Some Kind of Magic

by R. Cooper

  But of course he didn’t. Ray stared back at him, aware that his frustration was in his face for Cal to see. He swallowed, and Cal wet his mouth.

  He’d been eating jellybeans since they’d hit town. His lips were sugary pink, his tongue stained purple and green. His voice was strangely low, humming like his wings.

  “You know, normally I hate when people say my name. But when you say it, it’s like I can’t stop myself.”

  “Callalily.” Ray didn’t say more than that, didn’t nod or move, but then somehow he was sitting back as he got a lap full of fairy. He was stunned, burning, glitter settling on him like popping bubbles, the barest tickle. Then Cal’s legs were crushed on either side of him, on him because Ray took up the entire seat, and yet he couldn’t seem to feel any pain at all.

  He could take the weight off, hold Cal up easily without effort, and he did, putting his hands at Cal’s back only to slide them under his shirt, over it, letting the frantic rush of wings try to cool them.

  Ray turned his head, burying his face in the crook of Cal’s neck and shoulder and breathing in deep, perfect/sugar/color. Need/need/need. Cal. His Cal.

  He should stop but he didn’t want to, and Cal didn’t want him to either. His hands slid to the headrest, to Ray’s hair.

  “I knew it.” Triumphant and breathless and radiating desire, just as promised. “I knew you’d been smelling me.” Someone with a sense of self-preservation might have paused at that, thought about his desk and chair, why Cal would torture him like that deliberately, but Ray seemed to have misplaced his. Cal was in his lap. In his lungs. In his blood. Talking to push him further over the edge.

  “Tell me, Ray. What do I smell like to you? Tell me.”

  Ray tightened his hands but couldn’t answer. He shook his head, then slid his mouth along the pounding rush of Cal’s pulse, up to his mouth to kiss him. It was rough, hungry. Cal opened for him instantly, licking at him with greedy little noises, his hands pushing down between them with sudden urgency. Ray licked him back, his tongue, behind his teeth, lapping up his sweetness.

  When he couldn’t breathe, when the stars he saw weren’t just fairy sparkle, and his hands were bruising that skin, he tore his mouth away. Cal tossed his head, inhaled, and launched back into him with soft, quick, feverish caresses, fluttering and tantalizing. Ray had a thought, that he shouldn’t be rough, shouldn’t mark, because he wasn’t Cal’s mate, but each attempt to slow, to stop, got him shoved back into the seat, with knees pressing into his legs and Cal gripping his sides until Ray turned his head and opened his mouth and found shimmering, warm skin.

  He bit down, not hard, but holding, and Cal gasped, practically begging him to break the skin. His arousal was outlined by worn jeans, pressing into Ray, pounding with the same heat that was under his skin. “Ray. Ray. Please. Go ahead.”

  He couldn’t know what he was asking, Ray realized, and then nearly moaned at what he was giving up. But this had to stop. He took his hands and mouth away in one move, then twisted his head to look around Cal, not exactly seeing the view out the window but needing to calm himself.

  Cal didn’t push him this time, though he didn’t stop his hands from petting over him, stroking, not soothing, though he may have meant it that way. Or not. He slipped one hand down to Ray’s fly, down the zipper, along the length of his swollen cock.

  “Well, knick knack paddy whack.”

  “What?” Ray was possibly drunk. On what, he had no idea. Maybe that’s what it was like to kiss a fairy, though he didn’t think so. His head was swimming, his body heavy with charm and sparkle and Cal-scent. Cal-scent. He could have rolled in it. Cal’s fingers traced him through his pants, hot arousal, slowly down and then up. Ray didn’t fight it. “What?” he asked again.

  “Give a dog a bone.” Cal’s laugh seemed ridiculously happy. It made Ray look at him. Then out again. His brain momentarily cleared. Fuck.

  “We’re in the parking lot,” he realized out loud, the department parking lot. Anyone could have seen them. Could still see them. He shifted and shot Cal a glare that didn’t have its full force behind it, as Cal’s hand was still stroking his dick through his jeans. He became aware that his mouth was open, that he was panting. He possibly whined.

  “Cal.” Cal might have had no shame, but he took one look at Ray and sighed. With a pout, he shifted back. Ray winced, and Cal slid gracefully up to his feet, coincidentally putting his crotch in Ray’s face.

