#marc rosarin

[captainsophiestark]

Not A Relationship Guy

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Requeted by Anon! This is the Tristan Flynn part of "Az or Flynn" lol. Thanks again for enabling me to write about my faves! Hope you like it! Also, Happy Valentine's Day everybody!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: Bryce's good friend from Nidaros has moved to Crescent City with her, and quickly made an impression on a certain fae lord. But she's not interested in a one-night stand, and Flynn has made it clear before that he's not really a relationship guy.

Word Count: 5,252

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

When I'd first come to Crescent City, I hadn't known anyone other than Bryce. We'd grown up together in Nidaros, and now as adults, we'd maintained our close friendship even after she moved away. About a month ago, I'd joined her, following her move to the big city. I'd been terrified and out of my depth, with Bryce as my only connection in the massive metropolis. Now, I stood shoulder to shoulder with the top ranking members of the Fae Aux, screaming as we spectated the end of a beer pong game in the middle of a massive house party.

Things had certainly changed.

Declan and his boyfriend Marc stood on one side of the table, competing against a few people I didn't know. I was still relatively new, although my circle had expanded thanks to Bryce. Dec and Marc only had one cup left on their opponent's side, and then the game would be theirs.

The whole room screamed, a mix of heckling and encouragement, as Dec lined up his shot. Bryce hung off my neck, stone cold sober but shouting like the drunkest one in the crowd, which made me smile. Finally, after an extra moment's pause, Dec let the ball fly.

A moment later, it splashed into the cup, making Marc and Dec the winners.

The room erupted into cheers, no matter if people were rooting for or against Dec. A shot like that had to be appreciated.

The other team got a chance at redemption, but couldn't manage to get all of Marc and Dec's cups without missing. The game officially ended, with Marc and Dec's ten game win streak remaining unbroken.

"Boo!" came a loud voice, stepping through the crowd to the side of the table the losers had just vacated. Tristan Flynn stood tall, heckling his best friend across the table. "Somebody needs to take you two down!"

"Somebody just tried, Flynn!" Dec called back. "And you tried a few rounds ago, too. We're untouchable."

He and Marc did a little celebration, and Flynn rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, that was with Ruhn as my partner. I just need a better partner, and then you two are done." His eyes turned to scan the crowd, landing immediately on Brcye.

"Quinlan-"

"Nope. No interest in being your teammate, Flynn."

He put a hand to his chest, mock hurt. "You wound me, Quinlan."

Bryce rolled her eyes. "You'll live. Besides, you're in luck. I happen to have the perfect partner for you."

Flynn raised an eyebrow in question at the same time Bryce gave me a hard shove forward. I turned to glare at her, but she just grinned back and gave me a little 'shoo' gesture. I narrowed my eyes at her even further, but turned back to Flynn anyway.

He watched me with a skeptical gaze. We'd gotten to know each other a little since I'd come to Lunathion, and we generally got along. That didn't make him trust me as a beer pong partner, though.

"Are you any good at pong, sweetheart?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I guess you're gonna find out."

With that, I turned from Flynn to quickly rerack the cups before picking up one of the balls on the table. I turned to Dec and Marc, waiting for one of them to do the same so we could shoot for who went first. They shared a look, then Dec stepped up, grinning at me as he prepared. I could feel Flynn hovering over my shoulder, but I ignored him as Dec and I locked eyes.

"Eye... to... eye," we said in sync, not looking away from each others' eyes as we let our first shots fly. I sank mine, but unfortunately, so did Dec.

I turned to Flynn. He didn't look impressed, exactly, but the wary skepticism had been replaced by a small, crooked smile.

"You're up," I said simply. Flynn didn't hesitate before stepping up to the table and going through the same procedure Dec and I had just done, but with Marc shooting opposite him. Like me, Flynn splashed his into a cup, but Marc's shot narrowly missed and bounced off into the crowd.

I let up a whooping cheer and high-fived Flynn, who was full-on grinning now. Marc and Dec just shook their heads.

"That means nothing," Dec called across the table. "You're both still toast."

"Yeah yeah, talk is cheap," I shot back. "Toss the other ball over here and let's get this upset on the road."

The game was truly a battle for the ages. The majority of the crowd had quickly rallied behind Flynn and I, since Dec and Marc had been dominating for far too long. They continued to sink shot after shot, but so did we. We held our own, using trash talk and head games and anything else we could think of to our advantage as the game went on.

I wasn't normally a super quiet person or anything, but since I'd been new to town and not in any party scenarios with Bryce's friends before this, I hadn't been ridiculously loud either. Now, however, I screamed, cheered, and jeered at the top of my lungs. With every celebration of success and mocking of the other team's misfortune, I caught Flynn staring at me more and more, an appraising look in his eye. I mostly ignored him, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a warm feeling in my chest when he grinned at me.

We both stayed focused and at the top of our games until, finally, each team only had one cup left. Marc and Dec had briefly pulled ahead, but Flynn had knocked out one of their cups to tie it. Now, the game rested on me.

"C'mon, you can do this!" shouted Flynn, putting his hands on my shoulders and jumping around a little to hype me up. I nodded, then turned to line up my shot as Flynn stepped back.

Marc and Dec were screaming, waving their hands everywhere to try and throw me off. The crowd screamed and the music blared, but I blocked it all out. I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, my eyes laser-focused on the cup ahead.

Without giving myself time to second guess, I brought my arm forward and let the ball fly. A second later, it landed with a splash in the final cup of Marc and Dec.

"YES!" roared Flynn, and a moment later my feet had left the ground. He'd wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up in celebration. I laughed, absolutely beaming as Flynn set me down again.

"Alright, alright, it's not over yet!" Marc reminded us, bringing us out of the moment. "We get redemption shots."

"Even if you drag us into overtime, we're untouchable now," Flynn called. Our opponents ignored him, even as I joined Flynn's heckling and the two of us did everything we could think of to distract or psych out our opponents.

Marc shot first, and he missed. Me, Flynn, and apparently everyone else in the room held our breaths as Dec shook out his arm, then lined up his shot. Flynn and I waved our hands around, jumped up and down, and shouted things we thought might distract Dec, moving perfectly in sync like we'd been a team our whole life. Finally, Dec let the ball fly.

Flynn and I ripped our hands back to avoid any accidental interference that would cost us the game, and a split second later, Dec's ball bounced off the rim of our last cup. I reacted like lightning. According to the rules, once it hit the cup, it was fair game. I smacked it out of the way, off the table and into the crowd, before it could fall one way or the other.

"NO!" wailed Dec, sinking to his knees dramatically across the table.

"YES!" Flynn and I screamed in sync, and he picked me up again and spun me around. He put me down a moment later, still beaming, hands still around my waist. Our eyes locked, both caught up in the moment of euphoria, and he leaned towards me just a bit. I smiled, squeezing his arm but turning away to where Marc and Dec were still going through the stages of grief across the table.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss Flynn. But I also knew he wasn't a relationship kind of guy. The three different females I'd seen him make out with throughout the party tonight were testament to that. I didn't want to just kiss him and then try to pretend to go back to normal as friends the next day, so instead, I focused on the euphoria of our win.

Flynn let the moment pass, too, as we gloated over Marc and Dec's defeat. Finally, after significant whining and complaining, they wandered off and another pair stepped up to challenge me and Flynn. We ran the table for the better part of an hour before stepping away to do other things, our win streak still intact.

I stayed at the party with Bryce for a little while longer, dancing and laughing the night away. Flynn joined us for basically all of it, making a point of paying attention to me, talking and laughing with me. He toed the line of flirting more often than not, and never wandered to other parts of the party even though Bryce spent significant time roasting him every chance she got. When she and I finally left the party just after two in the morning, we only got a few steps from the frat house before she turned to me.

"Alright, spill. What's going on with you and Flynn?"

I laughed, gently bumping my shoulder into hers as we walked. "Nothing's going on, Bryce. He's a friend, that's it."

"I've seen how he acts around his friends, and that's not it. I know you're new, but you must've noticed the difference too."

I sighed. "Yeah, I have. And I won't lie, Bryce, he's great. He's funny, I like talking to him and spending time with him. Obviously he's gorgeous. But based on everything I've seen from him, he's not interested in an actual relationship with somebody. Likewise, I'm not interested in making out with somebody at a party and having that be the end of it. So I think it's best if we just stay friends."

Bryce nodded thoughtfully, letting a comfortable silence rest over us for a few blocks as we walked side by side. I thought that was the end of it, but then she chimed in again.

"I've never seen him keep flirting with somebody as long as he did with you tonight. Normally if he hasn't gotten what he wanted in about twenty minutes, he moves on."

I didn't respond. I mean, what was I supposed to say? I wasn't sure Bryce really knew what she was trying to say either, and a second later, she moved on with a curse. I looked at her in question, and she sighed.

"I just got a text from Jesiba. I have to go into work in the morning."

I winced in sympathy, then let Bryce complain to me the rest of the way home. I fell into bed after promising her some kind of baked good when she got home tomorrow to help her get through the work day, and figured that would be the last of the discussion on things with Flynn.

I was very, very wrong.

For the next few weeks, whenever I did any activity that included Flynn, he took every opportunity he got to flirt with me. I never reciprocated, but I didn't totally shut him down either. More than a few of my friends other than Bryce had mentioned it, but I usually brushed their questions off. Flynn and I got on like a wild fire, there was no denying it. But just staying friends, hopefully good friends, still seemed like the best choice to me.

Around a month after Flynn had first started flirting, our whole extended group had decided to go out to the White Raven together to dance the night away and do whatever the hell we wanted to do. Bryce shot me a look on our way out the door, and I raised an eyebrow after locking the door behind us.

"You look good. Are you going to keep ignoring Flynn, or are you finally planning to do something about him tonight?"

I waved her off. "I already told you, Bryce, I'm not-"

"Interested in a one-time thing, yeah, I know. And that's fine. But he's been chasing you for a month. I think you should talk to him, let him know you're not interested."

"I'm sure he'll lose interest soon enough, B. Probably tonight, when he finally gets a break from work to the point that he notices some pretty thing dancing next to him and forgets he ever had a thing for me."

She gave me a skeptical look, but I ignored it. Flynn had become my best friend other than Bryce over the last month, but I wasn't about to start kidding myself that I might be the exception to his lack of interest in relationships.

Bryce and I were the last to arrive, and we found the rest of the group already posted up at a table, the first round of drinks ready to go. Flynn was already out on the dancefloor, and after saying a quick hello to the rest of our friends, I decided to go join him.

"Bryce? You in?"

She grinned and shook her head at me. "Nope. Have fun."

I narrowed my eyes at her, making sure she knew she wasn't being slick and that her implication wasn't appreciated. She blew me a kiss, and I rolled my eyes before turning from the table to go find Flynn on the dancefloor.

"Hey!" he cried, lighting up as soon as he saw me. "Finally!"

He grabbed my hands without hesitation, twirling me around him in the middle of the dancefloor. I smiled and laughed, then fell forward as he pulled me to his chest. I rested my hands on his shoulders, swaying to the beat with him, his beautiful eyes and devilish smile making my heart race. His hands drifted down my waist to rest low on my hips, and it was enough to shake me out of the moment.

