Priest (Trident Agency #2)

6. Oliver

6

OLIVER

I t had taken exactly six days of choking down whatever the hell Azriel had sent Priest home with for him, but Oliver was finally able to stand on his own. Not that he exactly minded the last week of being doted on. Priest was exactly the way Oliver had expected him to be—a complete disaster of overattentiveness that often led to him literally tripping over himself to help.

It only made Oliver’s feelings worse, and it was the one thing that kept him from hyperfixating on the fact that Poe was out there somewhere, probably injured and definitely in trouble—because it wasn’t like his best friend had gotten lost. He’d been taken, and that was haunting Oliver to the point he was driving himself insane with his inability to do anything about it.

Even now that he could walk himself to the bathroom and take a piss without Priest carrying him, he still wasn’t strong enough to leave. He would be, but the gods only knew when that would happen. His healing was a slow climb, and he was profoundly aware that he’d almost died.

Or, to hear Azriel tell it, he had basically died, and the Angel had brought him back from the edge of the veil.

Luckily, he didn’t remember any of it, so he didn’t have to deal with the trauma of knowing what was on the other side. It was like he’d taken a very long, very powerful nap, and he’d woken up in the arms of the one person he’d wanted for far too long.

Gods, he wished Poe was there to relentlessly mock him over Priest feeding him soup and combing his hair.

His chest hurt from missing and worrying endlessly about his friend.

He washed his face with trembling hands and grimaced at the state of himself. Priest had helped him get in and out of the shower, but washing was a huge chore, and he’d only managed to scrub the sweat from his hair twice in the last week. He wanted a long, hot soak in a tub, but more than that, he wanted to get away from the bed.

His legs felt barely strong enough to support his weight, but he managed to make his way down the stairs and followed his nose to the scent of toasting bread. He couldn’t get over how big Priest’s place was. It was obviously a very cushy job working for royal families and the like. Oliver wasn’t exactly jealous, but he’d grown up in a cult that found any semblance of wealth akin to the worst sin a human could commit.

Well, almost the worst.

They would have considered his biggest sin to be lusting after a Demon. It almost made him smile to think about what his parents might have said. Their idea of love was cruelty and hate, and he was more than grateful every day that he’d escaped them.

Even now, hurt and very lonely, there was nothing to miss except Poe.

“I need to tell his parents,” Oliver whispered to himself as he turned a corner and found himself in a large kitchen full of black cabinets, marble counters, and stainless steel appliances. His heart gave a little staccato beat against his ribs when he found Priest leaning over the sink, his head bowed, hand curled around a wineglass full of something very shiny and very white.

Oliver had never seen anything like it before, and it made his skin itch.

“What is that?”

Priest jolted and spun, giving Oliver an almost hysterical and very guilty laugh. “This? Oh, it’s… well. It’s a… it’s nothing.”

Oliver peered around him to find a bottle he did recognize, only because he dealt in things like that—rare books and magics. And Fae magic was the rarest. He blinked at Priest as his tired brain connected the dots.

“Tell me you’re not drinking that.”

“I’m not drinking that,” Priest said, like he was incapable of disobeying Oliver. Then, he tipped the glass back and drained it in one go.

Oliver spluttered, and surprising himself with his own speed, he was at Priest’s side and reaching for the bottle. Priest’s eyes had gone black from the magic, and they widened at him, though he seemed too stunned to do anything but watch as Oliver grabbed the bottle and heaved it into the sink. The glass shattered, but the white liquid hit the metal and sizzled, turning to smoke and drifting into the air. Oliver waved his hand, helping it to disperse so they didn’t breathe in too much.

“Shit,” Priest whispered, sounding brokenhearted. “What did you do?”

“Saved you from yourself, you moron,” Oliver snapped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous drinking that is?”

“Do you have any idea how dangerous I can be?” Priest’s eyes seemed even blacker somehow, hypnotic if Oliver wasn’t so furious at his recklessness. “Do you even know what it was?”

Oliver scoffed, then stumbled. His legs went weak, and in spite of Priest’s very real anger, he caught him and lifted him like he weighed nothing. “It’s poison,” he said, lifting his chin despite being held like a child. “It could kill you.”

Priest bared his teeth, and they were… sharper as he set him on a barstool. “It might not have been the best thing for me, but it was protecting you.”

Oliver couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Protecting me? From what?”

“From me. My hunger is…” He swallowed thickly, glancing away as the blackness seeped away from his eyes. “I had to let you heal before I could go out and feed. It was the only thing that took the edge off.”

Oliver felt his heart sink. He knew what hunger could do to an Incubus. He knew that eventually, it would drive him mad because someday, he wouldn’t be satisfied without taking a life. And Priest would never do that. It would be the end of him. He’d allow himself to starve to death.