  His dick smelled familiar and delicious. Inviting. Ray reached out and then forced his hands back down. To his lap, which was now empty. His hard on was also very obvious. He looked out at any possible witnesses, cursing them and himself for caring when Cal didn’t, and tried to straighten his clothes. He wasn’t sure when Cal had undone his tie, or his shirt for that matter.

  He coughed. “We shouldn’t—”

  “Don’t you dare, Branigan.” Cal was suddenly in his face, fierce, pink in his cheeks, the scent of Ray at his mouth. Ray stared at him for a long moment, trying and failing to think of anything but hunger and loneliness, that long ago tang of unfulfilled need. He smelled it too, and the scent wasn’t only coming from him.

  He nodded, unbelievably tense, shaking and hoping once again Cal couldn’t see in the dark. “My place?”

  “The love cave?” Cal’s ferocity only shifted into something far more irresistible. “I’m there.”

  CAL refused to sit in the backseat for the drive but had enough sense not to touch Ray until the car was parked again. Not that it really mattered, not with his scent clinging to every inch of the car and to every inch of Ray.

  But he had barely even removed his seatbelt before Ray was out and around the car, opening the passenger door to pick him up and haul him up into his arms. They hit the side of the car, Cal letting out a little “oof!” of surprise before going with it, wrapping his legs around Ray and allowing Ray and the car to keep him up. His hands held tight to Ray’s suit, his head went back. This kiss wasn’t gentle, either.

  If Ray slowed down, he’d think, end this, and that was the last thing he wanted. He’d been breathing in Cal from a distance for over two years, and now his hands couldn’t let go of him.

  It was like they’d never stopped. Ray grunted, on fire to feel Cal opening his shirt, stroking his chest hair, to feel the shuddery moan that slipped from Cal when his ass was crushed against the car door. He rolled his hips in the next second, riding, pushing up as Ray ground down, just right, and his moan became words.

  “Do it, Ray. Please. I want it. Please, Ray.” And Ray had the vaguest thought that they were still outside, that allowances might be made for shameless fairies and even for werewolves desperate for their soulmate, but not for a cop, and sucked Cal’s pouty lower lip between his teeth to shut him up, to taste him. To bite and mark.

  Cal allowed it. Ray’s need for him was a painful, beautiful thing.

  He kissed him there to make up for the display of teeth, power, licking at hot, full, sweet lips and trying to slow, to at least make it inside. He grunted as they left the car, distantly amused at the flapping of Cal’s wings, as if that would propel them inside faster. He forgot his amusement when they slammed into his front door though, Cal wriggling for faster, now, hurry, and Ray’s keys still a tangle in his pocket.

  One of Cal’s hands left Ray long enough for a flare of light to extend over his keychain, and in a daze, Ray watched the right key seem to glow. He unlocked the door, stumbled inside, and—barely—got the door closed behind them before Cal was sliding to his feet and pulling him down for another kiss.

  “Please.” Ray was begging in the moments he could breathe, watching his coat and tie go flying, shivering as air and then Cal’s hands caressed his chest. His shirt disappeared. He felt surrounded by light. “Please, Cal, I don’t want to hurt you.” He wasn’t sure what he meant, too many things since Cal couldn’t possibly know what he was asking, but Cal actually laughed as he yanked at the waist of Ray’s pants.

  The
n his mouth was everywhere, at Ray’s shoulders, his arms, nipples, stomach. Cal came up again, streaming out words in Fairy, and then guttural near-growls, and suddenly Ray’s pants were at his ankles. Cal stretched on his toes, arms up, urging Ray to undress him too, then leaned back when Ray touched him, his body on display as Ray pulled his shirt from him, somehow careful of his wings.

  Something about that seemed to push Cal further. “Smell me, Ray. Am I scared?” He switched back to English, whispering with his face to Ray’s skin. He was tasting, savoring, as though Ray was made of orange zest and rosewater and had been rolled in confectioner’s sugar.

  “No.” Ray didn’t hesitate because happy/safe/want was ripe on Cal’s skin, along with a desire so strong it had to be an ache. So much need, he was shaking with it. His hands grabbed hard enough to bruise at the thought, and Cal gasped hoarsely.