I smiled, but put a little more space between us, and Flynn took the hint. He twirled me out and away from him again, and when he pulled me back this time, he dropped my hands. The two of us danced our hearts out, leaving a bit of space between us, letting the music completely take us over. Flynn's eyes still raked over me, but I just grinned back at him as I moved to the beat.

We spent a long, long time out there, dancing our hearts out without caring if we were good, making absolute fools of ourselves. Flynn's eyes stayed locked on me the whole time, that stupid grin never leaving his face. I tried my best to ignore it and just enjoy the moment with the frat boy I'd somehow become best friends with.

Finally, after the song switched again and Flynn showed no signs of slowing down, I had to take a break. I stopped dancing and stepped forward into his space, and Flynn mirrored the move, even leaning down a little so it'd be easier for me to shout into his ear.

"I'm gonna run to the restroom!" I called, still barely able to be heard over the noise. I leaned back and Flynn nodded at me, shooting me one more grin before I turned and headed off through the crowd.

I ducked past all the drunk patrons, and luckily for me, found no line at the bathroom. I paused at the sinks before heading back into the fray to splash some cold water under my eyes, waking me up a little and removing any misbehaving mascara. Then I sighed, gave myself a giant smile in the mirror, and headed for the door back to the rest of the club.

When I stepped into the hallway, to my surprise, I found Flynn standing a few feet from me. He smiled when he caught sight of me, and I came to a stop just in front of him, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against the wall.

"What are you doing?" I called over the pounding music still coming from the dancefloor. Flynn's grin just widened and he pushed off the wall, moving to stand in front of me. He braced one arm on the wall over my head and leaned in, crowding me and bringing his face down to within inches of mine.

"What I've been wanting to do since we kicked Dec's ass at pool," he responded, his voice low and throaty, just loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes darted to my lips, and then he was leaning in, intention clear.

My mind went blank as I stared back at him. He was one of the most handsome males I'd ever met, and I really did love talking to him and spending time with him. My heart raced at his proximity, and I'd never admit it to Bryce, but I wanted to kiss him, bad-

But then I thought better of it, as a group of female shifters passed us, staring and giggling into their hands. How many others had Flynn cornered in the hallway like this, for a physical release before he never called them again? How many females in this club had stood in the same place I did now, with the same male?

I pulled away at the last second, ducking under Flynn's arm to get some space from him. He whirled around to look at me with a frown, arms held out at his sides, clearly wondering what the hell I was doing. He took a step towards me and I took one back, which made him freeze on the spot.

"Sweetheart... what's wrong?" he asked, voice laced with confusion and concern. I wrapped my arms around myself and shook my head.

"I don't... I don't want this, Flynn. I don't want to make out with you in a dark club or hookup at the frat house. I don't care that you like to do that, it's your choice and you clearly enjoy it, but I don't. I don't want to be another fling or hookup or whatever before you move onto the next pretty thing that moves."

Flynn scowled. "What? That's not-"

"You've said yourself that you're not a relationship guy, Flynn. I've heard it a dozen times hanging out at the frat house. And that's okay. But I am a relationship person, and I care about you, a lot. Staying friends with you is more important to me than making out with you one time in a club hallway, only for you to turn around and grind with one of the shifters staring you down half an hour later."

Flynn's whole posture deflated, his expression dropping as he looked at me. I pursed my lips together and tried to give him a sympathetic look.

"Sorry, Flynn. I just... I really think this is for the best."

I didn't wait for a response before turning on my heel and heading back out to the dancefloor. I hadn't expected to care so much, but I could feel my heart threatening to shatter in my chest, and I wanted to get out of here before its resolve totally crumpled.

I reached our table to find my friends laughing and talking, Bryce mercifully on one end of the booth. I leaned in when I reached her, and her demeanor immediately became serious when she heard the tone of my voice.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna head home."

She pulled back and whirled around to look at me.

"What? Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened. I just... I'm ready to go. You don't have to come, I just thought I should let you know."

She scoffed at me, turning away just long enough to scoop up her purse before standing with me.

"Let's go."

I shot her a grateful look, and she linked arms with me without a second look over her shoulder to the males at our table as we headed for the door. I didn't follow her lead, and when I looked back, I saw Flynn up against the wall again, some gorgeous female in front of him and leaning in with obvious intent in her eyes. That little piece of my heart I'd been trying to hold together finally splintered and broke away.

I hadn't wanted to talk about it, but Bryce managed to get the full story out of me before I went to bed. She looked thoughtful, and clearly had some opinions she wanted to share, but I was exhausted and hurting and didn't want to talk about it. Thankfully, that must've shown clearly enough on my face that she let it go.

At least, until I wandered into the kitchen the next morning.

"You look like shit," Bryce said in lieu of good morning, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter towards me. I narrowed my eyes at her, but took the coffee anyway.

"Thanks. That's about how I feel."

"So... do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Okay, then I will. Why are you pretending you don't have a thing for him?"

"Who said I was, Bryce? He's absolutely gorgeous and I love spending time with him. He's funny, and chaotic in a good way, and I love talking to him. He's become my best friend here, other than you. But I want to date him, not hookup with him. So there's no point talking about it."

"Are you sure he doesn't want to date you, though?"

I fixed her with a look that communicated clearly how stupid I thought that question was. She shot right back with a fierce look of her own.

"I'm just saying, I haven't seen him with anyone else since you two started hanging out. And he hasn't talked about the single lifestyle since then, either, or even joke-flirted with me."

I sighed and shook my head. "I saw him with somebody as we were leaving the club last night, after I officially shut him down."

Bryce just hummed, eyes narrowed in thought as she sipped her own mug of coffee. I didn't like one thing about that look, so I quickly picked up my mug and headed back to my bedroom.

"I'm getting dressed, and then I'm probably gonna head to the gym. I'll see you tonight!"

I shut the bedroom door behind me before Bryce had a chance to say anything, heaving a sigh of relief the minute it was closed.

I changed quickly, but waited to leave my room until I heard Bryce go into her own. I didn't want to be ambushed and forced into another talk, hence why I was going to the gym in the first place. It would be a good way to lose myself in my music, and to be distracted from feelings by the pain in the rest of my body.

I stayed at the gym for an hour, then took my time showering and getting dressed in the locker room. I stayed under the hot water for a lot longer than usual, trying to wash away the hurt feeling still curled in the center of my chest. It was my own fault, catching feelings for somebody who I knew didn't want a relationship. But that didn't make it any less terrible to try and recover.

When I finally left the gym, the sun was high in the sky, which gave me hope that Bryce might be at work when I got home. I knew I'd have to face her and that thoughtful look she'd had sooner or later, but my preference was later, and I wanted to do everything I could to push that conversation off.

Luckily, our apartment was empty when I pushed back through the door. I sighed, throwing on the first thing that looked good on the tv and heading to the kitchen to make myself some lunch. I'd just settled into the couch and taken the first bite of my sandwich when a knock on the door disturbed me.

Not many people could make it up to our apartment from the lobby, so I knew I couldn't ignore the knock. I set my sandwich down with a huff and crossed the room, not bothering to check the peephole before flinging the door open.

I immediately regretted my decision when I found Tristan Flynn standing before me, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. I frowned, glancing over his shoulder for any sign of the rest of the frat pack, but he was the only one in the hallway.

"Flynn, what- ACHOO!"

My head flung forward violently at the smell of the flowers in Flynn's hands, and I groaned as I straightened up on the other side of the sneezing fit. I looked up at him again, this time through slightly bleary eyes. He looked a little panicked.

"Fuck. Are you allergic to flowers? I told Ruhn it was a stupid idea-"

"Wait, did you bring those for me? Did Ruhn tell you to bring those for me?"

Flynn grimaced. "Yeah. It's a long- hold on."

He cut himself off when he noticed me scrunching my nose, trying to fend off another sneezing fit. He took a few steps back to a pot down the hallway, then with a wave of his hand and a little of his magic, he buried the bouquet in the dirt of the fern.

"Fertilizer," he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he returned to stand before me. "Sorry about that."

"That's okay..." I still sounded a little stuffy, but hopefully that would stop soon now that the flowers were out of nose-range. "What... what are you doing here?"

He sighed, staring at the ground for a few beats before abruptly looking up at me. His warm eyes met my own, and that little shard that had broken off last night dug itself in a little harder, almost making me wince in pain.

"I needed to talk to you. I... came to ask you out."

I laughed. When Flynn's face stayed just as grave and serious as it had been, more serious than I'd ever seen him look, I stopped laughing.

"Wait... are you serious?"

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for laughing, by the way."

"I'm sorry, I just, I don't know. Bringing flowers to my door to ask me on a date doesn't really seem like your thing."

"No shit. I almost killed you with those stupid flowers a minute ago." I cracked a smile again, and finally, a smile made its way onto Flynn's face too. He blew out a long breath, then shook his head. "Look, I know I'm not good at this. I've had a lot of practice and time to get good at other things, but... not this. But I don't want you to be a hookup. I've never had more fun in my life than whenever I spend time with you. You're funny and smart and gorgeous, and I haven't given a shit about other females since you sank that first shot in eye-to-eye. So I'm here to ask you on a real date. For... a real relationship."

His face scrunched up a little at the word, and my eyebrows shot into my hairline.

"You know people are usually excited when they talk about a relationship, right?"

"I am," he said, pinning me with the intense stare he normally reserved for Aux business. "This is just... new to me. I'm figuring it out. But I know that I want you, and no one else. I made fun of Quinlan and Athalar for being so sappy about all that 'dating your best friend' shit, but... having met you, it actually sounds kind of nice."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, especially as Flynn fidgeted in front of me. I'd never seen him nervous like this, probably because he didn't usually fear rejection for meaningless make outs. But that thought brought another image to my mind.

"What about the female in the club last night?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral. I failed, emotion breaking through, but at least I'd tried.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"The one you were getting hot and heavy with when Bryce and I left," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. Flynn just scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Please. She was drunk as hell and throwing herself at the first male she found attractive. Not that I would've minded before, but..." He rested one arm on the doorway above me, leaning into my space with a confident smirk that made my heart race. "Last night I had other things on my mind."

I fought and failed to keep a smile off my face, my gaze dropping from Flynn's. My heart raced at his words and his proximity, and I knew he could hear it. I expected him to rub it in, but instead, he let out a long breath.

"Look, you shot me down last night, and I don't want to put pressure on you and ruin our friendship or whatever. So it's not an issue if you say no, alright? But if you give me a chance..." I looked up, just in time to see that insufferable smirk on his face. "I plan to make the most of it."

This time, I didn't bother fighting the smile as it spread across my face. I rested a hand on Flynn's shoulder and leaned in closer, until I could place a soft kiss on his cheek. His hand immediately dropped from the doorframe to my waist, pulling me tight against him, but I just smirked and leaned back.

"I'm up for a date, Flynn. What did you have in mind?"