Or he’d order the agents of Trident to kill him. Either way was too painful to think about. Oliver wanted to weep. But he also knew that would be decades from now, if not centuries.

“I have to call Azriel,” Priest said, sounding exhausted.

“You’re not bringing more of that shit into this house,” Oliver said. “Fae wine will ruin you.”

“He doesn’t have more,” Priest replied, pulling out his phone. “But now that he’s juiced back up from healing you, he can sit with you while I feed.”

Oliver opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say, but Priest kept talking, trying to reassure him, even though he was so wrong about what was upsetting him.

“Don’t worry, I won’t bring someone in the house,” Priest said, making a face. “And I’ll stay close by, but while I’m feeding, I’m unaware of what’s happening around me, and I won’t be able to sense if it if you’re in danger. With Azriel here, you won’t be defenseless.”

Something in Oliver snapped. He didn’t know how or why. He just knew that six days of having Priest beside him—close but not touching the way he wanted, loving but not loved the way he needed—it was too much. He felt a rush of possession and fury at the thought of Priest touching anyone else, even if just through their dreams.

He slapped the phone out of Priest’s hand.

The Demon stared at him, eyes wide. “Oliver… I need to feed. When this wears off?—”

“Then you’ll have me,” Oliver said.

Priest closed his eyes very slowly. “You know I can’t do that.”

Oliver scoffed, leaning against the counter because he was dizzy. It took him a minute to realize it wasn’t from his injuries. It was from his proximity to a hungry Incubus. This hungry Incubus. One that he wanted with an almost soul-crushing need. “I don’t know that, actually. Why don’t you explain it to me.”

When Priest opened his eyes, they were black. Not like his usual color—a sort of gorgeous onyx that covered the entire surface—whites, irises, and pupils. Now, the abyss consumed them. He parted his lips, and though his teeth weren’t sharp like a Vampire’s, his canines had lengthened to short points.

Oliver shuddered. Maybe Priest was trying to scare him, but it wasn’t working.

“Oliver.” His voice was a low, strange rumble that sent sparks over Oliver’s skin. “Go back upstairs and go to sleep.”

Oliver stared at him, then rolled his eyes. “No. I just woke up. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going back to bed in the middle of our conversation.”

Priest’s eyes faded back to their usual appearance, and he blinked rapidly before clearing his throat. He was softer—the sweet sort of awkward potato he’d been since Oliver got there. “Um. Please go back to sleep?”

Oliver sighed. “Cute, but no. I’m going to waste away if I sleep any longer. And since you won’t let me go look for my best friend, I say we do the second-best thing.”

Priest swallowed heavily. “Which is…”

Oliver drummed his fingers on the counter. He felt oddly brave in a way he hadn’t been for the months he’d known and pined after Priest. Maybe it was the whole near death experience. Or maybe it was the trauma of losing everything in his life. Or maybe he was just tired of waiting around.

Whatever the case, he was done letting Priest shove him off when he knew damn well the Demon not only wanted him but was holding himself back by a tinsel-weak thread.

“I’ll go back to bed… if you go with me.”

Priest choked. “I need to leave.”

He started away, but Oliver caught him by the wrist. He tugged, his strength obviously replenished from all the napping he’d been doing because Priest stumbled toward him and landed right up against Oliver’s front, bracing himself against the counter with his free hand.

A beat passed, and Oliver swore he could feel Priest’s heart beating beneath his own skin.

“I’ll hurt you.”

“Something tells me you won’t,” Oliver murmured. He reached up, boldly drawing a touch over Priest’s jawline. “You’d stop yourself before we got anywhere near that point.”

“You have no idea how dangerous this is.” Priest’s voice went rough again, his eyes darkening. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I’d die if anything happened to you. If I let anything happen to you.”

“So don’t let anything happen to me,” Oliver said. “I’m stronger than you think. And I want you too. I want you to take what you need from me. I can’t stand the thought of you suffering or feeding on someone other than me.”

Priest closed his eyes and tipped his head forward. For a moment, Oliver thought he was going to be kissed, but Priest pressed their foreheads together and breathed deep, like he was taking his scent into his body. “This temptation is going to send me straight to hell.”

“As a Demon, I figured you’d be at home there,” Oliver quipped.

Priest pulled back, eyes wide, and then he burst into low chuckles seconds before he grabbed Oliver by the waist and lifted him, settling him on the counter. His laughter died, and then he licked his lips, and not only were his little fangs back, but Priest’s tongue had thinned and lengthened, the end split and forked like a snake.

Oliver’s dick pulsed in his loose pants.

Priest sucked in another deep breath and let it out on a groan. “Gods, I want you. Your lust is so fucking sweet.”

“So have me. Be delicate, but take what you need. I know what it’ll cost, and I’m giving it to you,” Oliver said. An idea struck him. He stuck his thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas and did his best to shimmy them off while sitting on the counter and having Priest between his knees.

