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It all started like any other day.
Busy.
Jack flicked his wrist, scrolling through the data on the holo-screen. Opposing views on the biology of cognition, network theory and alternate neurological applications, various schematics. There was even a random recipe for something called ‘9 Juan Juan tacos’ tucked in there. Jack flagged and logged it away in his brain space for later creation and consumption.
The point was, there was an absolute assload of info to sift through. But Jack couldn’t complain. Not really. Not when he had been waiting way too fucking long for Cybernetics to actually do something with the goddamn project. Maybe employee turnover would improve a little this quarter. Who knew.
Nothing managed to divert his attention until one of the secondary holo-screens gave a happy sounding little chirp. Jack glanced over as Rhys entered the room. He was gripping a takeout bag in one hand and balancing two coffees in the other. His clothing was all black and well fitted. The shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at his tattoos. He looked like he should. He looked like Jack’s right hand.
It suited him.
But also, just looking at Rhys reminded Jack of just how preoccupied he had been lately. It had been days since Jack had kissed him last. Touched him even. And Jack frowned as he registered the mess strung out around him, i.e., the evidence proving he’d spent the entire weekend working.
That Rhys didn’t call or drop in was interesting and somewhat… agitating? Rationally, Jack knew Rhys was operating under the assumption that work came first. Which, okay, that was true-ish to an extent. Considering the level of attention Jack had instantly latched onto this, he got it. But the implications behind it were more than a little off-putting. Worse yet was how just thinking about setting the record straight left Jack feeling flayed open.
As usual, he decided it was best to play it normal. Unbothered. They had a good thing going, and the details would fall into place whenever they fell into place.
“Hey, sunshine,” Jack said. “Have a nice weekend? Missed having you around looking all pretty for me.”
The corner of his mouth slowly curled up, and just like that, somehow, Jack knew Rhys didn’t hold any of it against him. Then Rhys raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe I was here, and you just didn’t notice,” he said.
“Rude.” Jack shoved some shit out of the way so Rhys could set everything down. The takeout was probably some conglomeration of awesomeness for Jack to stuff into his face, but first things first.
“You really think I wouldn’t have noticed you bending over and shit in those tight-ass pants of yours?” Jack asked in all seriousness.
“Maybe I wasn’t wearing pants.”
The split-second Rhys’ hands were free, Jack snagged him about the waist and dragged him close. He went willingly, throwing a leg over Jack’s lap and straddling him in the huge chair.
“You are sassy today,” Jack said, running his hands up Rhys’ sides. “You mad at me, kitten?”
“I brought you breakfast, didn’t I?”
“Yeeeeeah, but did you do it because you wanted to be sweet for me?” Jack leaned forward and nibbled gently at Rhys’ jawline. Fingers slid around to the back of Jack’s neck and up into his hair, and he sighed. “Or were you just doing your job?”
“Bringing you coffee is my job. The food is because you probably haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t absolute junk or pure sugar since I left Friday.”
Jack tilted his face down and kissed him lazily, pulling Rhys’ bottom lip into his mouth and sucking on it. It was smooth and tasted faintly of coffee.
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jack said, mostly into Rhys’ mouth.
“You’re in a far better mood than I was expecting,” Rhys murmured.
Jack splayed his hand out across Rhys’ back. He traced the ridges of Rhys’ spine with his thumb as Jack looked up at him. The truth drifted through his mind. He let it out into the world without care.
“I’d blame the injectors, but I’ve got you in my lap.”
Rhys blushed; Jack grinned.
“What’d you bring me?” he asked.
“Waffle Champion.”
“Have I ever told you how perfect you are?”
Rhys kissed him once more. The familiar ease of it felt better than the act itself. Then he slid off Jack’s lap.
“It’s been a few days, but I’ll forgive you for that,” Rhys said.
Jack slapped his ass before digging into the bag. “Thanks, babe. I’ll make it up to you tonight.”
Rhys had brought his favorite dish from the place: chicken and waffles with a side of cheese fries. He made a noise of satisfaction then poured some honey over the chicken.
