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When Pangi starts dodging his questions about the dragon egg, Lukey’s heart sinks. He watches the way Pangi scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, fumbling to divert the conversation elsewhere.
And Lukey, well… he’s a weak man.
He sees how quickly Pangi’s demeanor shifts at the mention of the egg. How his contented smile fades into something more reserved, distant.
Guilt settles heavy in Lukey’s stomach, right beside his sunken heart. The evening had been going so well. The words they exchanged were pleasant and easy, fond giggles being shared between sips of wine.
And now, Lukey worries he’s tainted it. He worries that bringing up his previously hidden distrust towards Pangi about the dragon egg could have soured the entire night in Pangi’s eyes.
It was their first date, something he couldn’t bear to ruin. For himself or for Pangi.
He didn’t even want to mention it in the first place, but Aimsey had been at his throat for days, and he didn’t want to let them down again.
So when Pangi steps forward, a clear mission in his eyes to avoid the subject, Lukey sees a solution before him, clear as day. He can fix this. He can make Pangi forget, at least for now. He can overwrite the moment with something better. Something to compliment the earlier hours of the night.
He wants them both to be happy with the outcome of the night, instead of worrying about the conversation they end on.
Lukey leans in to meet him halfway. Their lips meet in a kiss, soft and devastatingly sweet. The second their lips touch, Lukey feels Pangi shift, already drawing back. Like he means to make the kiss a brief goodbye.
But Lukey can’t let him go. He won’t let Pangi leave like this, with the date ending on a bitter note.
Lukey may be a weak man. But Pangi is weaker.
He folds so easily when Lukey slides a hand up the back of his neck, brushing fingertips over the scale-littered skin, and threads his fingers into Pangi’s hair. He applies a soft amount of pressure, pushing Pangi towards him, just barely. Pangi makes a noise—half sigh, half annoyed groan—and melts into it, forfeiting his plans of escape to instead wrap his arms around Lukey’s neck.
God, Lukey loves how easy he is to unravel.
He gins against Pangi’s lips. Maybe the wine is making him bold.
Somewhere in the distance, he hears the unmistakable sound of a Keeper leaving, the temperature of the room dropping minutely for a moment, but it feels miles away.
Pangi doesn’t seem to mind either, opting instead to pull Lukey closer, their bodies pressing flush against each other.
Lukey doesn’t care much for traditional labels or societal expectations—but he cares for Pangi. If Pangi wants to date, to get married, then Lukey will. For him. In whatever way Pangi will have him.
He doesn’t need a definition. Just the chance to hold him like this. To kiss him. To cherish him.
When Lukey pulls away for breath, Pangi chases after him, before catching himself and feigning nonchalance.
Lukey would call him desperate to his face, but he thinks if he does right now, he might end up with a knee to the stomach and no more cute pangolin to kiss, so he keeps his mouth shut.
For now.
He’ll bully Pangi later, when he’s not pressed up against his body, their breaths mingling with the close proximity.
“You good?” he whispers instead, resting his forehead on Pangi’s.
“Very,” Pangi breathes.
Lukey leans back in, slotting their lips together once more and running his hands down from Pangi’s hair to the area of his back left exposed by the dress. Lukey scrapes his blunt nails across the open skin of Pangi’s back, just to hear his breath hitch against his mouth.
Pangi’s hands migrate from behind Lukey’s head to the front of his neck, his skilled fingers loosening and removing the orange tie around Lukey’s neck, giving Pangi free range to run his hands across Lukeys clothed chest as he pleases.
Pangi’s skin is incredibly warm, Lukey notes as he dips his hands lower, trailing to Pangi’s sides and resting on his waist.
Pangi’s breath shutters against his lips, and Lukey takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into Pangi’s mouth, who sighs contentedly.
Lukey’s hands drift further, over the sheer fabric draped over Pangi’s legs. And oh, his thighs. Firm and muscular. Hardened most likely by countless years of fighting, of escaping. Lukey lingers, appreciating the strength beneath his fingertips.
He digs his fingers in, just a bit, to feel the muscles tense under his palms.
Lukey considers pinning Pangi against the glass wall right here and now. The thought alone sends a stir low in his gut. But then he catches sight of the bed, tucked neatly on the other side of the room. Small, yes, but so inviting.
Pangi’s too precious for cold walls.
Perhaps next time, Lukey thinks. But tonight is the very first time he’s had Pangi’s lips on his own after yearning for so long. He wants to treasure it.
Plus, it would do them both some good to get off their feet.
Lukey pulls away once more, taking a moment to appreciate Pangi’s flushed face, blush dusting all the way up to his ears. He looks beautiful, and while Lukey may be good with words, he can’t think of anything that would truly describe how Pangi looks right now. He settles for an offhanded, “cute,” instead, which immediately makes Pangi’s blush spread further.
Pangi swats weakly at Lukey’s chest, mumbling something that sounds vaguely like a protest, but his fingers curl in Lukey’s dress shirt instead of pushing him away.
“Stop that,” Pangi mutters, voice rough and breathless.
“What, calling you cute?” Lukey tilts his head, feigning innocence. “But you are.”
Pangi groans and drops his forehead against Lukey’s shoulder, defeated. “You say it like it’s a compliment.”
Lukey grins. “It is.”
“I’m handsome and hot as fuck,” Pangi grumbles. “Not cute.”
Lukey hums non committedly. There’s something to unpack there, about Pangi’s hesitance surrounding more typically feminine terms, but that’s a conversation for another day. Currently, Lukey is more focused on figuring out the fastest way to get Pangi to the bed.
He settles for just asking.
“Bed? Please?” Lukey says, uncaring for the desperation that seeps through his tone. He flicks his gaze over to the side of the room.
Pangi nods quickly, peeling away from Lukey before grabbing his wrist and hurriedly pulling him in the direction of the bed.
After climbing up the small set of stairs, their hands are immediately on each other again as they tumble onto the bed in a mess of limbs.
Pangi lands on his back as Lukey tumbles on top of him, their faces centimeters apart.
Pangi gives a short kiss to Lukey’s lips before trying to flip them, but Lukey stands his ground.
“You bastard,” Pangi complains, but there’s a grin on his face.
Lukey runs his hands up the bare skin of Pangi’s legs, hiking his dress up around his waist. “You spend every day on this Realm taking care of me, making sure I’m okay,” Lukey responds, kissing the crook of his neck. “Let me take care of you for once. Relax, just for a moment.”
And Pangi relents, resting his hands on Lukey’s where they rub circles around his waist.
As Lukey tilts his head up for another kiss, he thinks his mission of salvaging the night was accomplished.