Taking the hint, Priest stepped back and grabbed handfuls of the fabric, his nails sharper and almost clawlike, and between one blink and the next, Oliver was naked from the waist down. For a moment, he couldn’t seem to make a sound. Tendrils of pleasure were curling over his skin as Priest groaned, and he felt like he was going to lose his mind from ecstasy before Priest even touched him.

“Please,” he whispered.

Priest looked up at him, eyes fully black now. He smiled. “Oh, sweet thing. I’m not going to make you beg. Not today.”

Oliver’s head cleared after a second, like he was waking from a dream. He curled his hand around his hard dick, then used his other one to grip Priest by the chin. The Demon seemed startled and unsure, but Oliver wasn’t toying with him. He traced the head of his cock over Priest’s lips.

“I don’t know if it’ll be enough to take the edge off, but…”

“It’ll be enough,” Priest growled. His eyes closed again, and when he ran his tongue over his lower lip, Oliver sucked in a sharp breath. It was thin. And forked. Priest met his gaze, and his tongue licked out farther, the ends curling around the head of Oliver’s dick.

He let out a sharp moan, sagging backward and being held up by Priest’s hands alone. “Yes,” he hissed.

Priest shoved his face against Oliver and breathed in a last time before his lips parted, and he took his dick in a single, perfect swallow. Oliver’s hands twisted into Priest’s hair. He felt wild with desire in ways he never had before. He’d heard a thousand rumors about what it was like to fuck an Incubus, but he felt far from weak or like he was being drained.

Instead, it felt like all the cracked pieces of him that were still healing were suddenly solid again. And then Priest slipped the thin ends of his tongue into his slit, and his balls tightened, threatening to spill into his mouth.

“Want it,” Priest said, as though he sensed Oliver holding back. “Need it. Need you. So delicious,” he said, his voice like a hiss between long pulls of his lips.

Oliver was nearly blind from how good it all felt. He let Priest’s hair go, only to grab the countertop and thrust forward. Priest moaned sharply, encouraging, and Oliver fucked his hips against Priest’s face.

His impending orgasm began to light up under his skin like fireworks, and he realized there was no stopping it. His head lolled back as his thrusts turned sloppy, his elbows weak. Priest curled that glorious tongue, wrapping it around him and tightening in pulses of eye-rolling pleasures.

Oliver let go.

He came with a sharp cry, spilling hot ropes down Priest’s throat, feeling every single swallow as the Demon drank him down. He waited for the drain, for the weakness, for the years of his life he’d sacrificed, but all he felt was strong.

His hands were steady when Priest pulled off him, and he used a firm grip to yank Priest to his feet. His eyes were hot, almost like they were blazing with fire, and he grabbed Priest by the hair once more and kissed him.

The taste was euphoric. Salty from his own release and something else—the essence of the Demon. His Demon. He felt a strange, possessive sensation unfurling in his chest, and for a moment, he wanted to burn the world down just so no one could ever get close to Priest again.

And then, with each breath, the feeling faded. Something was lodged in his chest he couldn’t explain, but the fatigue of it all hit him. All the strength in his muscles released, and he started to sag off the counter, Priest catching him and sweeping him up like he’d done when Oliver couldn’t walk.

“I told you, I shouldn’t have?—”

“Shut up,” Oliver murmured. “I got blown up a week ago. Sue me if my first orgasm since then makes me a little tired.”

Priest sighed quietly as he carried Oliver back to the bedroom. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

Oliver winced, unable to stop from being a little hurt at his quick dismissal of what they’d just shared. “Did it help?”

Priest didn’t answer until he’d laid Oliver back down. “It helped.”

He started to pull back, but Oliver caught his arm again. “I don’t think so, you obnoxious little martyr. You don’t get to suck my brain out through my dick and then leave.”

Priest choked on his tongue—which looked back to normal. A shame. But he put one knee on the bed. “I really should let you rest.”

“You should lie here with me for a while,” Oliver countered.

Priest hesitated before finally doing as Oliver asked, and for a moment, it felt like his heart was singing. Literally. Priest hummed a tuneless sound as he curled up around Oliver, then laid his head next to his on the pillow. “I can’t risk you.”

“I don’t think you have to,” Oliver told him. He assessed himself, and he was tired, but it was no more tired than he had been since he was hurt. Maybe Priest was all wrong about his effect on humans. Or maybe it was something else. Either way, he felt good. He traced a touch over Priest’s jaw. “I feel… good.”

Priest stared at him, then cupped his cheek, running his thumb beside his eye. “You’re not lying, are you?”

Oliver shook his head. “I’m still a little tender from everything, but you made me feel…” He had no real words for it.

Priest carefully stroked a hand through his hair, gently petting him and lulling him to sleep. Just as he started to drop off, he swore he heard Priest mutter, “What are you? Because after that… there’s no way you’re fully human.”