“You look best when you’re in my bed anyway,” Jack heard himself saying.
“Yeah?” Rhys asked, pulling himself up to sit on the desk.
“Yeah,” Jack said, unable to stop. “It should be a regular part of your day-to-day.”
Jack lifted the whole ass thing like a taco and took a bite. Felt the rush of sweet and savory spill across his tongue and decided the universe was a wonderful place.
“What? Hanging out in your bed?”
“And sleeping there and getting railed there by yours truly. It’s a very diverse piece of furniture, princess. One I like to have you in as much as possible,” Jack said, mouth half-full.
Rhys nodded slowly. As Jack studied him, he could see the tension around his eyes and in the way his mouth was set. The doubt that there was substance to what Jack had said. The possibility that Rhys would say the wrong thing and embarrass himself.
“I’m sure we can figure something out,” Rhys said absently. Then reached and lifted the Eridian artifact from where it was half-buried underneath some crumpled reports.
It was shaped like an elongated diamond with one flat side like a random chunk had been razed off. Around that facet, the air seemed to shift and move. It sort of sucked to look directly at it. Jack had that container for the damn thing around there somewhere.
“Would it help if I took this down to R&D?” Rhys asked.
“Not really,” Jack told him, and he meant it. Sure, he had forgotten about it once this avalanche of data had fallen into his lap, but the initial delay wasn’t Rhys’ problem anyway.
Jack’s relationship with Angel was tenuous at best. Avoiding her would only make it worse. After years of treating her like a means to an end, Jack felt he was lucky she had decided to stick around as it was. Whether it was only the protection he offered from others who would do the same or the ability to search for answers about what she was, Jack didn’t care. It was better than the alternatives.
Two reports and one gently used napkin later, Jack found the container, then stretched his shoulders. “I’ll take care of it after I’m done eating,” he said. “I’m stiff and not in the fun wa—“
Rhys cursed and dropped the artifact. It hit the ground with a reverberating thud that was at odds with its appearance. The quip forming in Jack’s mouth died when Rhys looked down at his hand and visibly blanched.
A cold creeping sensation slowly bled over Jack. He grabbed Rhys’ hand, turning it over and flattening it. The center of his palm was black. As if made from hardened lava instead of flesh and bone.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. Something gave when I held it a certain way, and it pricked me,” Rhys said, speaking quickly, obviously struggling to stay calm. “Felt like a hypo. Or something.”
“Does it hurt?” Jack asked.
“It burns, but like the cold burns. Like when that cryo prototype misfired.”
“We’ll get you to Medical. Send a message to Angel about this.”
Rhys’ ECHOeye instantly lit up, and Jack smoothed his thumbs around the wound. The skin was ice cold. Jack could feel the barest tremor running through the limb.
“It seems to be fading a little. Hopefully, it was just a defense—”
Rhys must have felt it the split-second Jack saw it because he flinched. His metal fingers spasming with an audible clicking sound against the desk, and Rhys pointedly turned his head away.
Jack felt his body break into a cold sweat.
It wasn’t just a surface wound. Whatever it was, it had hit Rhys’ bloodstream.
There were black tendrils beneath his skin. Jack could literally see the poison in his veins. It looked like it was corroding Rhys’ blood as it slowly traveled up his arm.
Without a word, Jack stood and tore off his button-down. He could use the sleeve as a tourniquet. The fabric should be wide and thick enough to stop the blood flow. He would add his belt into the mix for good measure.
Rhys would lose the limb anyway.
He hissed as Jack torqued on his arm but didn’t complain or struggle. Only when Jack was finished did Rhys finally look at him. Jack stared back with what was surely an equally traumatized expression. He was riding high on the fear of the moment. The utter terror fresh in his veins was as clear as whatever was inside of Rhys’.
“Okay,” Jack said. “Medical can come to us.”
“Probably Cybernetics too.”
“Yeah.” Jack swallowed, smiled a little. “Having two robot arms will be pretty badass.”
