by Riley Rivers
Right. Right, this was a date. Because for some reason Chris was interested in him without being influenced by Ryan’s aura. Which meant there was a chance Chris could genuinely want him.
Which meant Ryan couldn’t mess this up.
“Yeah. Yes. Thank you.”
Another smile, and maybe Ryan was reading into it that it seemed on the gentler side, but Chris just inclined his head. “Great. Let’s go.”
They made their way up to the counter and Chris didn’t even reach out to put a hand on Ryan’s back or shoulder. It was almost jarring, to be so close to someone and not have them try to touch him. He was grateful for it as much as he ached for the touch, and then he had to fight down a growl at how stupid he was being.
Chris gestured for him to order first, so he got a hot chocolate with a shot of caramel. Comfort and warmth and sweet in a drink, all things he chased after even if it did nothing to actually help the hunger churning within him. Eating regular food used to help alleviate it somewhat. Let him last longer in between feedings. Now it barely did a thing, and with the nausea he dealt with all the time, he’d stopped enjoying how food tasted weeks ago. He still tried to eat to keep up the habit, and because he knew it had helped before, but...
It was startling to realize that this hot chocolate would be the first thing he’d eaten in probably four or five days.
“Did you want something?”
Ryan blinked, then scowled upon realizing he’d zoned out again. Way to already start ruining the date. “Sorry?”
Chris waved a hand at the pastry display. “I think I’m going to get a muffin. Did you want something?”
Yeah, probably a good idea. “A muffin would be good. Thank you.”
“Flavor?”
“Um, blueberry?”
Chris grinned at him. “That’s my favorite too.”
Ryan tried not to fidget as he waited for Chris to pay. He was antsy to get back to the table. Sit down, out of the way of people. The shop had been on the emptier side when he’d come in, but a line had started to form behind them.
“I guess we had good timing,” Chris said, as they got their drinks and little plates of pastry. “It’s getting busier.”
“Yeah.”
And then Ryan couldn’t think of a single thing to say as they walked back to their table. God, he was such a mess.
He curled his hands around his cup, trying to sink into the warmth, and attempted to come up with some topic of conversation. “So, uh. You’re… new. To Firefly. Right? Bouncing there, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Chris said. “Although I won’t be there for very much longer.”
“You won’t?”
Chris shook his head. “I’m only bouncing as a favor to the owner. I’ve got a dayjob that I’m plenty happy with.”
Small talk. Okay. Ryan could do small talk. “What is it?”
“I’m a tattoo artist. I own and run Skin and Ink, the studio on fifth.”
“Oh.” Ryan found himself looking at Chris’s arms, covered in colorful details. “Do you like it?”
“Love it.” Chris smiled. “I’ve always been artsy. A doodler, you know? And my skin was my favorite thing to color when I was a kid. Drove my parents nuts. I even taught myself to write and draw with both hands, so both arms could get equal attention.”
“Wow,” Ryan said, honestly impressed. “That’s really cool.”
“Thanks. Tattooing is a way for me to be artistic and learn and grow as an artist. I get to work with all kinds of interesting people and create pieces they’re really happy with. It’s basically my dream job.”
“That’s awesome. I… I’m guessing you design your own tattoos then?”
“Yep.” Chris held out his left arm, palm up, showing the underside of his forearm. He pointed to a sun and moon in a stylized yin-and-yang design. “This was my first. I didn’t ink it myself, but the design is all mine.”
“What do you mean, you didn’t ink it yourself?” Ryan asked, unthinkingly reaching out. He kept himself from touching, but just barely, hand instead hovering awkwardly over the skin.
“You can touch it,” Chris said. “I don’t mind.”
Should he? It wasn’t unwelcome if Chris gave him permission, and Chris was still clearly operating under his own power. But would it be too much if Ryan did make contact? Just one touch might unravel his control. Maybe he shouldn’t risk it right now. But on the other hand, if he didn’t touch, would Chris take it as a rejection?
