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The two of you come together like a tsunami and a fishing village.
You’ve been hanging out for a while, pushed together by boredom and circumstance and ever since you’ve been orbiting each other like comets. Tension is high, something has to give soon and you both know it and since you both have a stubborn streak to rival a metaphorical ox you have been getting increasingly irritable as you build up to the inevitable collision. He grunts in lieu of a hello as you walk into his apartment and makes himself busy on the other side of the room. You’re furious, and you’re bored and you want something that he isn’t fucking giving you so you march across the room and push yourself firmly into his space.
“Dirk,” you say, the frustration grinds your teeth, you’re dripping with it. “Have I done something wrong?” The muscle in his jaw tenses like he’s thinking about pulling an entire facial expression and you scoff. “Yes? Can you please tell me what the fuck I did because I’m clueless here and you’re starting to piss me off.”
He turns to you, opens his mouth, shuts it. His hands are busy with something - his phone - but you ignore it and raise an eyebrow.
“You haven’t done anything.” He says, finally.
“Well then what the fuck is your problem!” You don’t mean to shout, it just happens. You thought the two of you got along well, and now you’re not and fine, okay, maybe, just maybe, you have a couple of issues with being cut off like this that have nothing to do with him. It’s bullshit and you just want to know what happened. You want to fix it but you can’t find the error and it’s driving you nuts. “What the fuck, Dirk!”
He hesitates, twitches around an aborted step back. His chin tilts up and you watch the lump in his throat bob as he swallows and your shoulders loosen, just a little. He twitches the screen on his phone up and takes a deep breath.
“I like you.”
“What? But-”
“No, no. Psii.” The flat is ominously quiet around you as he meets your eyes. “I like you.”
It’s so childish. Your mouth drops open around a breathless ‘oh’ and he starts saying something else but you don’t hear what it is because you’re already pressed against him with one hand on the side of his head and your lips mashed against his. You pull back and breathe in his space, your hand curling in the thin spikes at the back of his head. He whistles and licks his teeth.
“Oh.” He says.
Oh. Goddamnit. You headbutt him and kiss him again and this time he kisses back, his hands sliding up your hips until his thumbs sit in the dip of your ribcage, tugging you close. You taste blood on your fangs and he groans, his leg nudging between yours as he turns and pulls you back against the kitchen counter.
The curtains at the window flutter in a light breeze.
?
You’re sitting on the floor, well, no. You’re sitting on Dirk and Dirk is sitting on the floor, with his head tipped back to rest against the counter and his hands resting on your bare thighs. His eyes are closed and he’s got blood and slurry smeared down his chin, his lips shiny and freshly bruised. Neither of you managed to get properly undressed, but his shirt is gone and you smooth your palms up his bare chest until you find the bite shaped bruise on his shoulder. When you dig your thumb into the indents left by your fangs he hisses between his teeth and his dick twitches where it’s hanging out of his open pants.
Fucking gorgeous.
The air around you is close and stinks of sweat but the sweet chill from the open window cuts through it and sends a shiver up his arms that you chase with the tips of your fingers. You lean in and carefully kiss the split on his lip and he chases your mouth with the tip of his tongue. It takes him two tries to clear his throat and open his eyes to meet yours.
“You took that well.” He says, his throat still raw.
You laugh and twist his nipple before reaching up to touch your fingers to his lips. The corners of your mouth turn down. “Sorry.”
He worries it with his tongue and shrugs. “It’s fine.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.” You say, your claw tips rest where the blood has smudged into his stubble. Yellow and red mixed together, matches his eyes.
“It’s fine.” He repeats and wraps his rough fingers around your wrist to guide your hand back down to his chest. Whatever you were running on earlier has drained away and you buzz anxiously in his lap. “Bro.” He pats his hand against your cheek and you wrinkle your nose at him. “I’m serious. This is my serious face.” He pauses, studies your eyes and smooths a wrinkle out of your forehead with his thumb. “Are you okay with what we just did?”
You practically squawk in your hurry to answer- “Yes! Yes, fucking hell Dirk, you self absorbed prick, I’ve been crushing on your for perigees.”
He smiles and blood beads on his cut and it’s not okay but you’re going to be fine. You taste it when you kiss him again.
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You’ve slept together before but before it was two dudes passing out in the same space and now it’s… not. When you wake up his arm is draped over your hip and his chest hair is tickling the side of your nose but instead of shaking it off and rolling away like you usually would you just stay. He’s warm, and he smells like motor oil and oranges, and that weird heavy mammal smell that sticks to his fur, and when you breathe it in you feel like a fucking creep. He shifts, mumbles something incoherent and reaches up to adjust your horn away from his eyes and you don’t know if he’s awake or not but as soon as he wraps his hand around the keratin, you freeze and take a short breath.
“Dirk.” You warn, and he lets go. You tip your head back anyway and he grumbles.
“S’rry.”
“It’s fine.”
Actually, you’re not sure you’d be opposed to him getting his hands on your horns now. After your messy first collision in the kitchen you’d both agreed that you wouldn’t let this change things with a naive kind of determination but you know that’s bullshit really. You think, you hope, he knows too.
“It’s fine.” You repeat, softer, more distant. He slowly pushes his hand back up through your hair until his thumb touches the base of your horn and pushes it experimentally up the curve. A thick, encouraging purr rattles through your throat and you press your chest against his side. Everything is slow and hazy, the fan whirring by the window only just drowning out the noise of the city waking up. Soft earth sunlight filters through the blinds and catches the grey at Dirk’s temples.
“Mmn.” He cracks an eye open and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Mornin’.”
