  Leo climbed onto the other side of the bed. Before he could overthink it further, Cole kissed him, curling his body into Leo’s so that their knees brushed, cupping the side of his face. Leo hummed into the kiss and the tension melted out of him, his hand going to Cole’s waist, then his hip. Cole trailed his fingertips down Leo’s throat to his chest, chasing goose bumps. He could have gotten lost in the valley between Leo’s pectorals. Leo had better muscle definition than Cole, but also better than anyone Cole had ever met. With anyone else he might have been self-conscious, but he already knew how Leo felt about him, so self-consciousness seemed self-defeating. Leo correctly thought Cole was awesome.

  And Cole was going to prove it, hopefully with sex.

  “See,” he gasped as Leo slid his hand under the waistband of Cole’s boxers. “You didn’t need my help after all.”

  Leo laughed through his nose, then shifted his weight and pulled until Cole was lying on top of him, braced over his shoulders, their groins aligned so Cole could feel Leo’s dick hard next to his own. “I might need a little help,” he said, both hands on the bare skin of Cole’s ass now. Cole groaned, grinding down. “Don’t think I can get these off without your cooperation.”

  “Oh, I’ll cooperate in getting off.” Cole planted his elbows on the bed and rose to all fours. “Don’t worry about that.”

  This time Leo’s laugh turned into a moan as Cole sucked kisses down his jawline toward his neck. “Oh, so now you’re putting words in my mouth.”

  Cole grinned against his clavicle, then bit lightly, testing. Well, Leo had dated a vampire; it was an educated guess. Leo shivered pleasantly. “Really. You’re gonna give me an opening like that?”

  “That’s not the only opening I’ll give you,” Leo promised, only it turned into a yelp when Cole bit his nipple, almost accidentally, in surprise at the blatant invitation. “God, do that again.”

  “Sorry, busy now,” Cole murmured against his sternum, mouthing his way south. He slid his hands down Leo’s chest to pluck at his nipples, though; he wasn’t heartless. Another day he’d take his time and explore properly. But tonight—well, they’d waited long enough.

  Leo’s stomach twitched under Cole’s lips when Cole reached his navel, and he nipped instead, then sat back to run his hands up Leo’s thighs. “Hey, question: Should I use a condom to suck your dick?”

  Leo groaned and his hips jerked under Cole’s hands. “I work in a hospital. I had a panel done last week. All negative. The paper’s in my jeans pocket if you want.”

  “Presumptuous!” Cole exclaimed, delighted. Those boxer briefs had taunted him long enough.

  “Hopeful,” Leo corrected, lifting his hips so Cole could finally, finally clap eyes and hands and mouth on all of him. Leo’s dick was as beautiful as the rest of him, thick and hard, wet at the tip. “It’s been a long time—”

  He cut off on a high-pitched syllable as Cole took him in his mouth. He tasted as good as he looked, and he held completely still as Cole devoured him, pushing himself as far as he could go, until the head of Leo’s cock bumped the back of his throat. Then farther.

  “Oh God,” Leo groaned, his thighs splaying open.

  Cole ran his hands up the insides of his legs, caressing, and Leo opened more. Damn it, he should’ve grabbed the lube. He pulled back, licking his lips, teasing his thumbs along the crease of Leo’s groin. “Can you reach the drawer?”

  Leo’s chest hitched with his breath as he reached over his head and slid the drawer open. He pulled out a brand-new bottle of lube and an unopened box of condoms. “Guess I’m not the only one who was presumptuous.”

  “Hopeful,” Cole teased, biting lightly at the inside of Leo’s thigh as Leo dropped the lube near his hip. “Maybe determined.”

  “Horny,” Leo said as Cole put his lips back on his dick, reaching for the lube.

  “Now who’s putting words in whose mouth?” Cole murmured against the base of Leo’s shaft.

  Leo threaded his fingers into Cole’s hair. “Trust me, words are not what I want to put in your mouth.”

  Cole licked the head of his cock, slow and showy. “What’s stopping you?”