  “I can’t wait, Ray. Not anymore.” Cal’s hand landed over his at the waistband of his jeans, getting in the way, trying to pull them open before Ray could, and Ray let out a snarl as he shoved Cal’s hand aside and pushed his jeans down. Bare skin underneath, no underwear, not for Cal, and Ray cupped his dick, petting, teasing, claiming.

  Cal made another sound, heady and sweet, and put his head against Ray’s chest, his mouth open. He was almost crying. “Now, Ray, do it.” The plea getting louder when Ray turned him, all urgency once his face was to the door and Ray was behind him.

  “Want/want/want.” Cal was saying it, repeating it, his wings spreading as Ray stepped in behind him. Ray ducked his head, inhaling, growling against Cal’s neck. Cal. Here. His cock was heavy and his skin hot, and it wasn’t enough.

  “Callalily.” It was animal, wolf, what he felt, pushing into him, sliding home, and he savored the shudder in Cal as he bit down. Power over him, she had hinted. Callalily, he thought it, wanted it. There was another flare of light, bursting at the edges of his vision so that Cal was all he saw, and then Cal was pushing back. He groaned, hurt, uncomfortable, or happy, Ray couldn’t tell, and when he tried to slow, pull his mouth away to ask, Cal banged his hands into the door and then splayed them wide.

  “Don’t you dare, Branigan,” he ordered once more, voice tight, only to go weak when Ray slid a hand around to stroke him. “More.” Cal was feverish but insistent, slick in Ray’s hand when Ray bit down again, and his teeth held Cal still, and Ray’s other hand pressed tightly into his hip. He couldn’t catch his breath, his sweat rich, like it was reaching out and demanding even more, harder, and his hands slammed into the wall again. His fingers curled.

  “This is it, isn’t it? What you—” He choked, shoving back into Ray, and he was everything his scent had ever promised. “Yes, Ray. Yes.”

  Ray was dizzy, hungry, salt and iron in his mouth, going blind with the light around them, and the sweet air, roses and wine and cupcakes and chocolates. It was like running, running home with the wind in his fur, and he was howling, growling, into Cal’s skin, and Cal was moaning and bright and finishing too, with a shivery, achy cry.

  It was new, being like this. And when the haze finally cleared, when the lights were normal—if they’d ever really been that bright—and he could suck down oxygen, and Cal started to lift his head, Ray ducked his, keeping Cal’s face turned away from him as he licked at the marks he’d made.

  Dark, red half-circles of teeth, and thin trails of blood that would heal before his eyes if he watched long enough. But he swept his tongue over that, too, breathing in as much as he was tasting, nosing at Cal’s hair. He wasn’t ready for speech yet, but he could be gentle.

  Cal’s hand flew back, landed on Ray’s hip, not quite pushing him away, not quite pulling him closer. Ray dropped his mouth to his back, above his wings, lapping at clean sweat.

  “Whoa.” Cal was loose and melting, suddenly shivering into him as though uncaring of how exposed he was, how very delicious he was to Ray.

  Ray opened his hands, smoothing them over Cal’s skin, his chest, hips, his stomach. It was sticky, warm. Smelled good. Ray followed that too, closing his eyes and bending down as Cal slid around and put his back to the door.

  Cal was breathing hard again, his fingers spinning, twisting in Ray’s hair as Ray lapped at the come splattered on his stomach. His come hinted of sugar, no surprise there. Ray puffed out a breath and then sucked at Cal’s navel, then lower, found his soft dick and made Cal whimper his name.

  It was really all he needed. He pulled his mouth free so he could slide to his knees, to the floor, and pull Cal with him. Cal was a full-grown man, and yet was almost no weight in Ray’s lap. His eyes were closed as Ray licked at his bite marks, his bruises, from the front this time, and he smelled incredible. Like Ray, all over, but still Cal.

  Ray was drunk. He fell back suddenly, heavy and aroused again and attempted to focus when Cal stretched languorously over him only to stop. He wriggled.

  “Holy… I thought that was a myth.”

  “What?” Ray ran his fingertips over Cal’s ass, feeling the skin hot from his grip earlier. Cal wriggled again, sliding up to plant that ass right where it felt the best. He leaned over Ray, sucking kisses onto his neck, sprinkling him with delicate glitter.

  “The ‘werewolves can go all night’ thing.” Actually, Cal wasn’t doing too badly in that department either.