“I’ve always wanted to bench press you,” he said, but the argent glow of his ECHOeye never came.
Amidst the panic, Jack had missed it. Rhys had already accepted whatever was happening to him. His expression was sad and resigned. It was as if—
As if there was no stopping it.
Jack yanked the fabric of Rhys’ shirt aside. A black web was interspersed among blue of his tattoos— the skin itself, impossibly white and cold under his fingertips.
It felt like hours passed as Jack tried to process what he was seeing.
There was a burning sensation in the back of his throat.
“Shit, Rhys.”
He gave a crooked smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
Jack could feel him fading. The unnatural shift of his weight and the loosening of the metal fingers on his arm. He palmed Rhys’ neck, fingers pressing into his nape in an attempt to help keep him steady.
“It’ll be fine,” Jack insisted. “Trust me.”
His mouth opened, but whatever Rhys was going to say broke off as he jerked in Jack’s hold. Rhys’ heart rate skyrocketed in the palm of his hand. Jack didn’t let himself loosen his grip on the tourniquet.
He couldn’t.
“Hold on,” Jack demanded, grip tightening on the leather, feeling the pain of it in his fingers. “Stay with me.”
But Rhys gave a ragged gasp, and then his heart gave up anyway.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Time continued on relentlessly.
There was no way to speed it up or slow it down or go back and stop something from happening. Jack thought about it though, what he would have done differently. It kept his head busy. Allowed him to pretend he had some say in the nightmare scenario in which he found himself.
Jack had wanted. Simple as that. He had laid awake in bed one night and thought about how he wanted to take Rhys apart with his teeth. To taste all his secrets and examine all his worries. Separate out Rhys’ dreams from reality with his tongue.
Rhys had wanted it too. Jack knew he did, and that had been more than enough reason to have him.
But if he had left it alone, if Jack had never blurred the lines between work and play, and then made it personal… Maybe this never would have happened.
Maybe Rhys would be fine, sitting happily at his desk with his stupid skinny ties tucked into his stupid skinny pants. Not laying in a dark quarantine observation room with his back to the glass, somehow still breathing when by all rights he shouldn’t be.
One beat per minute.
And still slowing.
Jack wasn’t sure what was worse. The stillness that felt like an eternity between heartbeats or turning off the displays and not knowing if it was still beating at all.
Rhys’ body temperature was frighteningly low too. Within the range of hypothermia, in fact, and dropping— right along with his blood pressure. Despite what could be interpreted as the early signs of starvation, Rhys wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink anything either. But most concerningly, he had no interest in cooperating. Beyond hooking in so his vitals could be uselessly monitored, Rhys just wanted to be left alone.
Jack would have accepted Rhys just didn’t fucking know what could stop himself from deteriorating if he seemed to care about it. But he didn’t. Surviving did not appear to be something Rhys had wanted. He seemed to be existing solely because his body had refused to shut down.
Jack hated it.
He hated it more than whatever had happened to him. Of which, Jack was doing what he could to piece together, whether his Eridian artifacts and technology expert, i.e., Angel, approved of it or not.
“You know you can’t just throw money at every problem that comes your way,” she said.
Jack balled his left hand into a fist so tight he could feel his nails biting into his palm and the shape of his bones under his fingertips.
“First of all, sometimes it’s the only thing I can do, and second, I’ve never heard you complain about it until now.”
That was one-hundred-percent not the strategic thing to say here, but Jack was a little… done with everything. The situation where Rhys probably knew exactly what he needed aside, sending a team to that backwater shithole on Eden-6 where the hell crystal had been found made perfect sense. But the number of topics Jack avoided with Angel just to not argue included Rhys.
They barely knew how to speak to each other unless it was related to Eridians or Hyperion. There was so much unspoken resentment, and okay, sure, Jack was still a lot of things, but he wasn’t that anymore.
“Anyway,” Angel said in a clipped tone, glancing down at her holo-tablet before holding it out to him. “I have a theory based on his bloodwork.”