  Nothing, now: he pushed Cole’s head down. Cole went, humming in satisfaction, keeping his mouth just slightly too soft to satisfy. He trailed his left hand over Leo’s thigh, cradled his balls. With his right, he opened the lube—thoughtfully unsealed before they’d left the house—and wet his fingers.

  Leo’s dick leaked steadily, his hand a welcome weight on the back of Cole’s neck. And when Cole teased a finger between his cheeks and slid it across his hole, he made a keening sound Cole would be jerking off to for the rest of his life. His own cock throbbed in sympathy.

  Leo let go of Cole’s hair when Cole slid a finger inside him, instead fisting his hands in Cole’s sheets, his biceps straining, legs flexing. Cole let his cock fall from his lips so he could concentrate on the whole of him, splayed out as a feast for Cole’s senses: Cole could have devoured him with his eyes, or his hands, or his mouth, but the soft whines spilling from Leo’s lips were just as delicious, and he smelled—sweet but earthy, like a garden in a rainstorm.

  “Cole,” Leo moaned, and Cole suddenly realized he had three fingers curled against Leo’s prostate and had been massaging it, wringing out each beautiful sound. “Are you going to fuck me sometime this year? Because it has been a long four months, and I don’t know if I can last four more.”

  Right. Cole carefully withdrew his fingers, relishing the quiet shudder of Leo’s body. He pressed a kiss to the inside of Leo’s thigh and lifted his head to search for the condoms, only to find Leo had one waiting.

  “So it’s like that,” Cole said, but when he reached out to take it, Leo bent his knee and nudged Cole closer so he could do it himself. The first touch of Leo’s hand on him had him biting his lip to hold in a gasp; Leo’s grip was warm and knowing and firm. He stroked Cole root to tip, root to tip, then smeared the fluid at the head before rolling the condom down his length.

  Leo arched an eyebrow. “No smartass remarks now?”

  “Gnnh,” Cole agreed. “On your back?”

  Leo nodded frantically, and Cole grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed and shoved it under Leo’s raised hips. “Good?”

  “Could be better,” he said breathily, and wrapped his leg around Cole’s hip, digging his heel into his ass.

  Cole didn’t—couldn’t—argue. He knee-walked closer, leaned down, braced himself on one arm. And then he pushed in.

  Heat overcame him, bleeding from his cock to his balls to the small of his back, settling in his gut. Cole squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for control. Leo’s body held him just right, from the clench of his ass to the cradle of his thighs to the hands that had come up to card through his hair again, and Leo arced into him, straining for more, and any tenuous grasp of self-possession Cole might have had fled.

  He snapped his hips, lowering his head until their faces touched. Right away Leo tilted his head back so his breath filled Cole’s ear, and Cole shivered. His hips snapped again of their own accord, drawing a punched-out cry from Leo. Then Leo pulled Cole’s mouth to his in a wet kiss that made the hair on the back of Cole’s neck stand up.

  “Yeah,” Leo
murmured into Cole’s mouth, the whisper lingering on Cole’s skin. He cupped the hinge of Cole’s jaw, thumb brushing Cole’s ear.

  Yeah, Cole agreed, and fell apart, thrusting wildly as Leo cried out beneath him, sliding his other hand down to dig his nails into the flesh over Cole’s hips.

  “Yeah,” Leo said again, raising his hips to meet Cole, urging him on. Cole couldn’t lift his head, too overcome, but he shifted his weight to his left arm and slid his right between them, encircling Leo’s cock. “Cole—Cole, fuck,” and wetness spilled over Cole’s fist, and Leo clenched, and his nails dug into Cole’s back hard, and Cole came, biting his lip to keep his words from spilling out.

  When he could breathe enough to move without fainting, Cole pulled out and rolled carefully onto his side, keeping his legs close to Leo’s, not wanting to lose the contact.

  Leo let go of Cole’s waist, but not his face, just holding him as they breathed in the intimate quiet. Their noses touched. Cole ached with it, with how much he felt for Leo and how much Leo must feel for him. He had wanted this his whole life; having it felt almost unreal.

