Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

The Shadows Grow Longer

Air kissed him with slow reverence, fingers tangled in his hair, ankles locked at the base of Quinn’s spine. Quinn pressed his mate against the wall, gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise as he moved inside him. 

They kept their rhythm slow, the roll of their hips deliberate as Quinn sent tingles of quintessence to the place inside Air that made him melt. Aching as he dragged himself over it, fully utilising the ridges of his piercings to drive them both to the edge.  

Their bond shimmered, blue and purple sparks of magic skimming over their skin, crackling with raw energy and with love.  

The intensity stole his breath, and Air mewled as sensation became too much. He let go, and Quinn drank it down, the rhythmic spasms dragging the orgasm out of him on a growl, their bond flaring and pulsing in time with their release. 

His mate twitched around him, delicious aftershocks running through his body as Quinn rocked his hips, their tongues still moving in a delicious, languid rhythm. The taste of their blood and their slowing breaths mingled, tangling them deeper in the magic of their bond. 

For a moment, everything was perfect. Everything was right. 

Quinn reluctantly pulled away first, earning him a low groan. He dropped his face to Air’s shoulder and kissed the ridge of his collarbone, huffing a laugh. The scent of his mate’s seed, his clean sweat and the underlying notes of wild summer storms flooded his senses. It grounded him in the best possible way. 

But beneath it all, Quinn felt the illusion of normalcy begin to fray at the edges. 

“This is why we should always wear clothes in the kitchen,” Quinn said against his skin, nipping at him gently, trying to eke out the moment for a little while longer. 

Air’s fingers drifted through his hair, claws raking lightly across his scalp. He chuckled, the sound slow, sated and smug. 

“Clothes would make no difference, Quinn. I’d jump you any chance I got, regardless.” Air sighed, carefully separating them and planting his bare feet on the cool slate floor. The loss of his warmth was immediate, making Quinn feel hollow. “Look what a mess we made,” he murmured, toeing a fallen bottle. It rolled in a circle and hit the edge of Quinn’s foot. 

Quinn went to take a step back, but Air’s hand on his arm stopped him. 

“What?”  

“There’s stuff all over the floor. Let me just pick it up. I don’t want you to trip.” 

And...the illusion unravelled. 

With his eyes closed, it had been easy to believe he was whole again. That he wasn’t almost blind.  

Instinct had carried him. Guided him as he and Air collided, desperate and aching and wild. 

In that cocoon of magic and sensation, his eyes hadn’t mattered. Only the two of them had. 

But now, as Air crouched to clean up the aftermath, careful and considerate in all the ways Quinn hated needing? The warmth inside him began to dim. 

Quinn’s tentative mood soured. 

“Hey!” 

Air’s voice snapped him out of it and he took Quinn’s hand. 

“Hmm?” Quinn hummed. 

“Where did you go?”  

Quinn frowned, concentrating on the pale shape of against the dark kitchen behind him. The best his eyes would allow him right then. He was making progress, but it wasn’t quick enough for his liking.