Jack accepted the device and scrolled through the data displayed on the holo-screen. He had been doing this long enough that parsing through info like this was far more efficient than having someone try to explain. He honed in on keywords, scanning passages that stuck out. Neuroenhancers. Forced genetic mutations and DNA resequencization. Knowing the occasional Eridian used some agent to instantly transform into something stronger and more powerful did little to debunk his own totally insane yet plausible theory.
Jack transferred the data to his personal server and wordlessly pinged Rhys in the process to bring it to his attention. “And the artifact?” he asked.
“Scans show it’s nothing more than the other basic contact enhancers in storage. It apparently served its purpose and fell back on a secondary use, which at least explains why we’ve never found anything indicative on any of the corpses.”
Jack glanced up at Rhys, who was still lying in bed with his back to the windows. He had barely regained consciousness before he sprung up and grabbed the lead doctor by the throat. Rhys’ eyes had been disoriented, but his expression deadly. There had been a moment where Jack thought Rhys would kill the guy.
But that wasn’t what had piqued Jack’s interest.
His gaze had immediately locked onto the protruding canines in Rhys’ mouth, razor-edged and decidedly predatory.
Then Jack had watched his expression ripple as something clicked into place before Rhys shoved the doctor away with incredible force.
“I assume you saw it too,” Jack said.
There was an unexpected hesitation from Angel, and it made Jack look up at her from where he was seated. She was still so thin and tired looking, but her eyes were large and bright with enough fire in them that Jack didn’t worry anymore.
“I know it’s a thing of holo-vids and urban legend,” Angel finally began. “But for years, so were Vaults and Sirens and aliens, and we’ve had plenty of firsthand experience to know we’ve only scratched the surface there.”
Jack said nothing, looked back toward Rhys. Considering everything they’d been through because of it all, he had no idea what kind of response to make to her comment.
“There’s usually a grain of truth to stuff like that anyway,” she continued. “It’s not far-fetched to assume this has happened before and quite possibly where the myth came from.”
The monitor beeped, and Jack’s jaw tightened.
“Doesn’t really matter, does it?” he allowed with a faint edge to his voice. It was a hell of a thing to technically be blameless, for once, and not feel blameless at all. “Guess I’ll just have to keep throwing money at this one too.”
“Jack—”
He flicked his wrist dismissively. “No. I mean, we can treat it like a medical condition.”
Angel studied him for several seconds.
“Easily,” she said. “You just have to convince him of that.”
Which would be problematic but not insurmountable. If the reward was worth the risk, Rhys would raze an entire galaxy for what he wanted. They were alike in that regard. The difference was, Jack wouldn’t feel bad about the collateral damage.
He watched Rhys roll onto his back, noticed the argent glow of his ECHOeye, and smiled a bit. Avoiding catching Jack’s attention had been the only logical thing to do, the only rational thing. But Rhys had weighed his options and deemed Jack worth the risk repeatedly over the years. Even now, he was choosing Jack by accessing the data. The value of that was not lost on him, and Jack had no interest in losing it now when he didn’t have to.
“Well,” Jack said, handing back the holo-tablet. “There’s no time like the present.”
Rhys glanced over as he approached, then pushed himself upright when Jack swiped his wristband to enter. As he took a few steps into the dimly lit room, Rhys visibly recoiled.
“I really don’t want you in here,” Rhys said, sniffing briefly at the air as if he didn’t entirely trust it.
“We both know that’s not true, kitten.”
“I’m serious, Jack. I—” Rhys paused to roll his jaw. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“If I thought you were going to do that, I wouldn’t be here, and I don’t just mean with what’s happened to you. Alright?”
Rhys didn’t relax, but he didn’t push back either. They simply looked at each other and felt the weight of what Jack had just said. Then Rhys glanced away, moving his chin slightly in agreement.
For a minute, Jack studied him, noting the edge, the precision to how he was carrying himself even seated. His skin was clear, albeit paler than usual. It created a contrast against his features that was more aesthetically pleasing than should be possible. However, Rhys looked haggard, signifying he hadn’t slept at all either. Jack could also see some creeping edge of fear. It was the same look Rhys had about him when Jack hinted at him moving in.