“Here,” Chris said, gently taking his hand and brushing Ryan’s fingers over some flowers that were circling Chris’s left wrist. Ryan startled, almost pulling away, but he found himself calming a little, stroking over the flower pattern on Chris’s skin. “See? Just ink. Just me.”
“Oh,” Ryan said shakily. Chris was so warm, and it had been so long since he’d had just touch. Simple touch that wasn’t anything else. And Ryan… Ryan was okay, he wasn’t losing control. It was okay. “Yeah.” He trailed his fingers over a petal before dragging it up to the sun and moon.
“And to answer your question, I did most of my tattoos myself.”
Ryan blinked up at him. “Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not that uncommon for artists to ink themselves. We’re our own canvases, you know? And it’s cool, being my own walking portfolio.”
“It’s, yeah, that’s really cool,” Ryan said, tracing a pale green feather higher up on Chris’s arm. His eyes widened as he realized what he was doing, and he hurriedly pulled away. Too much. Taking too much. He pulled his aura even tighter around himself, fighting down the bile that threatened to rise up at the effort. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Chris said, smile gentle. “I already said I don’t mind.” He cleared his throat, then said, “What about you? How do you spend your time?”
“I, uh, I design and run websites,” Ryan said. “Technically freelance, but I have recurring contracts with a lot of clients.” It wasn’t bad work. He liked it well enough, and it also meant that he could work from home. He’d learned that the less human interaction he had, the better.
“Oh, yeah?” Chris grinned. He grinned an awful lot, and Ryan wasn’t doing much at all to deserve it. “That’s awesome. I have a placeholder website for the studio, but it sucks. It’s basically a single page with our address and phone number. People keep telling me to make it nice and showcase my portfolio, but I just never get around to it. Mostly I stick with posting pictures to Instagram.”
Eager to keep the conversation going and more than a little interested, Ryan leaned forward. “Could I see? Your Instagram, I mean.”
“Sure.” Chris pulled out his phone and scooted his chair over so they were slightly more side-by-side. Ryan had to work to keep his breathing even and not press into Chris’s warmth. At least the pictures Chris pulled up to show him were a distraction.
A good one, too. Chris’s Instagram was full of amazing pieces of art. Chris pointed out his favorites and answered all the questions Ryan had, and seemed delighted when Ryan complimented him on his colorwork and shading.
“Sounds like you know something about that,” Chris said. “You’re an artist too, huh?”
Ryan ducked his head. “I guess? Sort of. For my work it’s more colors and style and figuring out how to match that to what my clients want, especially in turns of branding. I sometimes design logos though.”
“Hey, that’s pretty cool.”
“Thanks.” A hard shiver ran through him, and he took a hurried sip of his hot chocolate. He probably should have dressed warmer, but he already felt stupid wearing a hoodie around in June.
“Are you cold?”
His gaze darted back up to Chris, who was watching him with concern. Ryan licked his lips. “No. Sorry. I’m fi–” someone bumped into the back of his chair, and Ryan barely stopped himself from leaping out of his seat.
“Sorry about that,” the guy said, putting a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.
“S’okay,” Ryan muttered, starin
g down at his cup.
The guy gave his shoulder a squeeze, thumb coming up to brush against Ryan’s neck, and Ryan froze under his touch. No, not now. Surely he wasn’t—his aura was under control. Chris wasn’t being affected. Was he? He peered up at Chris through his bangs. Chris didn’t look entranced. He looked kind of upset, truth be told. Had Ryan messed up already?
“Hey buddy,” Chris said, voice cool. “Maybe you can take your hand off my friend?”
“Right, sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you and your friend.” There was a subtle emphasis placed on the word ‘friend,’ the voice sounding almost familiar, and it startled Ryan enough to glance up at the guy. But he didn’t recognize him. Dark hair. A smirk accented by a lip ring.
Just another stranger falling under his spell.
Chris cleared his throat. The guy chuckled. “Sorry,” he said again. He gave Ryan’s shoulder another squeeze, and then his hand slid away as he turned to go.
Ryan brought his drink to his mouth again, hoping that Chris didn’t notice he was shaking.
