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The bar became more crowded, and a makeshift dance floor had appeared. Hardly a nightclub, but simply by moving some empty tables to the side it allowed people to move around to the music, which had increased in volume, if they wished.
Everyone was relaxed and content. The feel of it permeated the entire place, and it was infectious to be around.
I’m not one much for signs. Whether God leaves signs for humans or not, I couldn’t say for sure, but if He does, I can’t imagine He would do the same for demons. Technically, we shouldn’t even be on Earth, right?
So when that song started playing, it must have been only a coincidence.
Van Morrison’s “Into the Mystic.”
I couldn’t even tell you what it is about the song that affected me so much, but something about it—the tone, the lyrics, and the voice—reached into a part of me I wished I could capture forever.
“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked.
I’d been staring off into the distance. “Nothing, I just… love this song.”
“Want to dance?”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I don’t dance.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Take your pick.”
Jacob ignored my protests and stood, holding his hand out. He had that smile again of mischief, and holding back the urge to roll my eyes like a petulant child, I took his hand, engulfing it in mine and allowing him to lead me to the small area with a handful of other dancers. His body fit perfectly against mine, and I took one of his hands, letting my other drape around his waist as he touched my shoulder. We were back to staring at each other, turning in slow circles. My heart was thumping against the inside of my chest, and I’m certain Jacob would have been able to feel it under his fingers. Everything this music stirred in me was coming to the surface, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from the man I held in my arms.
I’d never felt less like a demon than I did in this moment, where it was only him and me.
As Van Morrison sang us out of a dance, we stopped, still holding each other, and I tightened my grip, not yet ready to let go of Jacob or this feeling.
“Do you want to come back to mine?” I asked.
“Yes,” Jacob whispered, his breath hitching as his fingers gripped my shoulder. “Fuck yes, I do.”
JACOB
There was no slow build, no hesitancy of standing at the threshold, arms at our sides awkwardly waiting for the other to make the first move. There was, however, a fumbling of keys, which clattered to the floor the second we passed through the doorway, and a front door kicked shut with a little bit too much force, rattling the frame. A small chuckle escaped my lips at this, and Mike smirked as he grabbed me, shoving me further into the apartment toward the bedroom. Mike’s hands were on my body, somehow everywhere at once, all over my arms, shoulders, and torso before they’d run down my body and over my ass, lifting me against him as our lips and tongues met in desperation.
I wanted to slow down, to indulge in all the moments leading up to the ultimate pleasure. But Mike growled whenever I pulled away from him for air and made it clear he was in charge and there would to be no slowing down. There was liberation in that, in letting go and allowing him to take me, and he was so fucking sexy, I wasn’t complaining.
Grunting as Mike pushed me against the wall, he made quick work of the buttons on my shirt, folding it back over my shoulders and discarding it to the floor, kicking it away as though it was a weapon and I was going to snatch it up and attempt to redress. I wanted his hands on me, and his palms were hot as he immediately moved down to undo my pants, grazing gently against my abdomen and smirking when I twitched and moaned. My hands shook as I tried to undress Mike with the same stealth he was me, but he was moving so fast in smooth and calculated motions, maneuvring me to his will.
Mike shrugged out of his jacket as I bent to take off my shoes, and when I looked up, he was watching me, a smirk on his face that slowly ebbed away as he started with the buttons on his shirt. Grinning, I shifted slightly until I was on my knees, running my hands up his thighs, teasing him with my fingertips through the fabric.
Now it was my turn to take my time.
Slowly, I unzipped his fly, smirking to myself as he moaned before I had even touched him. Undoing his belt, I went to free his cock, already hard, from his pants when Mike grabbed my hands.
“No,” he said. When I met his eyes again, his expression darkened.
“What’s wrong?” It was impossible not to let the feeling of dread bubble in my stomach and settle over me. Was he going to reject me again? Was he going to let his fears get the better of him and not allow me this level of closeness?
“I want to pleasure you.” I came to my feet as Mike pulled me up. “Let me touch you.”
I straightened and stood motionless, unsure of what he wanted me to do. As he continued unbuttoning his shirt, my eyes shot to his, and it was impossible to move my gaze from his and the plethora of emotions that played across his face. I had been so distracted by the prospect of getting his cock in my mouth, I hadn’t acknowledged he had begun the process of removing his shirt. The full significance of the move hit me all at once, and I hesitated for a moment, unsure what to say and settling on not saying anything. Mike held my eye contact as he voluntarily shrugged off his shirt in front of me, exposing his body to me and opening himself up in the most vulnerable way.
Now faced with him half-naked before me, I tentatively lifted my hand to touch the scars on his arms, glancing at his face for signs he would shut down again. But Mike was watching me, his gray eyes studying my movements as much as they were filled with pain. There was the smallest flinch and twitch of his shoulder when I placed my fingers against the scar on his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. Emboldened, I followed the trail of the scar up his arm. The scar tissue was smoother than the rest of his skin, the hair on his muscular arms interrupted by the movement of the scar running around his body. As I got closer to his shoulder, Mike started to tremble but never took his eyes off my face as I explored his body slowly and tentatively, relishing in him allowing me to finally touch him.
“Jacob…” Mike started but said nothing further, even as I paused my exploration to hold his eye contact for a beat. He had a heavy gauze pad taped to his chest, and I frowned, throwing him a questioning glance. Mike simply shook his head, the movement barely there and accompanied by his eyes squeezing shut for a second. I was awed at him allowing me even this close, given at our first meeting he wouldn’t even allow me to see the scars on his wrists, so I decided not to push the matter about whatever he was hiding behind the padding on his chest. Did he get a tattoo removed or something? Something he was desperate for no one to see?