Ignoring that wasn’t as easy this time around, but he’d get to it in a bit.
“You look awful,” Jack finally said.
“You might have somehow forgotten in the last five seconds, but my DNA has been permanently and irreversibly altered,” Rhys said in a tired voice. “It’s taking me a hot minute to adjust.”
Busying himself with rolling back his shirtsleeves, Jack crossed the room, but he could still sense Rhys’ mounting unease. The tension and increased respiration rate. The nervous tells betraying his panic at having Jack near.
Not approaching Rhys any differently than he would have in the past, Jack reached out and placed his hands on Rhys’ shoulders. Felt the coolness of his skin as Jack idly ran the pad of his thumb along the Rhys’ collarbone. An intentionally familiar touch.
“Look,” Jack began. “I get you’re upset you ended up with altered DNA instead of two robot arms, and I apologize for not just lopping it off then and there so you could have that.”
Rhys smirked faintly, soft and fond. Finally relaxed a little.
The knot in Jack’s chest loosened fractionally as well. “The good news is, based on how you launched that labcoat across the room yesterday, you should still be able to bench press me.”
“Silver lining,” Rhys allowed drolly.
“I don’t know. We might want to avoid silver for a bit until we figure this out.”
“Shut up.”
Jack couldn’t suppress the grin tugging at his lips. He settled a hand just below Rhys’ right ear, nudging at his jawline until Rhys lifted his head higher. It was the gaze he’d always known and not, at once. Instead of dark brown, his right iris was several shades lighter, almost amber in color. And in his slightly open mouth, Jack could clearly see the tips of his fangs peeking out. By the look of discomfort on Rhys’ face, he could only guess it was a physiological response to Jack being so close.
“Tell me what you need, so we can go home and get some sleep.”
“I can’t go home like this.”
“Yeah, you can, because you’re going home with me, sunshine. I meant what I said before this shit started.”
Rhys wavered for a moment. Jack thought perhaps he’d withdraw again, so he pulled Rhys against his chest and buried his fingers into the mess of his hair. After a moment’s hesitation, Rhys reached out and wrapped his arms around him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “It’s just something else to figure out.”
He felt Rhys nod a little, and if Rhys then held him a little tighter than usual, Jack didn’t question it.
_______________________________________________________________________________
The first week was particularly difficult, but it had nothing to do with the staple change in Rhys’ diet.
Why Rhys had wanted a dark, quiet room cut off from the world quickly became obvious. He was hyperaware of his surroundings in a way that was overwhelming. His senses had literally dialed up to eleven, and it took him almost a month to determine how to exert control over everything and adapt.
Initially, Rhys would catch bits of distant conversation he didn’t care to hear or get woken up in the middle of the night by a high-pitched sound that seemed to drill into his head. He’d complain about random smells dominating his senses, but these annoyances were the first things to fade out.
Touch took the longest because it didn’t seem like Rhys gave a shit about reining it in. Not that Jack had an issue with that— at all. It was something else watching Rhys lose himself in the feel of Jack’s palm against his skin or the sensation of his mouth on his body. Honestly, between that and his newfound appreciation for giving Rhys finely textured fabrics, Jack probably wasn’t actively helping Rhys out there.
The worst of it by far had been his vision, and adjustments to Rhys’ programming were necessary to take the edge off. With focal enhancements removed and the color scheme of his ECHOeye altered to mesh better with the changes, it became more of a distraction than a hurdle. Instead of squeezing his eyes shut and retreating to a dark space, Rhys would randomly hone in on the way light moved through the diamond of Jack’s ring. Or he would stare at a spot on Jack’s sweater as if it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the universe.
However, what they had believed to be just vision-related light sensitivity was actually a very real threat to his well-being. This was discovered the hard fucking way when Rhys had a severe allergic reaction to the food court’s artificial sunlight system. Immediately removing him from the area brought his breathing under control. Still, the migraine and rash that had spread across even the clothed area of his torso remained for several days.
