by Riley Rivers
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Ryan snarled. But it came out slurred as his vision started to swim, his body getting heavier. It was an effort to coordinate his limbs to keep struggling. “Let me go!”
The guy didn’t respond in favor of sucking on the tender skin of Ryan’s throat and Ryan hated the whimper that burst out of him. His body was responding, eager for a meal, and maybe if he hadn’t spent so long denying himself it would be easier to hold onto his control. But for all that he wanted anything but this, he felt himself start to go lax in the guy’s arms.
“See? Knew you wanted it.” The body pressed so close moved back, but Ryan didn’t even have time for a relieved breath before an arm was slung across his shoulders, pulling him in again. The guy started to walk and Ryan could only stumble along with him, unable to focus and without the strength or coordination to pull away.
It was once they were outside that Ryan truly started to panic. This was really happening. He was really– “Stop,” he tried again around a too-thick tongue. “M’not going with you.”
They kept moving forward. Toward a parked car, Ryan realized.
If there was one thing Ryan knew, it was that he couldn’t leave the area. He couldn’t let this guy take him somewhere else. So he needed to keep him here and distracted. And maybe—maybe someone out walking would notice or Chris would come to find him eventually. Chris was his ride. If nothing else he’d try to track Ryan down to leave.
So Ryan needed to keep this guy occupied while he could barely stand up straight, whatever drug he’d been slipped coursing through him.
But even if the thought of it all made him feel sick… a distraction was easy enough.
He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated hard, tried to push past the dizziness, and, for the first time in years, let his aura out and free, making it wrap thoroughly around his target.
The hold on him went lax for a brief moment as the guy shuddered, and then he was pressing Ryan up against the car, one hand sliding up underneath Ryan’s shirt as the other reached around to squeeze his ass. All he could do was slump in his attacker’s arms and let himself get felt up, furious at how easily he’d be able to fight free if he had control of himself.
But if it had to happen, this was better. Better to let his attacker have him here than take him who knows where.
At least, he thought dully as the guy let out a groan and rolled his hips against Ryan’s body, his hardness evident, he might get a meal out of all this. He’d be stupid not to take it, even if the thought of feeding off this guy’s arousal made him want to gag.
He zoned in and out of awareness as fingers scrabbled at his clothes, but jolted at a crackle of energy that made his spine itch.
“Let him go.”
Chris’s voice, almost a snarl, and Ryan managed to lift his head, blearily making out Chris hurrying forward, fire in his eyes and practically glowing, tattoos overly bright.
“Fuck off,” the guy spat. “You got to have him for a week. Give someone else a turn.”
What? Ryan thought muzzily.
Chris didn’t reply. Instead he grabbed the guy by the shoulder and ripped him away from Ryan. Without support, Ryan’s knees buckled and he slid to the ground. It was only out of the corner of his swimming vision that he caught Chris punching his attacker across the face. The crack was audible, the guy slumping forward in Chris’s grip.
Ryan couldn’t make out exactly what it was Chris did next. Only that Chris’s tattoos glowed a little brighter, the other guy staggering as he, too, seemed to light up. Then Chris was crouching down in front of Ryan, expression writ with concern.
“Hey,” he said quietly, voice containing not a single trace of anger. “Can I touch you? Help you up?”
Ryan managed a nod, whimpering a little when Chris gathered him up in his arms after it was clear Ryan couldn’t stand even with support. He felt even worse now. Pushing out his aura without any reciprocation had drained most of the precious little energy he’d had in reserve.
“I’m sorry,” Chris said, misunderstanding the sound. “I know, I’m sorry. But I’ve got to get you help.”
Ryan nodded again, burying his face in Chris’s shoulder as they started to move, Chris carrying him like he weighed nothing. Help. Sure, okay.
Chapter Eight
Chris had to fight to get his breathing under control as he carefully carried Ryan the few blocks down to where he’d parked. Fucking shitbag rapist bastard. Chris should have punched him harder. Should have done more than leave him clutching his nose.
