As the thunder crashed outside, Rusty surrendered to the storm brewing between them, secure in the knowledge that Gem was with him and he would keep him safe. And for the first time in a very long time, Rusty thought maybe, just maybe, magic was real after all.
Chapter nineteen
Cowabunga
Gem
Oh gods, Rusty waskissing him. He was kissing Rusty.Theywere kissing. And it was good. Deities, was it good.
It was unhurried and indulgent. Rusty was careful, bordering on tentative, mapping Gem’s lips like never before discovered territory. When Gem kissed him back deeper, firmer, Rusty gasped, fingers flexing on Gem’s neck. He surrendered to Gem, going somewhat limp in his hold, and oh, Gem liked that very much.
He sifted hands through the fur on Rusty’s side and framed his face to keep him close. He led the kiss, and Rusty followed, tripping every now and then, like he didn’t know the steps as well as Gem did. Rusty’s rhythm was unpracticed, and the apparent lack of experience surprised him.
Sure, Rusty’s old line of work probably hadn’t prioritized kissing, but in the past six years, he’d had to have kissed people. Right? Judging from the hesitant way Rusty touched him, Gem questioned that assumption.Maybe Rusty hadn’t, which meant maybe he hadn’t slept with many people either.
Some primal part of Gem roared in satisfaction at that thought, but he tamped it down. If Rusty was inexperienced—at least, in this sense—Gem needed to be careful. He needed to go slow. He would make this good, show Rusty what pleasure was supposed to feel like. After everything that had been taken from him, Gem wanted to give back. Generously.
He was, after all, a humanitarian.
Gem eased the pressure of their kiss, allowing Rusty to catch up, and he lightened the touch of his hands even more. The grip on Gem’s neck was tight, claws digging in deliciously, and Rusty’s other paw tangled in Gem’s shirt. He was breathing harder now, chasing Gem’s mouth, shifting restlessly on the bed between Gem’s splayed knees.
The storm raged outside, periodic flashes of lightning skittering across the walls, casting Gem in Rusty’s shadow. They kissed like they had all the time in the world to enjoy it, like it was the only goal, like kissing Gem was Rusty’s sole purpose of existence.
Gem kept waiting for Rusty to touch him more suggestively, to slip his fingers under Gem’s shirt or grab his ass, but he didn’t. Rusty simply cradled Gem’s face in his hands, holding him so tenderly, like he was something to be treasured, something to be cherished.
Now, Gem didn’t need gentle handling. He loved a good spanking or a solid hair-pulling while getting fucked within an inch of his life. Given the right mood, Gem could even get behind some good-natured choking.
But the way Rusty kissed him now made his insides turn gooey and his limbs grow heavy. It made him want to wrap Rusty up in all of his arms and hide away under their blanket fort so no one could ever find them. He wanted to lie on the same pillow and whisper secrets as Rusty drewlazy designs over his arms with his claws. He wanted breakfast in bed and sharing the sink while they brushed their teeth and reading the newspaper together as they drank coffee.
Oh gods, Gem wanted everything. Pillow talk and promises and,“how about we spend the holidays with my parents this year?”and finding gray hairs amidst Rusty’s whiskers and scolding him when he didn’t wear his glasses because,“your eyes aren’t what they used to be, darling.”
He wanted years. He wanted forever. For the first time in his life, Gem wanted to be chosen; he wanted to be kept.
“You’re so beautiful,” Rusty murmured, the words dancing across Gem’s parted mouth. “You’re more beautiful than the rain and the stardust and the desert combined.”
Gem’s eyes fluttered open, his throat cinching tight as Rusty’s thumbs fanned adoringly over his cheeks. The Pyclon was smiling. It was achingly soft, but there was a sorrow there Gem didn’t understand.
Then he said, “People like me don’t deserve beautiful things, Gem.”
And oh, oh,oh, that split Gem right down the middle.
“People like you deserve every beautiful thing,” he said, drawing Rusty closer until their chests brushed. Rusty looped his arms around Gem’s neck, and their foreheads met. “And until you believe it for yourself, I’ll decide what you deserve.”
Rusty’s reflective eyes blinked rapidly, but he nodded. Just once. “Okay.”
When Rusty kissed him again, Gem hummed and eased backward onto the mattress, bringing the Pyclon with him. Propped above him, one knee between his legs, Rusty deepened the kiss, the roughness of his tongue rasping over Gem’s in a tentative glide, growing more confident when Gem hummed his pleasure.
He tasted smoky and spicy, and Gem wanted to feast on him. He didn’t. He followed Rusty’s lead, keeping their kisses gentle and, dare he say, romantic. Sure, his dick was hard as stone, prehensiles flexing, barbs flaring, but he let the burn settle.
They kissed for ages, Rusty hovering above him, their chests brushing now and then. At some point, he shifted his knee higher, accidentally making contact with Gem’s hard-on, and they both gasped. Rusty froze, breaking away from Gem’s mouth as he panted, wide eyes glinting strangely in the moonlight.
“Oh,” he said, and Gem smiled a little bashfully.
“Sorry. I swear it’s a compliment. You’re a very good kisser.”
With a snuffled laugh, Rusty looked away, throat clicking. Then his hand shifted down to the hem of Gem’s long sleepshirt. “I can—”
As much as Gem wanted Rusty to touch him, as much as he wanted to touch Rusty, he stopped him with a gentle but unyielding grip of his wrist. “It’s okay. That’s not what this is about. Not tonight.” The Pyclon cocked his head in confusion, notched ear folding down, and Gem cupped his face in his upper hands. “I want you, Rusty, but we’ve got time.”