The lighting had been appropriately adjusted in areas Rhys frequented, and it took some time to finesse, but a shield filtering out any UV radiation he may come across neutralized the problem. Beyond that, most of the Old Earth superstitions proved false. Rhys had a reflection. Silver wasn’t deadly. He could go wherever the hell he wanted, and as badass as it would have been, he could not turn into a bat.
All in all, once everything settled, living together went about as Jack had imagined it would.
Except instead of just having chocolate dill pickle ice cream offensively stored in his freezer, 450mL bags of clean, donated blood raided from Medical also chilled in the refrigerator next to the milk and eggs. Once Rhys had basically drunk his weight in blood post-transformation, he was as good as new. Since then, he only felt the need to have a bag every three to four days. Eating regular foods occurred even less. But the way Rhys metabolized and stored energy, generated red blood cells, and basically functioned overall was still well beyond their grasp.
Either way, Rhys’ condition was easily kept hidden and managed. At least it was until some incompetent moron lost the secure case they used to store his supply while off station.
“It’s not on the ship,” Jack said once the door to their quarters had slid shut behind him.
Rhys smiled wryly before looking back down at the holo-tablet. “I figured as much when I heard gunshots. It’s not a big deal.”
Jack’s jaw tightened perceptively at the dismissal and stepped toward him.
“It’ll only take us another day or so to get to Eos,” he continued. “I can raid Medical when we land.” Then Rhys sighed faintly as Jack plucked the device from his hands, as though reluctantly accepting the inevitable.
“Whatever dumbass thing you’re working on can wait a sec.” Jack nudged his way between Rhys’ legs before he leaned down, bracing himself on the back of the couch.
“I’m reviewing propositions for some budget reallocations so you can keep expanding your sector, but sure, dumbass thing.”
“That’s not going to stop all of a sudden just because I made you pay attention to me for a bit, cupcake.”
Jack’s hand came up and touched Rhys’ chin, tilting his head further back so he would look directly at him. Then palmed the side of his neck, felt the faint sensation of a solitary heartbeat against his hand.
Rhys’ core body temperature was a full six degrees lower than a regular person’s, but he never felt cold. He just didn’t radiate any heat. The fact Rhys did feel cool and slightly clammy did make it a big deal. That and how his skin was ashen instead of the pale ivory Jack was used to. He looked exhausted, his body straining under the effort of functioning with too low of a red blood cell count.
“I’m fine,” Rhys said. “I’ve gone a week before easily.”
“And then other times, you barely make it two days,” Jack complained before dropping down beside Rhys. “We should see if it’s a certain blood type that holds you over longer.”
For the most part, he was off-limits unless there was something specific Rhys wanted to know. The incident was ‘find out about it and die’ classified anyway. Plus, as harmless as the tests were, Jack didn’t like Rhys being seen as some experiment to be poked at.
“I should have just taken care of it this morning,” Rhys said. “But I got busy with departure prep and thought it could wait until we left.”
“Good news is I’m right here.”
Rhys shook his head slightly and reached for the device. Which Jack promptly removed from his hand again and tossed aside.
“Come on, kitten. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,” Jack said, then grinned because Rhys was definitely thinking about it now.
It wasn’t just the lowered fangs that gave it away. Rhys’ eyes had locked onto Jack in a way that made him feel transparent. Like he was parsing Jack out, trying to determine how seriously to take the suggestion. As if Rhys wasn’t just taking in Jack’s heart rate and increase in core temperature, but also seeing or hearing the very thoughts tumbling through his mind. Picking up on the pull of interest washing through Jack, and heat developing in his lower abdomen.
Perhaps Rhys could even smell it all on him.
Because Jack would be a tall, perfectly in shape, handsome liar if he said he’d never thought about it. What he hadn’t thought about before was Rhys feeding on someone else. And now that Jack had considered it, he would absolutely not tolerate it.