“Hey,” Chris asked quietly, “You okay?”
Ryan swallowed. “Yeah.”
What else could he say?
***
This wasn’t working. The chatting was nice, since Chris was enjoying learning a little more about Ryan. But he kept having to remind himself that this wasn’t a real date. The point was to get Ryan comfortable enough to bring up the whole magic thing. And Ryan was clearly having a hard time opening up. They’d take a step forward and then Ryan would pull back. Chris had hoped that talking about his tattoos would help conversation—and maybe that touch would ease Ryan a little.
And it clearly had, before Ryan had jerked away as if burned and then promptly looked like he was going to be sick.
It probably wasn’t helping that the coffee shop was getting busier. Ryan seemed to only be getting more nervous. Chris didn’t think it was him necessarily; Ryan wasn’t shying away from conversation or trying to subtly move away from the space they shared. And he was making an effort to talk.
Of course, then some fucking asshole had bumped into Ryan’s chair and then touched him like it was nothing—like he was allowed to. While Ryan sat there frozen stiff and miserable and resigned, aura curling and uncurling in tiny, unhappy tendrils. One tiny little strand of purple had wrapped around the wrist of the hand touching Ryan’s shoulder, as if desperately trying to cling on, but the rest of him was actively shrinking away.
Chris didn’t know a ton about incubus magic, but he knew that it reacted to existing desire. The aura was most heightened when an incubus was having sex of course, creating a feedback loop of pleasure between the participants, but if an incubus focused and released their aura, anyone attracted to them would feel a little more willing to act on that attraction depending on their own internal limits. Usually it meant a person would approach the incubus, strike up a conversation, whatever, instead of not approaching at all. Essentially it was just a way for an incubus to discover people who were into them and see where that might go.
But those who were the more entitled type could interpret that pull as an open offer to take what they wanted.
It stood to reason that since Ryan was so weak, his aura would try to encourage a way for him to feed and hone in on people willing to take—whether Ryan himself was interested or not. But god was that also fucking awful.
“Hey,” Chris said, lighting on an idea. “You want to maybe get out of here?”
“Oh,” Ryan said. “I… okay. What did you have in mind?” He looked part hopeful, mostly trepidatious, and Chris realized that his question could easily be misconstrued. He hurried to explain.
“Well I told you, my studio’s on fifth, yeah? Would you maybe be interested in seeing it? I’ve got my hard copy portfolios there too, if you wanted to take a look.”
“Oh,” Ryan said again, but this time it sounding a lot brighter. “Yeah, that sounds nice. Sure.”
“Great! Let’s go.” He stood up, tamping down the urge to help steady Ryan when he wobbled out of his own chair.
Ryan seemed to breathe a little easier once they were out of the coffee shop, but Chris made it a point to keep to a slow, easy walking pace as he chatted a little about how he started his studio. Ryan asked a question here and there, but he had gone silent and trembling by the time Chris was unlocking his door and showing him inside. “Why don’t we sit down,” Chris suggested.
Ryan nodded and followed Chris over to one of the low leather couches he had in the waiting area. He stumbled a few feet away from it, and Chris reached out without thinking, pressing a hand against the small of Ryan’s back, the other curling around his arm, as he helped him sit down.
The sound Ryan made at the touch was wounded, and he pressed closer into Chris’s side, before he seized up. “Sorry—” he choked out, starting to pull away. “Sorry—”
Chris wasn’t having it. Ryan was hurting, that much was clear, and even with how much he was struggling, he wasn’t pushing for anything that might ease how hard things currently were for him. “It’s okay,” he said, going for soothing as he wrapped an arm around Ryan’s shoulders and pulled him in closer. “You’re okay.”
Ryan shook against him, eyes closing for a long moment before he forced them back open, looking dazedly up at him. “You don’t… you don’t… it’s okay?”
God. What had happened to him? “Very okay,” Chris assured him. Then, hoping it was the right thing to say, he added, “I like touching you. If that’s something you don’t mind.”