He practically growled as his eyes roved my face, down the rest of me, and back up to meet my eyes. More than a small part of my brain wanted to take advantage of the empty apartment behind me, but the rest of me won out. I wasn't about to make it that easy on him.

"I was thinking dinner. Drinks. And then... whatever else we feel like doing, after that."

Everything about Flynn's tone and body language made it clear exactly what he had in mind for "after that". I smiled, leaning into him a little further, bringing one hand up to run it through his hair. Flynn's eyelids fluttered.

"That sounds like a great plan, Flynn. What time do you want to pick me up?"

"Seven?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then."

With that, I slipped out of Flynn's grip, shooting him a wicked smirk and wave before shutting the door on him.

"What the fuck?" I heard him yell from outside. I just laughed.

"I've got things to do before our date tonight, Flynn!" I called back, knowing he could hear me just fine through the door with his fae hearing. "If you seriously waited a month, I think you can handle a couple more hours."

I could hear him grumbling on the other side of the door, but I just returned to the couch and my waiting sandwich. After a moment, he called out again, loud enough to still be heard.

"Fine! I'll see you tonight then, sweetheart. Get ready for the night of your life."

I didn't respond, not least of all because I didn't trust myself to. If Flynn was all in, then so was I. And I absolutely couldn't wait for our date tonight, from the dinner to the drinks to whatever might come after.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[darklove9314-blog]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Crescent City Series - Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Hunt Athalar/Bryce Quinlan, Lidia Cervos/Ruhn Danaan, Baxian Argos/Danika Fendyr, Celestina/Hypaxia Enador, Declan Emmet/Marc Rosarin, Ithan Holstrom/Unnamed Wolf Mystic, Ariadne/Tristan Flynn, Juniper Andromeda/Fury Axtar, Nesta Archeron/Cassian, Feyre Archeron/Rhysand, Elain Archeron/Azriel, Azriel/Gwyneth Berdara, Elain Archeron/Lucien Vanserra, Amren/Varian (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Emerie/Morrigan (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Lucien Vanserra/Vassa, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Rowan Whitethorn, Manon Blackbeak/Dorian Havilliard, Yrene Towers Westfall/Chaol Westfall, Elide Lochan/Lorcan Salvaterre, Aedion Ashryver/Lysandra, Nesryn Faliq/Sartaq Characters: Bryce Quinlan, Hunt Athalar, Baxian Argos, Hypaxia Enador, Lidia Cervos, Ruhn Danaan, Tharion Ketos, Cassian, Elain Archeron, Emerie (A Court of Thorns and Roses), Feyre Archeron, Gwyneth Berdara, Lucien Vanserra, Morrigan, Nesta Archeron, Nyx Archeron, Rhysand, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien, Rowan Whitethorn, Dorian Havilliard, Manon Blackbeak, Chaol Westfall, Elide Lochan, Aedion Ashryver, Lorcan Salvaterre, Sartaq (Throne of Glass), Nesryn Faliq, Declan Emmet, Ithan Holstrom, Tristan Flynn, Celestina (Crescent City Series), The Autumn King (Crescent City Series), Rigelus (Crescent City Series), Aidas (Crescent City Series), Apollion (Crescent City Series), Sabine Fendyr, Ariadne (Crescent City Series), Ember Quinlan, Jesiba Roga, Juniper Andromeda, Fury Axtar, Pollux Antonius, Danika Fendyr, Connor Holstrom, Cormac Donnall Additional Tags: Crossover, Fantasy, Romance, Angst Summary:

Since it'll be a while until we get HOFAS, I thought it would be fun to write a fic of how I think the story will turn out. (Major Spoilers for House of Sky and Breath if you have not read it yet. Proceed with caution!!)

[mystical-blaise]

THRILLER NIGHT: A CRESCENT CITY KINKTOBER EVENT

Something Evil's Lurking in the Dark

Thriller Night: Part 6 - Declan x Marc

Declan Emmet is a male on a Death Day mission of discovery. One he had entirely resigned himself to alone. Until a storm rolls in, forcing him to face his greatest fear—and revealing wicked things hidden in the dark.

Content Warnings: NSFW, M/M

Read on Ao3

Author: @mystical-blaise | Masterlist

This is the sixth installment of Thriller Nights: A Crescent City Kinktober Event. Make sure to check out the rest of the collection and the other amazing authors!

Part 1: Ruhn x Lidia by @hlizr50

Part 2: Hunt x Bryce by @headcanonheadcase

Part 3: Ithan x Wolf Mystic by @headcanonheadcase  

Part 4: Hypaxia x Celestina by @damedechance

Part 5: Fury x Juniper by @vikingmagic33

Part 6: Declan x Marc by @mystical-blaise

Part 7: Flynn x Ariadne by @ofduskanddreams

Part 8: Tharion by @damedechance

Thriller Night Masterlist

Declan Emmett hurried the short distance from the parlor to the library, eager to review what, if anything, they'd caught during the seance. Despite suspecting that the entire thing was complete bullshit, excitement prevailed.

Placing the recording devices down, he took a seat at the sturdy mahogany table, his makeshift command center for the overnight stay. The library was the perfect location. Centralized and quiet, with plenty of space for his array of laptops, monitors, and stacks of carefully packed backup equipment. Far enough from the thumping base and partying in the kitchen. 

He'd learned the lesson long ago that laptops and parties don't mix. Fun fact; melted jello shots and a keyboard were a terrible combination.

Note to self, Flynn still owed him a computer. 

This night at the haunted house was Dec's idea after Lidia had nixed any notion of yet another drunken, rowdy celebration at their shared home with a fuck no. Not that he blamed her one bit. Cleanup was a bitch and a half. So now, at his suggestion, they were here at the "haunted" house on the outskirts of Lunathion.

While the remaining members of Team Fuck-You might have come for spooky Death Day revelry, Dec was there for an entirely different purpose: to document proof. Some evidence that secondlight was now free to roam, free to exist. Perhaps even some vindication for a younger Declan who used to hear things go bump in the night in his childhood home—and the reason he still secretly hated the dark. 

Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone other than Ruhn and Flynn. And that was only after they'd witnessed him in a near panic attack. After all, he would have never made it out of those damn Avallen catacombs without their encouragement. Their loyalty.

Muffled laughter traveled through the far wall as the gathering carried on without him—and had carried Marc with it.

Not that he could blame his boyfriend. As of late, the two of them had been like ships passing on the Istros. The entrepreneur, now CFO of his own company, had been stuck late to work almost every day, cutting into every single date night for nearly three weeks. 

Three. Weeks. Three very long, frustrating weeks.

It wore on both of them. Stress and exhaustion showed in the circles under the shifter's usually brilliant topaz eyes, in his lumbering stride. So much so, Declan even felt guilty for asking Marc to assist with tonight's setup. 

His boyfriend deserved a night to dress down and chill, to have fun. 

But perhaps selfishly, the fellow techy had hoped he'd want to chill with him. Find what he was up to interesting to spend some time together staring at the monitors.

Yeah, real fun. Like he said; selfish.

Back to the task at hand, Declan glanced between the two screens; one streaming live while the other allowed him to pull up any previously recorded video. Plugging in the video recorder to transfer the file, he put the stupidly expensive, noise-canceling headphones on his head as he studied the green-hued footage.

Each nightvision camera had been placed strategically in and near the locations that stories claimed were the most haunted. Unfortunately, all Declan was seeing was evidence of other activities.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbled as he stared at the screen, staring at Ruhn and Lidia emerging from the study, a fine sheen of sweat over their brows and a shit-eating grin on the Crown Prince of the Valbaran fae. Rewinding a little further back and raising the volume, Declan heard exactly the reason for Ruhn's pleased expression.

Gods knew he'd heard those same noises plenty of times coming from his roommates' bedrooms on too many nights.

A deeply masculine groan sounded over the audio.  

Declan set his head in his hand. "Ruhn, I swear to Urd. You couldn't keep it in your pants for one godsdamn night?"

And apparently, Ruhn and Lidia weren't the only ones having trouble.

Next, there was a wobbly-legged, disheveled Bryce who blew a kiss at the camera before she and a smug Hunt strolled back into the kitchen. Quinlan gave Athalar's ass a good slap before the door closed behind them.

Then there was Fury glaring up at another camera poised outside the door to the basement. A look that promised death if he followed her to presumably wherever June was. Noted. For his own safety, he promptly turned off the basement camera feed.

Moving to another view, there were Ithan and Willow, walking down the stairwell from the third floor, her pigtails and pants askew. His arm slung over her shoulder, trying to help fix the hair best he could, ultimately resorting to plopping a baseball cap down atop her head. He kissed her blushing cheek, a look of pure masculine pride lining the pup's handsome features.

Rolling his eyes and shifting in his seat, Declan switched over to the live. All six cameras seemed normal—except for one. 

The master suite on the second floor. 

Stories claimed that a crying woman in white, as pretty as Luna herself, was seen pacing the room and floor. Other stories told of a more devious shadowy figure slinking through the drafty halls. He had Marc mount a camera in the room's upper southwest corner, in perfect view of the entire space and the open doorway. In case the alleged specter was wandering the halls, the stairs—the very same that had caught Ruhn and Lidia.

But although the camera registered a signal in that room, there was nothing but a blank box on the split screen. 

He squinted, moving to the other monitor to review the older footage to see if there was anything. There. And just as a tall, shadowed figure. There was an oily sheen to the humanoid form as the silhouette moved incredibly fast across the lower right of the screen—

Lightning and thunder flashed and clapped in unison, plunging the house into utter darkness.

A distant, slurred, hey, who turned off the fucking light, joined the chorus of muttered curses and surprised shrieks sounded through the plaster and lath walls of the old mansion.

Thanks to the portable backup battery, there was still the dim glow of the steadfast monitors and the constant hum of the computers—for now. Even so, the rest of the house was nothing beyond but a void.

Shit.

A foreboding creak resonated in the dark.

"Guys?" Nothing. "Guys, this isn't funny." 

Was he… alone?

No. No fucking way. The rest of them were just being dicks. That was all.

The sudden familiar, unjustified panic of his childhood crept up his spine. Like bony fingers reaching out of the past, out of the shadows, reaching for him again. Declan stiffened, swallowing hard as he reminded himself of what his parents used to calm him. The dark wasn't bad. The sounds were just the wind or the house settling. Repeating those same words of reassurance, he reached out for one of the three compact flashlights he'd packed just for this instance.

His thumb pushed on the rubber button. Click—and nothing. 

"Come on," he said, shaking it as if that would actually work. With a press of the button again, still nothing. Bringing it closer to the bluish dull glow of the monitors, he removed the batteries. The fresh ones he'd put in just before he'd packed up. How could they be drained already?

Nervously, he picked up the third flashlight—his backup for his backup that Ruhn had made fun of—finding it oddly lightweight. Too light. Unscrewing the back, he found the battery pack empty.

Godsdamn…

Okay. No problem, he just needed more light. Any light. His phone. 

He dug into his back pocket and found… nothing. Not even his spare lighter. Fucking Flynn.