“I was going to bring you the guy who somehow fucked up the most simple task ever and have him solve this little problem. I mean, I was going to kill him anyway, you know,” Jack said, voice low. Then gently pushed Rhys’ lip up.
The exposed fang shined wetly in the lighting, and Jack trailed his thumb along it.
“But this mouth of yours belongs to me.”
Rhys swallowed tightly, eyes falling to Jack’s throat. He nodded fractionally, and Jack drew Rhys toward him, pulling him onto his lap.
Jack was already kissing him, the fangs a noticeable presence against his mouth, one he had gotten more than used to as the months passed. It didn’t happen often anymore, but the minor loss of control always linked up with Rhys having a bag shortly after that.
“That’s it, sunshine,” Jack said as Rhys pressed down on his lap. “I can always tell when you’re thinking about it. You should have known all you had to do was ask.”
Rhys hummed vaguely, grinding down again as his metal hand came to rest under Jack’s jaw. The other hand smoothed down his neck, presumably testing for an ideal location to bite.
“Seemed like an overstep,” Rhys murmured. “But you’re right. I have thought about it. I think about it all the time.”
Jack felt his shirt collar pulled lower before Rhys’ fingers slid up into his hair. There was a soft gust of air on his neck as Rhys brought his mouth close. Then Rhys inhaled a long deep breath, not even trying to hide it for once. And the appreciative sound that left him was making Jack harder by the second.
“You have no idea how good you smell,” Rhys said. A soft sensation met Jack’s neck as he lightly kissed and licked a specific spot. “I bet you’ll taste even better, but I need you to calm down.”
Jack knew he couldn’t. Not with the intimate weight of Rhys in his lap, the hand gripping his hair, or the lips brushing against Jack’s skin with every word. It was as if Rhys was unwilling or unable to back away when he was so close to having what he wanted.
“Your blood pressure is too high. I don’t want to kill you.”
“Do I really seem worried about it to you?” Jack asked before taking him by both hips and pulling Rhys down at the same time he ground up.
Rhys gasped, pressing his face into Jack’s neck. “One of us has to be. I like having you around.”
Jack closed his eyes at that and tugged at Rhys’ shirt to get at his back. As he did, the mouth at his neck opened, and two points lightly pressed into his skin. Obviously, Rhys wasn’t too worried about it either. Jack would have to be a flailing dumbass or Rhys would literally have to be out for blood for anything to go wrong. He was built to prevent it from happening, and that became more than apparent once Jack’s skin broke under the razor-sharp edges.
It didn’t feel very fucking great for all of about five (5) whole seconds. Which, no surprise. Jack was literally being impaled in the damn neck. But once the fangs were deep enough in his throat for bloodletting, the enzymes kicked in pretty fast. A mild anesthetic came first, dulling the bite to something comparable to a pinch. Jack was listening to Rhys swallow, steadily consuming the outflow when the second wave hit, messing with his pleasure and pain receptors more thoroughly.
It felt like an egg cracked over the back of his mind. A tingling warmth that oozed over his consciousness before sliding down his spine to bloom throughout his body. It was good. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt, and he immediately knew he’d been right to shut down the idea of anyone else having even a taste of this.
A moan passed Jack’s lips.
At the sound, the hand against his jaw flexed and slid away, trailing down to tug at his clothing. Under his hands, Rhys’ body began to warm. Jack always liked to touch Rhys, finding just the feeling of his fingers sliding over Rhys’ skin pleasant. But like this, it felt like it radiated out through every nerve ending, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like this for Rhys. If it was like Jack was trying to brand himself into Rhys every time they were together.
“Fuck, Rhys. Next time I’m going to be inside you,” Jack managed, grabbing his hips to provide some resistance so Rhys could push down harder.
Friction rippled through him as Rhys did so with a strangled sound, but he also pushed back against Jack. Holding tighter onto Jack’s upper body so the fangs embedded in his throat wouldn’t accidentally cut him open.