Which was a little too true. Forget that Chris wanted to offer help and comfort, Ryan was cute and fit against him perfectly. Cuddling was definitely not a hardship. In fact, Chris probably liked the feeling of Ryan in his arms a little too much, considering the state Ryan was in. But Ryan needed something.
Ryan’s eyes were wide and slightly unfocused. “If I don’t mind,” he said faintly.
Chris felt a tiny tug, and glanced down to find a purple tendril of aura wrapped around his wrist, so thin and pale it was barely a wisp. He had to fight a scowl at seeing it, because only the worst kind of asshole would be reacting to a pull that weak. And Chris, with the warding talismans he had tattooed on his body, wouldn’t be affected even if Ryan consciously turned on his aura full-force. But he wasn’t. He was so starving that his magic was frantically struggling for anything it could, but Ryan was fighting it tooth and nail.
But why?
Now was the time to ask. They were safe and private in his studio.
“Hey—” he started to say, when Ryan gasped, hand spasming on Chris’s knee before he pitched forward.
Chris scrambled to catch him, pulling Ryan’s limp body fully into his lap, his worry skyrocketing as he watched Ryan’s aura flicker like static around him. “Ryan? Ryan!”
Not sure what else do to, Chris shifted his hold on Ryan so that he could free his left hand and press it to his right bicep, over his phoenix tattoo, gathering up the energy it contained. But when he tried to imbue the energy into Ryan, his aura parted around it like oil to water. Fuck, why? Why wasn’t he able to accept the magical energy?
Chris cursed as he realized. Of course. Incubus. Ryan was receptive to touch. It was one thing for him to grow calmer while he was awake and stroking a finger over Chris’s chamomile chain. But unconscious in the state he was in, he’d be too weak to absorb energy that wasn’t delivered properly.
Properly for Ryan.
“God, I’m sorry,” Chris whispered, before bending to take Ryan’s mouth with his own.
Chapter Four
Ryan was floating, feeling peaceful for once in his life. He was being held, wrapped up tight in warm, strong arms, and kissing a soft, willing mouth. It felt so good he wanted to cry, wanted to push closer, drinking in the feeling of finally being warm and wanted. Soft undercurrents of desire began to roll through him, but they didn’t hurt the way they usually did, didn’t feel as though they were going to tear him to pieces if he didn�
��t give into them. It was okay. It was okay, in this dream he could, he could give in just a little, be weak for just a moment. It’d been so long since he’d had any sort of comfort, even in his dreams.
He nuzzled in closer, hips rolling lazily as his hands reached to stroke skin, but then the warmth started to move back. He whimpered and tried to follow, distantly registering the sound of someone saying his name.
He opened his eyes and stared right into Chris’s. Who he was straddling, arms thrown around his neck. Chris had his hands curled around Ryan’s shoulders as if he were trying to hold him still and get some distance.
Ryan scrambled away, nearly falling off the couch. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. He felt better. Still light-headed, but way less about to pass out. But he couldn’t remember what had happened, and he’d ended up in Chris’s lap and—and Chris was looking at him, clearly upset. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Chris’s eyes widened before he frowned. “Ryan, it’s okay, don’t worry. Don’t apologize for–”
“For climbing into your lap and kissing you?” His voice cracked as he said it. It was worse that he couldn’t remember how he’d done it. Pushed himself on Chris, like he pushed himself on everyone, and now not only was he not in control of his aura but he couldn’t trust his own fucking body?
“I kissed you,” Chris said. Firmly, like he wanted to make sure Ryan knew it.
Even worse. Chris thought it had been his idea. Ryan had managed to thrall him after all. He closed his eyes, utterly ashamed.
“Ryan,” Chris said quietly. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t know what else to do.”
What was Chris talking about? “What else to do?”
“You fainted. I was trying to give you some energy,” Chris said matter-of-factly. “I’m a witch.”
Ryan’s eyes snapped open. What?
“I know you’re an incubus,” Chris continued, still quiet. “And I know you’re not eating. I don’t know why, but I want to help you. Please let me help you.”