Given all the mirthroot his roomies brought, one of those fuckers had to have a light. Hel, maybe Ruhn could use that barely useful sparkle of light he possessed. Or better yet…

Bryce. Or even Athalar—if they would have remembered to keep their godsdamn walkie. 

As if any of them would have remembered given the keg Tristan had rolled in earlier.

"Shit. Shit. Okay. Okay." Declan sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Calm the fuck down. You know what you need. You need…" Something to do. To focus on.

His eyes skipped back to the glowing flat-screen monitors, to the battery-fueled cameras still rolling. Straight back to the blank square on the bottom right corner of the six-split screen.

The mission pushed his fear aside, much like it did when he was out in the field with the Aux. Give Dec a task, and he was on it regardless of what was going on around him.

He could find out why the camera wasn't working. Fix it. Totally forget about the weird shadowy figure in that damn room that had something to do with it.

No, just fix the damn thing. You're a problem solver, Declan. Mr. Reliable-as-fuck.

In the darkness, he felt around the floor, finding his smaller duffel bag filled with some equipment and supplies. 

Even with his fae eyesight, he could barely see shit. His eyes caught on one device on the table. He grabbed for it, muttering a please work under his breath as he pressed the power button.

The thermal camera's screen flared to life.

"Thank Urd," Declan breathed out as made out the different heat signatures of the shelves and books, the table, and his equipment, giving him a visual of the space in the darkness. 

And gave him the boost of confidence to set the strap of the duffel over his shoulder and go in search of the room with the broken camera.

With the space lit up on the screen in shades of violet and blue, cold on the spectrum, there were some fading oranges on the steps from when some guests had walked. Declan took the stairs hurriedly, praying to all the gods that there was no one behind him.

But he just had this feeling.

That prickling on the back of his neck and a niggling of his fae senses. 

Finally reaching the landing on the second floor, he relied on the small visual representation of the long hallway, counting the doors until he reached the one on the far left. And he swore as he walked he smelled sweet… smoke.

Cigar? No…

Wait? Wasn't there a story about the original owner?

He shook that thought out of his head. Probably someone with the fucking mirthroot getting blazed.

His hand reached for the doorknob to the master suite and—

Creak.

Not daring to turn around, the genius just called out, "Hello?"

He could hear Flynn in his head—while mock slow clapping—going, Smooth, Dec. Hello? Really, dude? What if it's a killer-stalker, huh? And then Ruhn's voice chimed in with, Yeah, you just gave away your position. You're an Aux member, remember? Use that giant brain of yours.

Yeah, he was an Aux member, trained for combat. He survived the Drop. His Ordeal. The latter barely. And he still couldn't shake the same feeling he'd had that night in that terrible cave—the feeling of being followed.

Fuck this. 

He spun around, pointing the camera back down the hall, finding only residual heat from his own treadmarks on the planked floor, all glowing orange and yellow. Even farther back to the landing.

But no weird floating, undiscernible blobs or misty humanoid figures. Just his overactive terrifying imagination mixed with his fear and wanting to actually see something.

Confidence renewed and led by the camera, he took the knob and strolled into the room with the busted equipment.  

The room was… 

Empty. 

Nothing but the sounds of lashing rain and the howl of the wind banging the louvered wooden shutters sealed over the windows. Not even the lightning graced Declan with a bit of illumination in the reportedly most haunted location in the pitch-black house. 

Basically, Declan Emmet's nightmare scenario.

On the thermal, he could make out the ethereal, hazy violet silhouette of a large bureau against the far wall covered with a sheet like a shroud. Heavy curtains covered the windows, blocking out the outside world. And then there was an ornately carved, massive four-poster bed.

A low massive blur of orange and yellow zipped passed through the image. Something with glinting, burning eyes.

And then it was simply… gone. 

"What the…?"

Panning the room, he tried to follow the direction of the unknown shape.

Something slid around and rubbed against his leg. All he could think of was a hand grabbing for him under the bed out of the shadows of Hel just like in his childhood…

"Boo."

He spun around as a crouching form on all fours rose onto two legs, keeping his camera pointed like a weapon. A towering, muscular male figure rose up in the viewfinder. Declan's heart nearly fucking stopped.

"Burning fucking Solas! You scared the shit out of me!"

Marc's squared, broad shoulders moved with his deep chuckle on the thermal. And if Declan wasn't so pissed off, he might have taken more time to appreciate the entire glorious, naked build delineated by the heat signatures more thoroughly.

"That was you that touched my leg?"

He smirked. "My tail, to be exact."

Cursing under his breath, Declan rolled his neck, his shoulders, and made his way to the wireless camera mount. The camera now oddly twisted to face the corner. 

With the battery icon already flashing red, the warning that death was imminent, Dec set the thermal to point upwards to give him some ambient light as he worked, swiveling the equipment around back into position. No need for his tools after all.

"Dec," came that low, familiar voice. 

"What?" he snapped back after adjusting everything back in place, assuring the only way the camera was moving again was if someone fucked with it. Which is exactly what he suspected had happened. A prank. Another prank, anyway.

"Hey, Dec, are you mad?"

He didn't reply to that, because what could he say? Yeah, he was pissed and annoyed and—

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Declan! I was just having a little fun. You were the one who wanted to come here. You convinced me it would be fun for Death Day." 

"Yeah, and that's what everyone else is doing. But you also know I was taking this seriously, too. But if you'd rather go hang with them…" He blew out a curse, dragging a hand through his dark red waves, tugging at the ends in frustration. "You know what? Forget it."

"Hey," Marc breathed out, the sound ever closer. Dec refused to turn around. Those massive hands gently grasped his shoulders, rubbing up and down over his biceps. "I know out of your housemates you're the most responsible but—"

Declan huffed out a laugh, nearly shrugging off Marc's touch. "And what about you? You're the epitome of responsibility."

"Maybe dating a hot-as-Hel party boy has made me want to have some fun. Live a little."

"You mean I gave you a personality?"

With a chuckle, he gave Declan's shoulders a rub, then another. And Dec could feel the tension melt away with each ministration of those magic hands.

"No, smartass," Marc replied, his fingers kneading harder. "You make me want to cut loose and have a good time. When I'm with you, I don't have to be—"

Declan sighed with gratitude and forgiveness, leaning into Marc's working palms. "Don't have to be the sexy-as-fuck start-up tech company founder?"

Lips trailed the back of the fae male's neck. "Exactly. You make me want to have fun again, Dec. I shouldn't have at your expense, though. I apologize if I scared you."

"I'm sorry I flipped, babe. I'm just a little on edge," Declan admitted in his relaxing haze, his eyes adjusting to the dark, and still seeing nothing. Still, he was grounded by Marc's reassuring touch, his own hand coming up to rest upon the leopard shifter's much larger one.

"Mmm… I can tell."

"I just… I saw something when I was a kid in my room. I mean, this was before all the shit we know now about what the Asteri was doing with the secondlight. Before I really knew about Hel, you know? My parents didn't believe me, but I swear to all that's holy, Marc, there was something in the dark in my room." Something evil lurking in the dark, a demon reaching for him. Despite himself, he still shuddered at the very thought. 

Marc's firm grip continued to knead muscle, those full lips placing tender kisses on the back of Dec's bare neck, making him blush in the night. Almost like a fog, the ancient bedchamber became thick with desire. As electric as the sky outside.

"That's why I'm determined to find some evidence, Marc. Maybe just to prove I wasn't crazy. Hel, we have a damn necromancer; if there are spirits here, there should be something… if spirits can now freely roam around." Or if they were indeed stuck here in hiding from the Under King for centuries. "And I know it's Death Day, and I know all my friends want to party. It's supposed to be a night of—"

"Mischief," Marc offered before the briefest touch of his lips to the tip of Declan's delicately arched fae ear. Another soft press of lips. "I love that about you, Dec. How focused you get on a task. How determined you are."

"Well, someone has to be. Everyone else here is so focused on fucking—" His lips pressed together, holding in a grateful moan as those fingers continued to work at the tension.

"You don't say. And how do you know what everyone was doing, I wonder? Declan Emmet, were you watching?" Marc asked with feigned outrage.

Even though he couldn't see a damn thing, Dec still twisted his face to peer over his left shoulder. "You make me sound like a perv. It wasn't on purpose."

Marc's warm breath brushed his lips. "I'm sure. They're a horny bunch. But I bet it still turned you on, just a little."

Declan wasn't going to respond to that accusation—even though the shifter's words were on point. Yes, he was turned on, just a little. Maybe it had started from all the dirty sounds caught on the microphones, but now it only had to do with the beast of a male standing behind him.

The handsome male whose wide palms were now skimming from his shoulders and over his biceps.

"What—" Declan swallowed hard as the heat of the towering shifter pressed into his back, searing him deep as it always did. Maybe it was the residual autumn fae in him, but he was attracted to the depth of his warmth, inside and out. Then a wide hand skimmed over the front of his shirt, down further still. Lower and lower, until he reached the top of his black jeans, that he finally managed to finish his ask. "What are you doing?"

Marc's dark chuckle brushed against the shell of his ear. "Like you, I'm eager for evidence, Declan." Teeth nipped and tugged on his earlobe, on the steel hoop in his ear. Lust shot through him, his body responding to the wicked little nip in the dark. Declan gasped, tipping his head back in a groan as that wandering touch cupped him through the denim, finding his hard length. "There it is."

"Fuck," Declan hissed, unable to hide, unable to feel anything. Unable to think about his goal for the evening. Not when the heel of that palm was rubbing him in rough circles. Not when his hips were pushing against that hand, desperate for more sensation.

"You like that?" Marc crooned.

Declan groaned, his erection uncomfortable in the confines of the denim, the delicate skin digging into the metal zipper. 

When his hand reached back to pull Marc to him, he knew what he would find. With his clothes long removed before he shifted, only beautiful bare skin and corded, hard muscles remained. Aside from his shifter genes, his physique was delineated by years of regimented workouts and healthy eating. Marc was thorough, practiced and put together in all things. But if his sexy, put-together, tech executive wanted to cut loose tonight. If he wanted to let loose with Declan, then so be it. 

"Dec," Marc hissed as the redheaded male ground back against him to the tempo of the hand working his front, the shifter's hardness already a taunt against his ass. 

"What?" he asked teasingly. "You want me to let loose and have a good time tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Marc said, his words ending with a grunt as Declan bumped him backward.

Despite not being able to see Marc, Dec turned around to face him. "Then let's let loose. Get on your knees, babe."

Over the howl of the wind outside, he heard the shifter's knees hitting the wooden floor before him.

Declan whipped off his gray t-shirt, tossing it away to some corner. His hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it open. Then he towed the zipper down, taking his time, the sound of it somehow more arousing in the absence of light, of sight. As he worked his jeans down his thighs, he grabbed hold of his cock.

"Godsdamn," Marc growled.

With the satisfaction that he could bring the mighty leopard shifter to heel, Declan gave himself a pump. Then another, slow and firm, his head falling back and eyes shut with the wringing pleasure. "You and your damn shifter eyes. You can see me, can't you?"