The constant stimulation stemming from the mouth on his neck and the grinding against his dick was spectacular. Jack felt like he was floating in sensation. His brain buzzed and blanked.
He started losing track of time.
Then fingers sank into his hair, angling his face upward, and Rhys was kissing him. His mouth slanting hungrily over Jack’s without his fangs in the way. He tasted sweet like he always did, but with a faint copper aftertaste.
Distantly, Jack realized his shirt was already open and that Rhys was working at his fly rather impatiently. Once unfastened, he opened his eyes to watch Rhys settle himself on the floor in front of him, reaching to tug at his jeans. Jack raised his hips to let Rhys wriggle them and his boxers down. His cock was unbelievably hard and leaking, and Jack exhaled at the sensation of Rhys sucking in the head.
“That’s it, baby,” Jack said, voice deep and throaty. “Christ, I love your mouth.”
Rhys hummed and worked his tongue slowly against the sensitive underside. His hand settled around the base of Jack’s cock, and he could feel how thick and hot it was in the circle of Rhys’ fingers. But before even getting halfway down the shaft, Rhys pulled up, almost coming off the head, only to slowly work his way back down again.
After a minute, Jack’s hand came to rest gently on the top of his head, tangling in his hair. Then he gave Rhys a slight pull that sank his cock deeper into Rhys’ mouth.
“There we go.” Jack petted rewardingly at his hair. “Just like that. Keep being perfect for me like you always are.”
Rhys’ eyes flicked up to meet his, and the heat in them— Then there was the sight of Rhys’ lips wrapped around his cock. Watching it plunge into his mouth as Rhys now touched him with long, firm strokes that had his fist meeting his lips every other pass. And fucking hell, the feeling. He loved the way Rhys sucked dick, and it was absolutely incredible with his senses overloaded like this.
“Just a bit more, sweetheart, and I’ll take care of you. But you are gorgeous no matter how I’m in you.”
Rhys moaned around him, and Jack tried to hang on a little longer but the sensations being wrung from his body were intense. Jack’s balls were tightening, and his cock was swelling, and then he said roughly, “Fuck, Rhys, I—“ and came.
Rhys swallowed around him, slowly working Jack through it, and finally, when he pulled away, Jack dragged him back into his lap. He kissed Rhys again, a slow slide of tongues this time as Jack caught his breath. Smoothing his hands over Rhys’ skin and relishing in the warmth of him.
Jack pushed the shirt off his shoulders then took Rhys to bed. He was so much broader, his frame practically enveloped Rhys’, and he moved closer to suck at his jaw. Jack kissed down his throat and across his shoulder until Rhys gave a low moan and his body shuddered against him.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it again,” Jack said into his ear. “But I need you to hear me out real quick.”
Rhys abruptly tensed, but Jack slid a hand possessively down his throat and kissed along his collarbone until he uncoiled some. It was a bit of a point of contention between them, but Rhys couldn’t turn anyone— at least, probably not for another century based on analysis of his venom— and Jack didn’t care.
Jack nibbled on his earlobe. “I’ve been working on a way to back up my consciousness and transfer into a clone for a while now. Finally got it perfected,” he murmured, curling his fingers around Rhys’ cock and beginning to stroke him.
A soft, needy sound came from low in Rhys’ throat, and he dragged Jack’s mouth back to his. His pelvis started lifting to meet Jack’s rhythm as he intentionally began squeezing in just the right places and applying the perfect amount of pressure. Exactly the way Rhys liked.
“I think we’ll both like it better this way, don’t you think?”
Rhys nodded, throbbing in Jack’s grip. His kisses were falling apart, dissolving into tight, desperate panting.
“I told you I’d figure this out, cupcake,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” Jack tightened his grip and twisted, then buried his face in the curve of his neck as Rhys came.
After a moment, Rhys’ fingers began to lightly scratch his scalp. Jack exhaled, shifting to look at him, and found that expression he had been missing from Rhys. That blend of trust and desperate gratitude. He brushed his lips against Rhys’, finally satisfied that there was nothing left that could take him away.