  Leo kissed him again, slow, without agenda. Cole melted into it, wondering at the etiquette: Was it rude to try to pull Leo closer when his available hand was covered in… Leo?

  It turned out he didn’t have to decide; a second later Leo shivered, and not in the pleasant way, and drew away from the kiss. “I would love to stay like this all night, but, uh, this is getting cold.” He gestured.

  “You look like a really muscular overfrosted donut,” Cole observed before he could stop himself.

  “Well, there’s something I’ll never eat again.” Leo made a teasing face. “Let me go clean up.”

  Cole wanted to tell him no, to keep him in his bed and get a washcloth and a towel for him, but realistically, no washcloth was going to cut it. On impulse, he kissed Leo’s nose. “All right, but hurry back.”

  The shower started in the bathroom, and Cole took a few seconds to clean himself up too. He was debating changing the sheets when the water turned off again and Leo appeared in the doorway.

  “C’mere,” Cole said, sliding into bed and patting the sheet beside him.

  Leo obeyed, and Cole pulled up the blankets before turning out the light and curling his body toward Leo.

  “This isn’t going to be awkward tomorrow, is it?” Leo asked quietly after a moment, and Cole realized his advantage. He knew what would break the curse, and he knew what had broken it.

  “Are you going to sneak out of bed and pretend this never happened?”

  “No.”

  “Regret getting involved with another obscure and avoid me in the morning?”

  “No.”

  “Steal my candy stash and run off with Niamh in the middle of the night?”

  Leo snickered. “No.”

  Cole curled up a little. “Deny my need for postsex cuddling and break my heart?”

  The sheets rustled and the bed dipped as Leo wormed closer, until he was close enough to coax Cole to turn onto his other side. Then he spooned up behind him, linked his hand with Cole’s, and settled both over Cole’s sternum. “Definitely not.”

  Something in Cole’s chest loosened, and he closed his eyes, content. “Then I think we’ll manage fine.”

  He fell asleep feeling Leo smile into his ear.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE next few days might technically have exceeded the textbook definition of managing fine. For thirty-six hours they could barely keep their hands off each other, save for necessary breaks to eat and breathe. Monday and Tuesday were a variation on the theme, with work thrown into the mix. Reality reasserted itself Wednesday, though, when Leo left his towel on the bathroom floor and heard Cole cursing through the walls as he dressed for work.

  “Sorry!” he half shouted back, only to turn around and find Cole holding the offending item, not quite managing a full glower. “I’ll do better,” he promised.

  Cole shook his head and the rest of his scowl turned contemplative. “You really hate laundry, huh?”

  “Uh… yeah.” They’d never talked about it, but it must be obvious to someone he lived with—someone whose closet space he’d been borrowing for weeks.

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll do laundry”—Leo debated getting on his knees and blowing him right then and there—“if you keep feeding me on a regular basis.” Cole shrugged. “Cooking’s too much like work to do it every day.”

  “Deal,” Leo agreed immediately.

  Cole shoved the damp towel into his arms and kissed his cheek. “Just make sure you get what’s dirty in the laundry basket next time.”

  All things told, that seemed more than fair.

  SATURDAY morning Leo woke up very late with Cole starfished on top of him and a bladder that demanded to be emptied. Still, he lazed in bed, reveling in a comfort he’d never take for granted again and a giddy, bubbly sensation in his chest. His body’s satisfied aches reminded him the curse was thoroughly broken and had been for a week, but he contemplated waking Cole up to double-check anyway, just to be thorough. Eventually his bladder prevailed and he slipped out of bed to use the bathroom.

  He must’ve woken Cole up, because the bed was empty when he returned. He borrowed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt from Cole’s closet, concerned the downstairs curtains might be open, and found Cole in the kitchen, making hopeful eyes at the kettle. When he heard Leo, he turned around; his eyes were still half-closed and his hair was flat on one side and he was very warm against Leo’s chest, which he snuggled into immediately.