"Fuck yeah. And I love what I'm seeing."

Wrist twisting on the upstroke, his thumb smeared the bead of liquid gathering over the tip. And he swore the enormous leopard shifter whined at that. Good.

Still stroking himself, Declan followed the alluring scent of sandalwood and rain and heady arousal until he could sense the body heat radiating off the other male. 

He cursed as his head dropped back, his grip tightened, and the pumping became rougher and faster. "Open."

Heat puffed over throbbing skin, a tempting combination of hot and wet. Marc's tongue slid back and forth as Dec tapped his stiff cock against it. From the base to the tip, that talented tongue laved unprovoked, tormenting and flicking every sensitive inch. 

With his mind almost blown with need, he couldn't stop the demand welling up from his lips. "Oh fuck, Marc"—his breath caught—"suck me."

And holy Hel, he did. No hesitation, only a satisfying growl before Marc's mouth closed around him and sucked him down, his hand peeling Dec's away so he could take control. That hand wrapped around his cock while the other clamped onto the fae male's hip, those fingers biting into the flesh of his ass— 

Grasping Marc's head, Declan thrust his hips forward.

He wished he could see it. See himself disappear in that sensual mouth, sinking in as topaz eyes blazed into his own. But, burning Solas, the blind feel of him in the darkness… The way Marc's cheeks hollowed out and his tongue swirled around, coating him in the warm sensation of his mouth, his lover's enthusiasm dripping down his length to his sac. His own rapid panting blended with the enthused sloppiness and pleasured hum of the supplicant, sexy male before him.

A wandering finger slipped in between the crevice of his ass, circling the tight hole there. Circling endlessly. An opening, tantalizing tease. Until that thick finger finally pressed in.

Unable to stop himself, Declan bucked forward, forcing himself down Marc's throat until the shifter's nose met his pelvis. "Fuck!"'

Marc merely chuckled darkly, sinking his finger deeper and deeper. Declan wasn't even sure how either of them could breathe. They were frantic, muscles straining and flexing, racing to the edge. With each passing moment, Dec's brow beaded with sweat.

He moaned, scraping his fingernails across Marc's scalp. His hand tightened on the back of that head in plea and warning. His shifter male only loosed a muffled groan, still sucking and fingering him.

Climax came on as suddenly as an autumn storm. Shaking from head to toe, his damn knees nearly gave out as his release spilled over and over. And Marc took it all. Didn't let up, still working him as the last blissful tremors of orgasm ebbed. In a lazy glide, his boyfriend's mouth drew off of him and that digit slipped out, making him shiver.

"Gods…" Declan swallowed hard, trying to regain balance. Marc pressed a sweet kiss to the scar across his stomach. "Babe, that was—" 

His words cut off with a rough, demanding kiss. The taste of himself on Marc's tongue went directly to his head, still dizzy with pleasure and desire. They both groaned as the shifter's hard, demanding length pressed against Dec's stomach, spurring his own back to attention. 

Marc always did that to him. No matter what, with him, he always seemed ready to go. 

"Luna fucking save me," Marc said with a groan, grabbing onto his partner's ass to bring him closer, as they writhed against each other. That finger teased Dec again from behind with just enough pressure to drive him wild. "I want to fuck you so bad. You have no idea how bad. If only—"

"I brought lube."

With an erotic chuckle, Marc slowed the roll of his hips and asked, "What?"

"I-fuck. I brought lube."

Marc snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"

Declan reached down, gripping Marc's thick cock at the base, taking satisfaction at the hitch in the larger male's breath. "Always prepared, seldom disappointed." 

"I would expect nothing less from a former Otter Scout. Bet you know how to tie all sorts of knots, too."

His hum practically a purr, Declan answered with, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh, make no mistake, I do. But not this time. Right now, I need to fuck you and in order to do that, I need that lube. So where are you packing such a thing?"

"In my bag. I actually brought it to loosen the stuck screws holding up the cameras. It was all I could find in a pinch." A pinch was an understatement. All of his mechanical lubricants had mysteriously disappeared. Declan didn't want to know the why or the what. "So I just took the first thing I thought of."

"In the duffel you brought with you?" Declan nodded vigorously, his mind solely on the drag. He pushed his hips forward, the friction alone of their dicks against one another nearly enough to make him come again. But before he could, Marc was gone.

There was a brief rustling sound over to the left and then—

Kissing him senseless, breathless, pants still tangled around his thighs, Dec was marched backward, stumbling until his back met something. That something unyielding and rounded against his spine. They kissed and kissed and it only stopped when a deep, rasping voice demanded as he tugged on the open flap of denim, "Off."

He didn't have to be told twice, already shoving them off, removing everything in a blur. Stripping until it was just the two of them, skin to skin, clothed only in darkness. 

In a blink, Declan was spun around, his hands finding and clasping around the carved wood pillar now at his front. A bedpost, he realized absently.

"God, have I told you how much I love your back, Dec? These shoulders." Whack! Dec jumped as a splayed palm came down on his rear, then rubbed out the slight hurt. "This perfect ass of yours. It's the prettiest sight."

"Well, at least you can see me. I feel like it's unfair that I can't see—" Declan's scoff turned into a moan as something chilled slid between the seam of his ass.

Pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive spot below Declan's ear, his boyfriend's whisper a silken persuasion. "It's just the two of us here, alone and together. Embrace it, Dec. I'll always lead you out of the darkness if you let me."

And Declan knew at that moment Marc always would.

The wet slide of a tongue down the column of his neck had Declan's hips bucking backward, feeling that massive cock slipping against him. 

Marc's cool, coated fingers found their way, pressing, pushing into him, working him just enough. One… Then two… Fuck, three fingers. Even after all this time, after all their bouts together, the leopard shifter still took good care. Something he was eternally grateful for. 

Declan was no slouch of a male. As a member of the Aux, he took good care of his body. But the leopard shifter still dwarfed him, made him feel small. Marc was flawless. Chiseled dark-skinned perfection with broad shoulders, perfect for holding onto. And while Dec had seen a variety of fine dicks in his day, had experienced his fair share—nothing and no one compared to Marc Rosarin.

No one ever would.

Not to mention, none of the males before had a pierced cock, either. Not even the draki he'd had an intense, albeit brief, fling with. 

Who would have thought that out of all of them, the one pierced there was the put-together tech entrepreneur? And, Solas, what that little barbell of steel through the tip could do… 

As fingers slid out, he heard that telltale click and squirt, followed by a hoarse groan in the darkness. Though he couldn't see it, the fae male could picture it clearly. How Marc's forehead furrowed as he stroked the thick liquid over his shaft. The dark, rigid length of him glistening and ready, already weeping with need.

A soft kiss on his shoulder and a settling grip on one hip helped tip the redhead's head back as another jarring drip of cold fell on his skin.

Declan gripped the post, his knees widening as he braced himself. His brows drew together as that broad blunt head started to push in. Slowly easing, gliding in inch by delicious inch. Each gain intensified the pressure, the burning stretch that tensed them both.

After another slow thrust, Dec's body had time to adjust as Marc stilled. All the while, the broad, calloused palm spanning his flank caressed and soothed as if the solid wall of male behind him was the one with the true healing power. 

"Fuck, you're still so tight. Have I told you how amazing you feel, Dec? Like you were made for me." 

Declan shivered at the gruff possessiveness in his voice. Shaking. He was shaking. Was going to jump out of his skin. Godsdamn. There was more power in everything without sight. Everything was more sensitive. Words. Touch. Already too good. Already too full.

Still, he was greedy tonight. For Marc to be with him. To take everything, to have everything. To swap his earlier fear with this pleasure only this male could give him. 

"Marc, it's okay if you don't—" A grunt and groan followed. "Don't be gentle tonight."

Knuckles tilted Declan's chin upward. Marc's words were full of gravel when he asked, "You sure?"

While Declan could not see Marc beyond a hazy silhouette, he knew Marc could clearly read his intentions. "Yes."

"You got it, tiger." 

Gripping him by the hips, Marc's mouth slammed on Dec's at the same time his pelvis surged forward, driving all the way in on a single thrust. Holy fucking Hel, Declan had to force himself not to scream, not to lose it all right there.

Ragged breath puffed against his mouth, both of them trembling as Marc held himself still again, both of them trembling and throats bobbing.

And then Marc was moving, pulling out before plunging back in. Each time, Declan could feel the drag of chilled metal, stroking deep to hit that spot that made him see stars. 

He rocked back into it, bracing and trying to keep up with the rhythm as every sliding thrust shoved him farther into the solid wooden post, jostling the entire bedframe.

So full…. So deep… So deep inside him…

Declan's desperate whimper had Marc fucking him even deeper, hitting that spot over and over. 

Something in the pathetic sound must have begged for more, because a brawny arm came around his torso, bearing his back, his weight, to the shifter's sweaty, muscled front as he continued to pound him into oblivion. Every hammering thrust bounced his erection against his abs. Had Marc's balls slapping off his ass. 

Everything was wild and frenzied. Primal. So much that Declan could almost imagine what Marc's sharp claws would feel like gently scraping across his skin. Wanted that lick of pain. Wanted to bruise.

He was climbing higher and higher, his spine tingling with the need to come. Marc reached around, cupping his balls with a squeeze, before he fisted Declan's cock, gripping him tightly.

"Shit!… Marc!" Dec panted through gritted teeth.

"Are you close? Can you do it, tiger? Can you come for me again?"

Declan's response was little more than a yelp as those hips slammed into him.

With that slippery hand jerking his dick, that swollen cock fucking his ass, Declan couldn't hold back. 

Too much. It was too good.

Everything went taut and dark, then bright like starlight behind the eyelids Dec didn't even realize he'd closed. He cried out as he came all over Marc's hand, smearing between fingers and over skin as Marc didn't let up.

It went on and on. Those powerful hips behind kept their pace, going and going until—

"Fuck!" Marc shouted, burying himself to the hilt, each pulse kicking deep inside, over and over. With one last shudder, finally spent, the shifter's head fell forward until his forehead rested on Declan's mussed red waves. 

The hand on Declan's front shifted until it spread over the center—over his heart.

And then everything went still as the wind whistled outside around the house, rattling the shutters. They didn't move, simply held each other in the dark, relishing in the silence, soaking in their love for one another.

"You okay?" Marc asked, pressing a tender kiss into his hair that shot straight to Dec's heart.

"More than okay."

Slowly, gently, carefully, Marc slid out, caressing along Declan's spine as he did so. "That was…"

"Yeah…" Declan said. 

"I'm sorry."

Still wrapped in his arms, he turned around to face him. Declan wound his arms around Marc's neck. "For what? The best sex of my life?"

"Best sex so far," Marc countered, sighing before he continued. "I'm sorry I disappeared earlier. Made you think I didn't care about you. Truth is, I was in the kitchen to grab us some beers—I was on my way back to you when I got sucked into a conversation. You know how that crew can be. But you have to know the only reason I came to this party tonight was to spend time with you, Dec. I've missed you."