Well. Chris hoped the fucker enjoyed only being able to tell the truth for the next month. Hopefully that would get him in all kinds of trouble, starting with him having to answer the question of “what did you do last night?”
If he’d had more time, he would have cast a much more devastating curse. But for now Chris had Ryan, infinitely precious in his arms, and hurting.
He buckled Ryan in as gently as he could, biting his lip with worry as Ryan lolled his head up to look at him before his eyes slid shut. He was drifting in and out of consciousness, his aura a miserable, fading thing that kept flaring out before dissolving.
His first thought was to take Ryan to the hospital. Get him proper medical attention to deal with whatever had been slipped into his system. But as he slid into the driver’s seat he realized that was probably not the best idea. He didn’t know enough about how Ryan’s magic worked or showed itself, and Ryan wasn’t up for hiding it. With Ryan as weak as he was, his system had to be going haywire. A hospital might try to keep him in-patient, and if Ryan wasn’t able to feed properly he wouldn’t get better.
Chris’s shoulders tightened as he made his decision and started the drive back to his own place. Luckily it wasn’t far, and soon enough he was parking at his house, easing Ryan out of the car.
He shifted his grip on Ryan to fit his keys into the lock, kicking the door behind him before heading up the stairs. He had a guest bedroom on the first floor of his bungalow, but the master bedroom on the second floor had an attached bath, which would probably come in handy. “Almost there,” he murmured to Ryan as he made another pained-sounding noise, curling further into Chris’s chest. “It’s okay, almost there.”
“You’re home ear—oh.” Clementine flew down to land on the banister as Chris climbed. “Who’s that? He doesn’t look good. What happened?”
“This is Ryan,” Chris grunted. “Someone drugged him. Can’t take him to the hospital so I’m going to treat him here.”
Clementine followed as Chris reached his bed and pulled the covers back before laying Ryan down.
Ryan cried out as Chris tried to pull away, clinging to him. “D-don’t leave.” The words were a broken plea, and sounded like it had taken effort to say them. “Please don’t leave me.”
Chris stroked a hand down the side of Ryan’s face. “I’m just going to grab to stuff to take care of you, okay? I’ll be right back. Clementine’ll watch over you, okay? I’ll be right back.”
Ryan sank back down to the bed, eyes unfocused, as Clementine flew to perch on the tableside lamp. Chris took a breath and then jogged back down the stairs to his workshop.
He grabbed up the kit he took with him when he traveled, his capsule-maker, and riffled through his various vials and ingredients to grab his unadulterated charcoal, swung by his kitchen to grab a cup and straw, then hightailed it back upstairs.
Ryan had curled up onto his side when Chris got back to his bedroom. He set all his things down on the side table before going to his bathroom to fill the cup with water and grab the basin he kept under his sink. Once back in his bedroom, he set the basin on the bed, then got to work making the capsule. Three drops of berry ink infused with magic to help locate the poison, charcoal to act as the binder once it was found.
“Ryan?” Ryan blinked blearily at him. Chris held up the pill he’d made. “I need you to swallow this for me. Can you do that?”
“What’sit?”
“Something to help get the drug out of your system. Can you trust me?”
Ryan nodded and allowed Chris to help him sit up before obediently opening up his mouth.
Once the pill was down, Chris kept Ryan sitting up and leaning against his chest. Contact would make this next part easier. “This isn’t going to feel too great,” Chris murmured apologetically. “But it’ll help.”
“Trust you,” Ryan mumbled.
God.
Chris splayed a hand over Ryan’s stomach and touched the other to his right forearm and the tattoo he had there of a snake coiled around a staff. Healing. He focused on his own ink and the ink Ryan had swallowed, tracing it down, searching for the poison that didn’t belong.
There!
Next was to coax the capsule into opening, using the charcoal to bind to the drug, ready to pull it out of Ryan’s system.
Ryan jerked in his arms and Chris grabbed the basin, holding it out to Ryan. “Here,” he said, not unkindly. “Get it out.”