  “Hi,” Leo said, folding his arms around him.

  “Hi,” Cole said into Leo’s shoulder. After a deep breath he looked up, smiling, and touched the olives between Leo’s pecs. “Nice shirt.”

  Leo grinned, the tips of his ears burning. “Thanks. I thought it was appropriate.”

  Cole went pink too and leaned their foreheads together. Then the kettle finished boiling and he made grabby hands at the coffee canister. “You want?”

  “Please,” Leo said, only half referring to the caffeine. “Breakfast?”

  “Pancakes?”

  “Sure.” The fridge still harbored a handful of strawberries on the verge of furriness; he could slice those and sugar them as a fancier alternative to syrup. He opened the fridge and took out milk, berries, butter, eggs. Cole didn’t bake much as far as Leo could tell, but he was pretty sure he’d seen some flour in the pantry, sandwiched between the enormous bags of sugar.

  Something in the kitchen buzzed. “Is that your cell?” he asked, sticking his head into the pantry. There—flour, baking powder, salt. He juggled them in his arms and looked over his shoulder at Cole.

  “Yeah. Nothing important.” Cole slipped his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Just a reminder.”

  A reminder about what? Leo set the ingredients on the counter and took a bowl out of a drawer. He was reaching for an egg when Niamh squawked, “Your cell phone’s ringing,” and he just about jumped out of his skin.

  Clutching his chest, Leo stumbled back a step. “Jeez, Niamh. Can we get you a bell or something?”

  Niamh alit on the back of a kitchen chair. “Sorry. But your phone is ringing. At least, I assume the phone in the jeans in the hallway is yours.”

  Leo was not going to let a talking bird make him blush again, neither at the reminder that he wasn’t supposed to leave his clothes on the floor nor the fact that he and Cole kept tearing each other’s clothes off. He did need to answer his phone, though. But he’d only taken two steps out of the kitchen when Cole said, “Leo?”

  He stopped and turned, and Cole tapped his fingers against the small print underneath the olive motif, his eyes soft but sparkling. “Olive you too.”

  The kiss was still tingling against Leo’s lips when he retrieved his phone—down to 10 percent battery life—and checked his messages.

  Liz from the hospital, asking him to call back. Leo hit the contact and tucked the phone between his
ear and shoulder.

  Normally it took a few minutes to get through, but today Liz picked up on the second ring, sounding frazzled. “Leo, thank God. I know it’s your day off, but Marco has the flu and Fiona just called in—she got in a car accident and thinks her leg’s broken. I haven’t been able to get ahold of Jimmy. Jess is on vacation in Florida. Is there any chance you can come in for a shift? Eight hours, double overtime.”

  Leo looked at the inviting mess of Cole’s bed, the telltale scatter of clothes over the floor. He could hear Cole singing off-key as he made coffee. Autumn sunshine streamed in the windows, suffusing the bedroom with warmth. He desperately wanted to tell Cole to put the coffee away and drag him back up here to shut out the world for as long as they could. “There’s no one else you can call?”

  “Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.”

  Leo closed his eyes and allowed himself one heartbeat of self-pity. Then he started looking for clean pants.

  When he returned downstairs, Cole took one look at him—clothed—and put one of the mugs back in the cupboard. He took down a travel mug instead. “Duty calls?” he said a little forlornly.

  “Even with me there, they’re going to be shorthanded.” Leo put his hands on Cole’s waist and drew him in for a short kiss. “I’ll make it up to you later?”

  Cole pretended to consider it. “Hmm.” Then he tilted his head back in a wordless demand for another kiss. Leo could get used to that—had already gotten used to it, it seemed, since he obliged without thinking. “Okay. I’ll start brainstorming.”

  Leo laughed. “Sounds good.”

  Cole took a half step back and shoved his hands in his pajama pockets. “But take Niamh with you again.” Leo had done that the whole previous week, because—“The curse might be broken, but we still don’t know what Roman’s plan was or why he was at the hospital the other day. He might try something else if he finds out his first plan didn’t work.”