Softly and sweetly, he kissed him. "I've missed you too, babe. Now, can you find my bag? And my clothes? I still can't see shit."

After pressing his lips to Dec's forehead, Marc laughed, untangling himself from the fae male's arms. "Sure thing, tiger. Only if you promise to grab my clothes from the other room."

Declan snorted, wishing he could watch Marc walk away. Because, damn. "Didn't think that whole shifting leopard prank through, did you?"

"No, I did not. Here," he said, handing Dec his bag. He set it down, squatting to feel for supplies. "When we get back downstairs, I'll grab those beers I promised and we'll park it in front of those monitors. Maybe make out a little. What do you say?"

Declan couldn't hide the smile in his voice as he said, "Sounds great."

"Good. But first I need to clean up."

Declan was already taking out wipes, water, and hand sanitizer. Things he had brought with greasy hands and malfunctioning equipment in mind originally, but... "Always the Otter Scout," he quipped, blindly tossing his boyfriend the towel.

Marc laughed huskily. "Indeed, and I'm so very—ah, Hel."

"What?"

"I forgot you readjusted it before we…" He cleared his throat. "I don't know how to say this, Dec, but the camera was pointed at us the entire time."

His amber eyes snapping up, his face heated with the realization. "Oh fuck me."

"Already did, but if you want to go again, I'm more than happy to."

Merciful Cthona. Leave it to Declan Emmet, tech genius, to accidentally record a nightvision sex tape after making comments about no one else being able to keep it in their pants.

Tag list: @hlizr50 @daevastanner @damedechance @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @ofduskanddreams

[lily-chen-supremacy]

flynn: and now for a gay update with declan emmet

declan: very gay

*marc walks by*

declan:

flynn:

declan: getting gayer

flynn: thank you declan

[zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas]

“Declan had been seeing Marc Rosarin for a month now, having met the tech entrepreneur during some fancy party at one of the big engineering companies in the Central Business District.”

ohmygod

[hlizr50]

Get ready for Dec and Marc!

THRILLER NIGHT: A CRESCENT CITY KINKTOBER EVENT

Something Evil's Lurking in the Dark

Thriller Night: Part 6 - Declan x Marc

Declan Emmet is a male on a Death Day mission of discovery. One he had entirely resigned himself to alone. Until a storm rolls in, forcing him to face his greatest fear—and revealing wicked things hidden in the dark.

Content Warnings: NSFW, M/M

Read on Ao3

Author: @mystical-blaise | Masterlist

This is the sixth installment of Thriller Nights: A Crescent City Kinktober Event. Make sure to check out the rest of the collection and the other amazing authors!

Part 1: Ruhn x Lidia by @HLizR50 (tag the author)

Part 2: Hunt x Bryce by @headcanonheadcase

Part 3: Ithan x Wolf Mystic by @headcanonheadcase  

Part 4: Hypaxia x Celestina by @damedechance

Part 5: Fury x Juniper by @vikingmagic33

Part 6: Declan x Marc by @mystical-blaise

Part 7: Flynn x Ariadne by @ofduskanddreams

Part 8: Tharion by @damedechance

Thriller Night Masterlist

Declan Emmett hurried the short distance from the parlor to the library, eager to review what, if anything, they'd caught during the seance. Despite suspecting that the entire thing was complete bullshit, excitement prevailed.

Placing the recording devices down, he took a seat at the sturdy mahogany table, his makeshift command center for the overnight stay. The library was the perfect location. Centralized and quiet, with plenty of space for his array of laptops, monitors, and stacks of carefully packed backup equipment. Far enough from the thumping base and partying in the kitchen. 

He'd learned the lesson long ago that laptops and parties don't mix. Fun fact; melted jello shots and a keyboard were a terrible combination.

Note to self, Flynn still owed him a computer. 

This night at the haunted house was Dec's idea after Lidia had nixed any notion of yet another drunken, rowdy celebration at their shared home with a fuck no. Not that he blamed her one bit. Cleanup was a bitch and a half. So now, at his suggestion, they were here at the "haunted" house on the outskirts of Lunathion.

While the remaining members of Team Fuck-You might have come for spooky Death Day revelry, Dec was there for an entirely different purpose: to document proof. Some evidence that secondlight was now free to roam, free to exist. Perhaps even some vindication for a younger Declan who used to hear things go bump in the night in his childhood home—and the reason he still secretly hated the dark. 

Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone other than Ruhn and Flynn. And that was only after they'd witnessed him in a near panic attack. After all, he would have never made it out of those damn Avallen catacombs without their encouragement. Their loyalty.

Muffled laughter traveled through the far wall as the gathering carried on without him—and had carried Marc with it.

Not that he could blame his boyfriend. As of late, the two of them had been like ships passing on the Istros. The entrepreneur, now CFO of his own company, had been stuck late to work almost every day, cutting into every single date night for nearly three weeks. 

Three. Weeks. Three very long, frustrating weeks.

It wore on both of them. Stress and exhaustion showed in the circles under the shifter's usually brilliant topaz eyes, in his lumbering stride. So much so, Declan even felt guilty for asking Marc to assist with tonight's setup. 

His boyfriend deserved a night to dress down and chill, to have fun. 

But perhaps selfishly, the fellow techy had hoped he'd want to chill with him. Find what he was up to interesting to spend some time together staring at the monitors.

Yeah, real fun. Like he said; selfish.

Back to the task at hand, Declan glanced between the two screens; one streaming live while the other allowed him to pull up any previously recorded video. Plugging in the video recorder to transfer the file, he put the stupidly expensive, noise-canceling headphones on his head as he studied the green-hued footage.

Each nightvision camera had been placed strategically in and near the locations that stories claimed were the most haunted. Unfortunately, all Declan was seeing was evidence of other activities.

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbled as he stared at the screen, staring at Ruhn and Lidia emerging from the study, a fine sheen of sweat over their brows and a shit-eating grin on the Crown Prince of the Valbaran fae. Rewinding a little further back and raising the volume, Declan heard exactly the reason for Ruhn's pleased expression.

Gods knew he'd heard those same noises plenty of times coming from his roommates' bedrooms on too many nights.

A deeply masculine groan sounded over the audio.  

Declan set his head in his hand. "Ruhn, I swear to Urd. You couldn't keep it in your pants for one godsdamn night?"

And apparently, Ruhn and Lidia weren't the only ones having trouble.

Next, there was a wobbly-legged, disheveled Bryce who blew a kiss at the camera before she and a smug Hunt strolled back into the kitchen. Quinlan gave Athalar's ass a good slap before the door closed behind them.

Then there was Fury glaring up at another camera poised outside the door to the basement. A look that promised death if he followed her to presumably wherever June was. Noted. For his own safety, he promptly turned off the basement camera feed.

Moving to another view, there were Ithan and Willow, walking down the stairwell from the third floor, her pigtails and pants askew. His arm slung over her shoulder, trying to help fix the hair best he could, ultimately resorting to plopping a baseball cap down atop her head. He kissed her blushing cheek, a look of pure masculine pride lining the pup's handsome features.

Rolling his eyes and shifting in his seat, Declan switched over to the live. All six cameras seemed normal—except for one. 

The master suite on the second floor. 

Stories claimed that a crying woman in white, as pretty as Luna herself, was seen pacing the room and floor. Other stories told of a more devious shadowy figure slinking through the drafty halls. He had Marc mount a camera in the room's upper southwest corner, in perfect view of the entire space and the open doorway. In case the alleged specter was wandering the halls, the stairs—the very same that had caught Ruhn and Lidia.

But although the camera registered a signal in that room, there was nothing but a blank box on the split screen. 

He squinted, moving to the other monitor to review the older footage to see if there was anything. There. And just as a tall, shadowed figure. There was an oily sheen to the humanoid form as the silhouette moved incredibly fast across the lower right of the screen—

Lightning and thunder flashed and clapped in unison, plunging the house into utter darkness.

A distant, slurred, hey, who turned off the fucking light, joined the chorus of muttered curses and surprised shrieks sounded through the plaster and lath walls of the old mansion.

Thanks to the portable backup battery, there was still the dim glow of the steadfast monitors and the constant hum of the computers—for now. Even so, the rest of the house was nothing beyond but a void.

Shit.

A foreboding creak resonated in the dark.

"Guys?" Nothing. "Guys, this isn't funny." 

Was he… alone?

No. No fucking way. The rest of them were just being dicks. That was all.

The sudden familiar, unjustified panic of his childhood crept up his spine. Like bony fingers reaching out of the past, out of the shadows, reaching for him again. Declan stiffened, swallowing hard as he reminded himself of what his parents used to calm him. The dark wasn't bad. The sounds were just the wind or the house settling. Repeating those same words of reassurance, he reached out for one of the three compact flashlights he'd packed just for this instance.

His thumb pushed on the rubber button. Click—and nothing. 

"Come on," he said, shaking it as if that would actually work. With a press of the button again, still nothing. Bringing it closer to the bluish dull glow of the monitors, he removed the batteries. The fresh ones he'd put in just before he'd packed up. How could they be drained already?

Nervously, he picked up the third flashlight—his backup for his backup that Ruhn had made fun of—finding it oddly lightweight. Too light. Unscrewing the back, he found the battery pack empty.

Godsdamn…

Okay. No problem, he just needed more light. Any light. His phone. 

He dug into his back pocket and found… nothing. Not even his spare lighter. Fucking Flynn.

Given all the mirthroot his roomies brought, one of those fuckers had to have a light. Hel, maybe Ruhn could use that barely useful sparkle of light he possessed. Or better yet…

Bryce. Or even Athalar—if they would have remembered to keep their godsdamn walkie. 

As if any of them would have remembered given the keg Tristan had rolled in earlier.

"Shit. Shit. Okay. Okay." Declan sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Calm the fuck down. You know what you need. You need…" Something to do. To focus on.

His eyes skipped back to the glowing flat-screen monitors, to the battery-fueled cameras still rolling. Straight back to the blank square on the bottom right corner of the six-split screen.

The mission pushed his fear aside, much like it did when he was out in the field with the Aux. Give Dec a task, and he was on it regardless of what was going on around him.

He could find out why the camera wasn't working. Fix it. Totally forget about the weird shadowy figure in that damn room that had something to do with it.

No, just fix the damn thing. You're a problem solver, Declan. Mr. Reliable-as-fuck.

In the darkness, he felt around the floor, finding his smaller duffel bag filled with some equipment and supplies. 

Even with his fae eyesight, he could barely see shit. His eyes caught on one device on the table. He grabbed for it, muttering a please work under his breath as he pressed the power button.

The thermal camera's screen flared to life.

"Thank Urd," Declan breathed out as made out the different heat signatures of the shelves and books, the table, and his equipment, giving him a visual of the space in the darkness. 

And gave him the boost of confidence to set the strap of the duffel over his shoulder and go in search of the room with the broken camera.

With the space lit up on the screen in shades of violet and blue, cold on the spectrum, there were some fading oranges on the steps from when some guests had walked. Declan took the stairs hurriedly, praying to all the gods that there was no one behind him.