Ryan grabbed for the basin, shuddering, and vomited while Chris held him up and rubbed his back. Eventually he stopped, chest heaving, and collapsed heavily back against Chris. Chris held up the glass of water again and Ryan sucked on the straw eagerly, rinsing out his mouth and spitting that in the basin before draining the glass.
Chris eased Ryan back down onto the bed and took the basin into the bathroom to empty and clean it. He’d keep it by the bed just in case, though it looked as if Ryan had purged all of the drug from his system. Now it was just a matter of recovery.
He hunted through his cabinet to find a toothbrush, still in its plastic packaging, for Ryan to use tomorrow and left that out on the counter. Then it was back to the bedroom. The basin went onto the floor and Chris went to sit on the side of the bed, looking down at Ryan.
“I still want an explanation,” Clementine said, cocking her head.
Chris sighed and brushed Ryan’s bangs out of his face, trying to tamp down on the warmth that curled through him when Ryan chased his hand. “There’s not much to say. I went out with him like I said I was gonna. Someone decided they didn’t want to take no for an answer.” He cursed himself for letting Ryan be alone for that. He just hadn’t wanted to be overbearing. Ryan had to know what he was doing, after all. But then that fucking bastard…
He fought down a growl at the memory of some stranger’s hands pawing at Ryan’s prone body like he had the right. And then what he’d said, “You got to have him for a week. Give someone else a turn.” Like he’d known about them hanging out together.
What the fuck?
Not that it mattered right now. Taking care of Ryan was what was important.
***
Ryan woke up to a pounding headache, a cramping stomach, and an awful taste in his mouth. He pushed himself up to sitting, squeezing his eyes shut at an onslaught of dizziness. When he opened his eyes, it was to an unfamiliar bedroom and memories of last night, a stranger’s unwanted touch–
He tried not to panic. He was still dressed, even though he was missing his shoes. His keys were still in the pocket of his jeans. And the aches he felt were his usual ones. Nothing in new places.
Still. Best to find his shoes and get home.
It was a struggle to get out of bed. Not only was he having difficulty with his limbs, but the bed was warm and smelled comforting.
Now that he was thinking about comfort, he could almost remember something else about yesterday. A hand rubbing his back, a gentle voice, a–
And then in walked Chris, from a door Ryan hadn’t noticed, a cloud of steam in his wake. “Ryan! You’re awake!” Chris hurried forward. “How are you feeling?”
Ryan couldn’t help but stare. Chris was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, but that’s all he was wearing, showing off a beautifully muscled chest and colorful tattoos painting his entire torso. As Ryan’s gaze trailed upward, he took in Chris’s wet hair, drops of water dripping down his neck and chest. Fresh from a shower probably. He licked his lips and fought down a shiver, hands clenching in the comforter as his body loudly protested the denial of such a delicious meal so close by.
“Ryan? Hey, can you look at me?”
Ryan flushed and snapped his head up to meet Chris’s eyes. “Sorry,” he croaked. He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “What time is it?”
“Almost ten,” Chris said. “You’ve been in and out of it all night. I’m glad to see you more lucid.”
Almost ten? “But your studio—it’s Saturday! Doesn’t it–”
Chris shrugged easily. “Eddie’s working but I took the day.”
Guilt clawed at Ryan’s throat. Chris had taken the day off work? “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to. All I had to do was reschedule a few appointments.” Chris’s expression was soft. “It was more important to me to make sure you were okay.”
Ryan swallowed and picked at the bedspread. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now here, do you want to wash up? The bathroom’s right over this way. And I could give you something to change into.” Chris grinned. “Might be a little big on you, but…”
As bad as Ryan felt, he didn’t think he had it in him to turn down the chance to wear Chris’s clothes. “That would be nice,” he mumbled. “Thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll grab something for you. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”
“That’s okay,” Ryan said quickly. “I can do it.” It probably wasn’t a good idea to touch Chris right now. Ryan had vague memories of clinging to Chris, begging him not to leave, and he didn’t need a repeat performance of that no matter how awful he felt. But even as he said it, the rushing in his ears got louder. He nearly fell right back down again after standing up. One reason he didn’t was because Chris had moved to catch his arm and support his back.