  “Oh, that.” Ray licked his lips, opening his eyes wide as Cal moved. He couldn’t possibly be…. He was. He tossed Ray a smile that was positively wolfish as he licked his hand, stroked Ray’s stiff cock, and then arched up.

  “Oh, that,” he mocked gently as he slid down on it, and Ray groaned. The slow flutter of Cal’s wings as he rocked up and down was the only sound other than their breathing for a long time.

  RAY was staring shamelessly the next morning. It might be his last chance. That was what he told himself, though he had a feeling even if he saw this every morning he would still stare like this.

  Cal lay stretched out on his bed, where they’d finally ended up sometime last night. They’d even managed to sleep for a few minutes before waking again just before dawn, reaching out without thinking as though neither of them could be satisfied.

  Cal’s original wounds had healed over, but had been quickly replaced with a new set of round bite marks at his shoulder, his neck, his thighs. Finger-shaped bruises colored his inner thighs too, and his hips, and his stomach. Burn from Ray’s stubble was across his chest and at his neck. His skin glistened with sweat. His mouth was swollen and red, open, as he stared back up at Ray from where he’d propped himself up on a few pillows.

  He hadn’t moved, not in the time Ray had showered and gotten dressed for work. Not even to join him in the shower, though he’d seemed tempted. Not even to cover himself with a blanket, not that he seemed chilled.

  Ray frowned at the thought anyway, at the wrecked, lost expression in Cal’s eyes, the bruised heat of his nipples, and softly pulsing waves of want he could still detect. Cal was breathing hard as he watched Ray button his shirt, so exhausted that he wasn’t even sparkling.

  Ray frowned harder at that, and then made himself move to open the blinds and let the morning sunshine pour in. The yellow heat seemed to seek Cal out, and Cal immediately shut his eyes to bask in it, decadent and needy at the same time. Ray smiled a little, sadly, where Cal couldn’t see it, and headed to his kitchen. He didn’t care much for sugar normally, but he grabbed the sweetest thing he had in the house and a spoon before heading back. He kneeled on the bed as he offered the jar of honey to Cal.

  It wasn’t his best idea. Cal blinked back to awareness, beamed at him, and tore open the jar, only to begin slowly sucking honey into his mouth, one spoonful at a time.

  “And breakfast in bed….” He was speaking. Ray tried to pay attention to anything that wasn’t his warm smile or his sticky, golden-coated mouth. It didn’t really work. He leaned back down to pet over what he wished was his, kissing his way across that bruised chest, and Cal instantly turned toward him for more, breathing faster.
/>   “Callalily,” Ray exhaled. He couldn’t seem to stop saying it. “Callalily.” And each time, Cal murmured back at him, like a purr, “Yes, Ray?” As though Ray only had to ask.

  Ray slid his lips over yet another bruise, nipping at the flavor, complex and simple and delicious. Cal spilled honey, and Ray tasted that, too, sucking another mark before he realized what he was doing. He pulled away, flushed and breathing heavily.

  The marks would fade in a matter of hours. The thought made him bend back down to lick at the raised, sore flesh of the bite marks, craving Cal’s small whimpers and going bright inside when Cal laughed, his throat thick with honey.

  “Ray Ray. You hound. You animal. You demon. You—” He stopped so suddenly that Ray stopped too, pulling back to watch some realization wax and wane on Cal’s face. His glitter cloud returned with a burst of energy, and then Cal was moving, his listlessness gone as he bounced to his feet, barely pausing to set down the honey jar before he was walking away.

  Running, half-flying even with tiny wings, down the hall toward the front door and out it without another word. Without even grabbing his pants.

  Ray stayed where he was for a moment longer, then very carefully got back to his feet. “Fairies,” he said out loud, as though that would make it any easier.

  “Fucking fairies,” he said again, because there were only so many times he could take the sight of Cal walking out of his life, and then turned to finish getting dressed.

  HE SHOULD never have let himself hope for more than that. He’d known that, and he’d done it anyway, so it was his own fault. He’d never had a night like last night and wouldn’t again, probably, with his mate alive but not with him. But he should be thankful for that and making Cal so happy. So over the top, ridiculously happy, even for a fairy.

  Not moping and tired and refusing every offer Penn made to go buy him some steak. She was getting worried, and irritated, he could tell without smelling her, but he couldn’t help his mood. He could help catch a murderer however, and that was his plan.