But he just had this feeling.

That prickling on the back of his neck and a niggling of his fae senses. 

Finally reaching the landing on the second floor, he relied on the small visual representation of the long hallway, counting the doors until he reached the one on the far left. And he swore as he walked he smelled sweet… smoke.

Cigar? No…

Wait? Wasn't there a story about the original owner?

He shook that thought out of his head. Probably someone with the fucking mirthroot getting blazed.

His hand reached for the doorknob to the master suite and—

Creak.

Not daring to turn around, the genius just called out, "Hello?"

He could hear Flynn in his head—while mock slow clapping—going, Smooth, Dec. Hello? Really, dude? What if it's a killer-stalker, huh? And then Ruhn's voice chimed in with, Yeah, you just gave away your position. You're an Aux member, remember? Use that giant brain of yours.

Yeah, he was an Aux member, trained for combat. He survived the Drop. His Ordeal. The latter barely. And he still couldn't shake the same feeling he'd had that night in that terrible cave—the feeling of being followed.

Fuck this. 

He spun around, pointing the camera back down the hall, finding only residual heat from his own treadmarks on the planked floor, all glowing orange and yellow. Even farther back to the landing.

But no weird floating, undiscernible blobs or misty humanoid figures. Just his overactive terrifying imagination mixed with his fear and wanting to actually see something.

Confidence renewed and led by the camera, he took the knob and strolled into the room with the busted equipment.  

The room was… 

Empty. 

Nothing but the sounds of lashing rain and the howl of the wind banging the louvered wooden shutters sealed over the windows. Not even the lightning graced Declan with a bit of illumination in the reportedly most haunted location in the pitch-black house. 

Basically, Declan Emmet's nightmare scenario.

On the thermal, he could make out the ethereal, hazy violet silhouette of a large bureau against the far wall covered with a sheet like a shroud. Heavy curtains covered the windows, blocking out the outside world. And then there was an ornately carved, massive four-poster bed.

A low massive blur of orange and yellow zipped passed through the image. Something with glinting, burning eyes.

And then it was simply… gone. 

"What the…?"

Panning the room, he tried to follow the direction of the unknown shape.

Something slid around and rubbed against his leg. All he could think of was a hand grabbing for him under the bed out of the shadows of Hel just like in his childhood…

"Boo."

He spun around as a crouching form on all fours rose onto two legs, keeping his camera pointed like a weapon. A towering, muscular male figure rose up in the viewfinder. Declan's heart nearly fucking stopped.

"Burning fucking Solas! You scared the shit out of me!"

Marc's squared, broad shoulders moved with his deep chuckle on the thermal. And if Declan wasn't so pissed off, he might have taken more time to appreciate the entire glorious, naked build delineated by the heat signatures more thoroughly.

"That was you that touched my leg?"

He smirked. "My tail, to be exact."

Cursing under his breath, Declan rolled his neck, his shoulders, and made his way to the wireless camera mount. The camera now oddly twisted to face the corner. 

With the battery icon already flashing red, the warning that death was imminent, Dec set the thermal to point upwards to give him some ambient light as he worked, swiveling the equipment around back into position. No need for his tools after all.

"Dec," came that low, familiar voice. 

"What?" he snapped back after adjusting everything back in place, assuring the only way the camera was moving again was if someone fucked with it. Which is exactly what he suspected had happened. A prank. Another prank, anyway.

"Hey, Dec, are you mad?"

He didn't reply to that, because what could he say? Yeah, he was pissed and annoyed and—

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Declan! I was just having a little fun. You were the one who wanted to come here. You convinced me it would be fun for Death Day." 

"Yeah, and that's what everyone else is doing. But you also know I was taking this seriously, too. But if you'd rather go hang with them…" He blew out a curse, dragging a hand through his dark red waves, tugging at the ends in frustration. "You know what? Forget it."

"Hey," Marc breathed out, the sound ever closer. Dec refused to turn around. Those massive hands gently grasped his shoulders, rubbing up and down over his biceps. "I know out of your housemates you're the most responsible but—"

Declan huffed out a laugh, nearly shrugging off Marc's touch. "And what about you? You're the epitome of responsibility."

"Maybe dating a hot-as-Hel party boy has made me want to have some fun. Live a little."

"You mean I gave you a personality?"

With a chuckle, he gave Declan's shoulders a rub, then another. And Dec could feel the tension melt away with each ministration of those magic hands.

"No, smartass," Marc replied, his fingers kneading harder. "You make me want to cut loose and have a good time. When I'm with you, I don't have to be—"

Declan sighed with gratitude and forgiveness, leaning into Marc's working palms. "Don't have to be the sexy-as-fuck start-up tech company founder?"

Lips trailed the back of the fae male's neck. "Exactly. You make me want to have fun again, Dec. I shouldn't have at your expense, though. I apologize if I scared you."

"I'm sorry I flipped, babe. I'm just a little on edge," Declan admitted in his relaxing haze, his eyes adjusting to the dark, and still seeing nothing. Still, he was grounded by Marc's reassuring touch, his own hand coming up to rest upon the leopard shifter's much larger one.

"Mmm… I can tell."

"I just… I saw something when I was a kid in my room. I mean, this was before all the shit we know now about what the Asteri was doing with the secondlight. Before I really knew about Hel, you know? My parents didn't believe me, but I swear to all that's holy, Marc, there was something in the dark in my room." Something evil lurking in the dark, a demon reaching for him. Despite himself, he still shuddered at the very thought. 

Marc's firm grip continued to knead muscle, those full lips placing tender kisses on the back of Dec's bare neck, making him blush in the night. Almost like a fog, the ancient bedchamber became thick with desire. As electric as the sky outside.

"That's why I'm determined to find some evidence, Marc. Maybe just to prove I wasn't crazy. Hel, we have a damn necromancer; if there are spirits here, there should be something… if spirits can now freely roam around." Or if they were indeed stuck here in hiding from the Under King for centuries. "And I know it's Death Day, and I know all my friends want to party. It's supposed to be a night of—"

"Mischief," Marc offered before the briefest touch of his lips to the tip of Declan's delicately arched fae ear. Another soft press of lips. "I love that about you, Dec. How focused you get on a task. How determined you are."

"Well, someone has to be. Everyone else here is so focused on fucking—" His lips pressed together, holding in a grateful moan as those fingers continued to work at the tension.

"You don't say. And how do you know what everyone was doing, I wonder? Declan Emmet, were you watching?" Marc asked with feigned outrage.

Even though he couldn't see a damn thing, Dec still twisted his face to peer over his left shoulder. "You make me sound like a perv. It wasn't on purpose."

Marc's warm breath brushed his lips. "I'm sure. They're a horny bunch. But I bet it still turned you on, just a little."

Declan wasn't going to respond to that accusation—even though the shifter's words were on point. Yes, he was turned on, just a little. Maybe it had started from all the dirty sounds caught on the microphones, but now it only had to do with the beast of a male standing behind him.

The handsome male whose wide palms were now skimming from his shoulders and over his biceps. "What—" Declan swallowed hard as the heat of the towering shifter pressed into his back, searing him deep as it always did. Maybe it was the residual autumn fae in him, but he was attracted to the depth of his warmth, inside and out. Then a wide hand skimmed over the front of his shirt, down further still. Lower and lower, until he reached the top of his black jeans, that he finally managed to finish his ask. "What are you doing?"

Marc's dark chuckle brushed against the shell of his ear. "Like you, I'm eager for evidence, Declan." Teeth nipped and tugged on his earlobe, on the steel hoop in his ear. Lust shot through him, his body responding to the wicked little nip in the dark. Declan gasped, tipping his head back in a groan as that wandering touch cupped him through the denim, finding his hard length. "There it is."

"Fuck," Declan hissed, unable to hide, unable to feel anything. Unable to think about his goal for the evening. Not when the heel of that palm was rubbing him in rough circles. Not when his hips were pushing against that hand, desperate for more sensation.

"You like that?" Marc crooned.

Declan groaned, his erection uncomfortable in the confines of the denim, the delicate skin digging into the metal zipper. 

When his hand reached back to pull Marc to him, he knew what he would find. With his clothes long removed before he shifted, only beautiful bare skin and corded, hard muscles remained. Aside from his shifter genes, his physique was delineated by years of regimented workouts and healthy eating. Marc was thorough, practiced and put together in all things. But if his sexy, put-together, tech executive wanted to cut loose tonight. If he wanted to let loose with Declan, then so be it. 

"Dec," Marc hissed as the redheaded male ground back against him to the tempo of the hand working his front, the shifter's hardness already a taunt against his ass. 

"What?" he asked teasingly. "You want me to let loose and have a good time tonight, right?"

"Yeah," Marc said, his words ending with a grunt as Declan bumped him backward.

Despite not being able to see Marc, Dec turned around to face him. "Then let's let loose. Get on your knees, babe."

Over the howl of the wind outside, he heard the shifter's knees hitting the wooden floor before him.

Declan whipped off his gray t-shirt, tossing it away to some corner. His hands went to the button of his jeans, popping it open. Then he towed the zipper down, taking his time, the sound of it somehow more arousing in the absence of light, of sight. As he worked his jeans down his thighs, he grabbed hold of his cock.

"Godsdamn," Marc growled.

With the satisfaction that he could bring the mighty leopard shifter to heel, Declan gave himself a pump. Then another, slow and firm, his head falling back and eyes shut with the wringing pleasure. "You and your damn shifter eyes. You can see me, can't you?"

"Fuck yeah. And I love what I'm seeing."

Wrist twisting on the upstroke, his thumb smeared the bead of liquid gathering over the tip. And he swore the enormous leopard shifter whined at that. Good.

Still stroking himself, Declan followed the alluring scent of sandalwood and rain and heady arousal until he could sense the body heat radiating off the other male. 

He cursed as his head dropped back, his grip tightened, and the pumping became rougher and faster. "Open."

Heat puffed over throbbing skin, a tempting combination of hot and wet. Marc's tongue slid back and forth as Dec tapped his stiff cock against it. From the base to the tip, that talented tongue laved unprovoked, tormenting and flicking every sensitive inch. 

With his mind almost blown with need, he couldn't stop the demand welling up from his lips. "Oh fuck, Marc"—his breath caught—"suck me."

And holy Hel, he did. No hesitation, only a satisfying growl before Marc's mouth closed around him and sucked him down, his hand peeling Dec's away so he could take control. That hand wrapped around his cock while the other clamped onto the fae male's hip, those fingers biting into the flesh of his ass— 

Grasping Marc's head, Declan thrust his hips forward.

He wished he could see it. See himself disappear in that sensual mouth, sinking in as topaz eyes blazed into his own. But, burning Solas, the blind feel of him in the darkness… The way Marc's cheeks hollowed out and his tongue swirled around, coating him in the warm sensation of his mouth, his lover's enthusiasm dripping down his length to his sac. His own rapid panting blended with the enthused sloppiness and pleasured hum of the supplicant, sexy male before him.