“Good morning, Dirk.” You sigh, tipping your head into his hand until he wraps it completely around one of your larger horns. Your pan goes cotton candy soft at the edges and the sleepy haze threatens to drag you back under but he loosens his grip and kisses the tip of your nose. His other hand wriggles up from under the covers to cup your throat and feel the vibrations from your purring. He pushes your chin up gently with the tip of his thumb and presses your lips together, sweet and chaste. You can feel his stubble on your top lip and smell the sharp tang of his morning breath creeping through but you kiss him back, careful of your fangs, as he rubs the side of his hand where your horn meets your skull.
He pulls away, first his lips and then his hands, until he has you curled loosely against him with just a few inches between you. He licks his lips and grunts as his alarm starts beeping at you both.
“You know I could break it from here.” You mumble.
He laughs and kisses you again.
?
It’s new years and you’re not as drunk as you really need to be to be having this conversation. Disciple has you cornered, literally. Your back is to the wall and the only way round her would be to perform some kind of acrobatic pirouette over the punch table and through the window to your left. In the dark glass you can see the look of panic in your reflection but she’s advancing on you with a tall flute of something sparkling in one hand and a predatory (purredatory?) look in her eye.
“Have you told him yet?” She says. It’s an accusation not a statement, she already knows the answer.
“Fuck off, Dis.” You answer, glancing over her shoulder. Signless is occupied talking to the human woman. Harley? English? One of those. You’re fucked. “There’s nothing to tell!”
“Bullshit!” She tweaks your grubscar through your shirt and you yelp. “You like him!”
“Yeah, he knows that!” You say. “I think my bulge up his ass was a pretty clear-- OW!”
The music is loud enough to cover your conversation, especially here in the corner of the room, but not quite loud enough to stop you from nervously looking around to see if the person you’re talking about is hovering nearby. You don’t see him but that doesn’t mean he’s not there. You lower your voice to a hiss and jab your claw into Disciple’s boob.
“Stop that! I’m not talking about it here so why don’t you just fuck off.”
“Nope!” She peels her lip back from her teeth and leans a little closer into your space until your ass hits the wall. “You need to-”
“We got a problem over here?” Dirk slings his arm around her shoulders and she scowls. She pinches the umbrella out of his drink and pokes him in the ribs with it.
“Not anymore.” She pouts.
He winks at her over his shades and snorts when she grabs a handful of his ass. Reluctantly and at his urging she takes a few steps back until you have room to breathe and Dirk has room to slip his free hand around your waist. You can’t help the smug little smile that creeps over your face, even as your ears turn yellow, and she bares her teeth at you one more time. Dirk clears his throat, loud enough to be heard over the music and she rolls her eyes, wriggling out from under his arm and flipping the both of you the bird before bouncing away to bother Signless. You leave it a few seconds for her to be out of earshot and looking the other way before tugging Dirk’s hips against yours and pressing your nose into his neck.
“You know she was flirting, don’t you.”
“What makes you think I wasn’t?” He says, and pushes you back into the wall, putting his hand over your shoulder like some shitty anime protagonist. You laugh and this time when he kisses you you don’t bother to be careful of your fangs. You scrape them across his closed mouth until you hear him hiss between his teeth and then trail your lips sideways to press a sweet, gentle kiss to his cheek.
You lean in to say something sarcastic, your breath ghosting over the shell of his ear when the party erupts, everyone is chanting and the two of you spin round just in time to catch the end of the countdown. Five! Four! Three! Two! He grabs your face and kisses you until you’re out of breath. The window lights up with fireworks and all around you is noise, noise, noise. Cars are honking, people are screaming, under it all someone is very calmly calling your name.
You shake your head and Dirk swims back into focus. He’s got a hand in your hair and the tiniest little crease between his brows above his shades.
“Yeah.” You say breathlessly, and pull him up by the shirt so you can kiss him again.
?? ?
You’re wearing his shirt because it’s the only clean thing in the apartment but you haven’t told him that yet because he’s industriously searching through the pile of crap at the end of your bed and from here you can see the perfect amount of plush ass poking out from the top of his sweatpants. You take a long slurp from your coffee as you letch on him, in a minute he’ll snap and you’ll have to admit what you know before then but you’ve got, ooo, at least another single smelly sock until that happens.
He flings a pair of boxers over his shoulder. “Fuck!”
“Everything’s in the laundry.” You say.
He looks up and gapes at you, his eyes are always a little shockingly expressive without his shades in the way. They narrow, do half a roll and then he straightens up and turns away from you. “Fuckin’ asshole, you knew this whole time.”
You can’t help smiling, just a little. He’s not really mad, he doesn’t talk when he’s mad. He disappears through the door, still muttering to himself, and then comes back wearing a shirt you’re fairly sure is Signless’. He grabs his jeans from where they’re thrown over your feet on the end of the bed and starts shimmying into them commando. It’s dark, but the dim, odd coloured lights throw his legs into sharp contrast. You watch shamelessly, your eyes tracing the curve of his ass and lingering on his bulge even after he’s zipped up.
“Hey. Spaceman.” He says and you snap your eyes up to his face. “Yeah, damn right, my eyes up here.”
You absently trace a claw around the rim of your mug and grin. “How long are you going to be out?” You ask.
“Couple of hours. Gotta pick up that deck off Zahhak on the other side of the fuckin’ county.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Ugh.”
“Yeah. Thought you were goin’ for lunch with the crew anyway.”
“Signless cancelled.” You shrug and put on a ridiculous simper. “I’m so bored and alone, Dirk, spare me.”
Unswayed, he leans across the bed and kisses you on the cheek. You catch his wrist and hold him down for a quick peck to the lips. “Do the laundry.” He says.
“Ugggggh.” He snorts as he pulls back and you follow, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “Okay,” you say, “fine. But bring back Starbucks.”
“Sure thing, babe.”
He kisses you once more before he leaves.