“Sorry!” Ryan pulled away and took a stumbling step forward before he froze, locking his knees and willing himself not to collapse.
“It’s okay,” Chris said quietly. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to. But I would like to help, if you’ll let me.”
Ryan did his best to regulate his breathing and try to get back some semblance of control, fighting down the need welling up in him. Focus. He settled on the other wants he had: to wash up, brush his teeth, change into clean clothes. Focus. “Some help to the bathroom would be good,” he managed after a minute.
Chris left him to his own devices in the bathroom after giving him clothes and a new toothbrush to use, and Ryan took the moment to brace himself over the sink and breathe. Focus. He used the bathroom and washed his hands, his face, finally brushed his teeth. Feeling cleaner helped a little, as did the cold glass of water he drank down.
Not up for balancing, he had to sit down in order to wrestle his jeans all the way off, but it was worth it to slide on the pair of pants Chris had lent him. Black sweats with cuffed ankles, they didn’t pool around his feet in an effort to trip him up, though he did need to cinch in the drawstring waistband. The shirt he slipped over his head was soft and well-worn and at least two sizes too big on him. He wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
Standing there in Chris’s bathroom, wearing Chris’s clothes, it was all too easy to imagine what it would be like if they were actually in a relationship. If kind, handsome, strong Chris wanted Ryan as more than a friend and as more than a good-Samaritan favor.
He closed his eyes and fought down a whimper. While he would never ask, Ryan wouldn’t turn down another offer if Chris was willing. He’d never felt this bad before. Probably it was because he was coming down off being drugged, not to mention he’d used what little power he’d had last night.
When he finally managed to open the door, Chris looked up at him from where he was waiting sitting on the bed and immediately stood, coming closer. “Hey. How are you feeling?” His gaze trailed over Ryan’s body. Probably taking in how gaunt he looked.
“Feeling okay,” Ryan forced out.
Chris frowned
, opened his mouth, and closed it again. Eventually he said, “Do you think you could eat something?”
Ryan didn’t laugh, but it was a near thing. “I won’t get much out of whatever you’ve got in the fridge.”
“I know,” Chris said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant… but obviously if you’re not feeling up to it—although it might help you make you feel better… whatever you think would be best for you.”
Ryan stared at him, trying to process what it sounded like Chris was offering. “You want to feed me?” Again? Wishful thinking was one thing, but to have Chris actually—
“Of course, if it’ll help you.”
Of course. Like it was second-nature for Chris to offer. And now that he had gotten to know Chris, Ryan knew it was second-nature. Chris was just the type to do good. Even if it meant offering sex—something people usually reserved for those they wanted intimacy with, or at the very least were actually attracted to.
Chris couldn’t know how much Ryan really wanted him. And Ryan wasn’t about to let his feelings slip and ruin the best friendship he’d ever had. But friends with benefits he could maybe do. Especially when Ryan was desperate and the benefits kept him from collapsing where he stood.
He was also dying to taste Chris again. Get him off and get to see it, hear him moan and know that Ryan had been the one to coax those sounds out of Chris’s mouth. It would be fine, right? Chris was offering. Ryan hadn’t even asked.
“Okay,” Ryan said. His voice was loud in his own ears. “Yeah, okay. That… that would be good.”
“Okay,” Chris said, breathing out.
Right. First things first: close the distance. Chris wasn’t aroused yet, but the edges of it were simmering, almost as if he wanted it. But that made sense too. Most people looked forward to sex. Ryan just had to make things good.
He took an eager step forward and nearly fell, Chris catching him against his chest. “Whoa,” Chris said softly. “Come on, let’s be careful, okay?”
Ryan nodded, face rubbing against the softness of Chris’s shirt. Careful. He could do that. He was eager to get Chris in his mouth and feel him fully harden, but he’d do whatever Chris wanted.