A wandering finger slipped in between the crevice of his ass, circling the tight hole there. Circling endlessly. An opening, tantalizing tease. Until that thick finger finally pressed in.

Unable to stop himself, Declan bucked forward, forcing himself down Marc's throat until the shifter's nose met his pelvis. "Fuck!"'

Marc merely chuckled darkly, sinking his finger deeper and deeper. Declan wasn't even sure how either of them could breathe. They were frantic, muscles straining and flexing, racing to the edge. With each passing moment, Dec's brow beaded with sweat.

He moaned, scraping his fingernails across Marc's scalp. His hand tightened on the back of that head in plea and warning. His shifter male only loosed a muffled groan, still sucking and fingering him.

Climax came on as suddenly as an autumn storm. Shaking from head to toe, his damn knees nearly gave out as his release spilled over and over. And Marc took it all. Didn't let up, still working him as the last blissful tremors of orgasm ebbed. In a lazy glide, his boyfriend's mouth drew off of him and that digit slipped out, making him shiver.

"Gods…" Declan swallowed hard, trying to regain balance. Marc pressed a sweet kiss to the scar across his stomach. "Babe, that was—" 

His words cut off with a rough, demanding kiss. The taste of himself on Marc's tongue went directly to his head, still dizzy with pleasure and desire. They both groaned as the shifter's hard, demanding length pressed against Dec's stomach, spurring his own back to attention. 

Marc always did that to him. No matter what, with him, he always seemed ready to go. 

"Luna fucking save me," Marc said with a groan, grabbing onto his partner's ass to bring him closer, as they writhed against each other. That finger teased Dec again from behind with just enough pressure to drive him wild. "I want to fuck you so bad. You have no idea how bad. If only—"

"I brought lube."

With an erotic chuckle, Marc slowed the roll of his hips and asked, "What?"

"I-fuck. I brought lube."

Marc snorted. "Why am I not surprised?"

Declan reached down, gripping Marc's thick cock at the base, taking satisfaction at the hitch in the larger male's breath. "Always prepared, seldom disappointed." 

"I would expect nothing less from a former Otter Scout. Bet you know how to tie all sorts of knots, too."

His hum practically a purr, Declan answered with, "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh, make no mistake, I do. But not this time. Right now, I need to fuck you and in order to do that, I need that lube. So where are you packing such a thing?"

"In my bag. I actually brought it to loosen the stuck screws holding up the cameras. It was all I could find in a pinch." A pinch was an understatement. All of his mechanical lubricants had mysteriously disappeared. Declan didn't want to know the why or the what. "So I just took the first thing I thought of."

"In the duffel you brought with you?" Declan nodded vigorously, his mind solely on the drag. He pushed his hips forward, the friction alone of their dicks against one another nearly enough to make him cum again. But before he could, Marc was gone.

There was a brief rustling sound over to the left and then—

Kissing him senseless, breathless, pants still tangled around his thighs, Dec was marched backward, stumbling until his back met something. That something unyielding and rounded against his spine. They kissed and kissed and it only stopped when a deep, rasping voice demanded as he tugged on the open flap of denim, "Off."

He didn't have to be told twice, already shoving them off, removing everything in a blur. Stripping until it was just the two of them, skin to skin, clothed only in darkness. 

In a blink, Declan was spun around, his hands finding and clasping around the carved wood pillar now at his front. A bedpost, he realized absently.

"God, have I told you how much I love your back, Dec? These shoulders." Whack! Dec jumped as a splayed palm came down on his rear, then rubbed out the slight hurt. "This perfect ass of yours. It's the prettiest sight."

"Well, at least you can see me. I feel like it's unfair that I can't see—" Declan's scoff turned into a moan as something chilled slid between the seam of his ass.

Pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive spot below Declan's ear, his boyfriend's whisper a silken persuasion. "It's just the two of us here, alone and together. Embrace it, Dec. I'll always lead you out of the darkness if you let me."

And Declan knew at that moment Marc always would.

The wet slide of a tongue down the column of his neck had Declan's hips bucking backward, feeling that massive cock slipping against him. 

Marc's cool, coated fingers found their way, pressing, pushing into him, working him just enough. One… Then two… Fuck, three fingers. Even after all this time, after all their bouts together, the leopard shifter still took good care. Something he was eternally grateful for. 

Declan was no slouch of a male. As a member of the Aux, he took good care of his body. But the leopard shifter still dwarfed him, made him feel small. Marc was flawless. Chiseled dark-skinned perfection with broad shoulders, perfect for holding onto. And while Dec had seen a variety of fine dicks in his day. Had experienced his fair share—nothing and no one compared to Marc Rosarin.

No one ever would.

Not to mention, none of the males before had a pierced cock, either. Not even the draki he'd had an intense, albeit brief, fling with. 

Who would have thought that out of all of them, the one pierced there was the put-together tech entrepreneur? And, Solas, what that little barbell of steel through the tip could do… 

As fingers slid out, he heard that telltale click and squirt, followed by a hoarse groan in the darkness. Though he couldn't see it, the fae male could picture it clearly. How Marc's forehead furrowed as he stroked the thick liquid over his shaft. The dark, rigid length of him glistening and ready, already weeping with need.

A soft kiss on his shoulder and a settling grip on one hip helped tip the redhead's head back as another jarring drip of cold fell on his skin.

Declan gripped the post, his knees widening as he braced himself. His brows drew together as that broad blunt head started to push in. Slowly easing, gliding in inch by delicious inch. Each gain intensified the pressure, the burning stretch that tensed them both.

After another slow thrust, Dec's body had time to adjust as Marc stilled. All the while, the broad, calloused palm spanning his flank caressed and soothed as if the solid wall of male behind him was the one with the true healing power. 

"Fuck, you're still so tight. Have I told you how amazing you feel, Dec? Like you were made for me." 

Declan shivered at the gruff possessiveness in his voice. Shaking. He was shaking. Was going to jump out of his skin. Godsdamn. There was more power in everything without sight. Everything was more sensitive. Words. Touch. Already too good. Already too full.

Still, he was greedy tonight. For Marc to be with him. To take everything, to have everything. To swap his earlier fear with this pleasure only this male could give him. 

"Marc, it's okay if you don't—" A grunt and groan followed. "Don't be gentle tonight."

Knuckles tilted Declan's chin upward. Marc's words were full of gravel when he asked, "You sure?"

While Declan could not see Marc beyond a hazy silhouette, he knew Marc could clearly read his intentions. "Yes."

"You got it, tiger." 

Gripping him by the hips, Marc's mouth slammed on Dec's at the same time his pelvis surged forward, driving all the way in on a single thrust. Holy fucking Hel, Declan had to force himself not to scream, not to lose it all right there.

Ragged breath puffed against his mouth, both of them trembling as Marc held himself still again, both of them trembling and throats bobbing.

And then Marc was moving, pulling out before plunging back in. Each time, Declan could feel the drag of chilled metal, stroking deep to hit that spot that made him see stars. 

He rocked back into it, bracing and trying to keep up with the rhythm as every sliding thrust shoved him farther into the solid wooden post, jostling the entire bedframe.

So full…. So deep… So deep inside him…

Declan's desperate whimper had Marc fucking him even deeper, hitting that spot over and over. 

Something in the pathetic sound must have begged for more, because a brawny arm came around his torso, bearing his back, his weight, to the shifter's sweaty, muscled front as he continued to pound him into oblivion. Every hammering thrust bounced his erection against his abs. Had Marc's balls slapping off his ass. 

Everything was wild and frenzied. Primal. So much that Declan could almost imagine what Marc's sharp claws would feel like gently scraping across his skin. Wanted that lick of pain. Wanted to bruise.

He was climbing higher and higher, his spine tingling with the need to come. Marc reached around, cupping his balls with a squeeze, before he fisted Declan's cock, gripping him tightly.

"Shit!… Marc!" Dec panted through gritted teeth.

"Are you close? Can you do it, tiger? Can you come for me again?"

Declan's response was little more than a yelp as those hips slammed into him.

With that slippery hand jerking his dick, that swollen cock fucking his ass, Declan couldn't hold back. 

Too much. It was too good.

Everything went taut and dark, then bright like starlight behind the eyelids Dec didn't even realize he'd closed. He cried out as he came all over Marc's hand, smearing between fingers and over skin as Marc didn't let up.

It went on and on. Those powerful hips behind kept their pace, going and going until—

"Fuck!" Marc shouted, burying himself to the hilt, each pulse kicking deep inside, over and over. With one last shudder, finally spent, the shifter's head fell forward until his forehead rested on Declan's mussed red waves. 

The hand on Declan's front shifted until it spread over the center—over his heart.

And then everything went still as the wind whistled outside around the house, rattling the shutters. They didn't move, simply held each other in the dark, relishing in the silence, soaking in their love for one another.

"You okay?" Marc asked, pressing a tender kiss into his hair that shot straight to Dec's heart.

"More than okay."

Slowly, gently, carefully, Marc slid out, caressing along Declan's spine as he did so. "That was…"

"Yeah…" Declan said. 

"I'm sorry."

Still wrapped in his arms, he turned around to face him. Declan wound his arms around Marc's neck. "For what? The best sex of my life?"

"Best sex so far," Marc countered, sighing before he continued. "I'm sorry I disappeared earlier. Made you think I didn't care about you. Truth is, I was in the kitchen to grab us some beers—I was on my way back to you when I got sucked into a conversation. You know how that crew can be. But you have to know the only reason I came to this party tonight was to spend time with you, Dec. I've missed you."

Softly and sweetly, he kissed him. "I've missed you too, babe. Now, can you find my bag? And my clothes? I still can't see shit."

After pressing his lips to Dec's forehead, Marc laughed, untangling himself from the fae male's arms. "Sure thing, tiger. Only if you promise to grab my clothes from the other room."

Declan snorted, wishing he could watch Marc walk away. Because, damn. "Didn't think that whole shifting leopard prank through, did you?"

"No, I did not. Here," he said, handing Dec his bag. He set it down, squatting to feel for supplies. "When we get back downstairs, I'll grab those beers I promised and we'll park it in front of those monitors. Maybe make out a little. What do you say?"

Declan couldn't hide the smile in his voice as he said, "Sounds great."

"Good. But first I need to clean up."

Declan was already taking out wipes, water, and hand sanitizer. Things he had brought with greasy hands and malfunctioning equipment in mind originally, but... "Always the Otter Scout," he quipped, blindly tossing his boyfriend the towel.

Marc laughed huskily. "Indeed, and I'm so very—ah, Hel."

"What?"

"I forgot you readjusted it before we…" He cleared his throat. "I don't know how to say this, Dec, but the camera was pointed at us the entire time."

His amber eyes snapping up, his face heated with the realization. "Oh fuck me."

"Already did, but if you want to go again, I'm more than happy to."

Merciful Cthona. Leave it to Declan Emmet, tech genius, to accidentally record a nightvision sex tape after making comments about no one else being able to keep it in their pants.

Tag list: @hlizr50 @daevastanner @damedechance @headcanonheadcase @vikingmagic33 @ofduskanddreams